she was my sister; and now I see she looked so like my mother.' And
Isabella wept, and not alone; Sophia wept, and the strong man,
Michael, mingled his tears with theirs. 'Oh Lord,' inquired Isabella,
'what is this slavery, that it can do such dreadful things? what evil
can it not do?' Well may she ask, for surely the evils it can and does
do, daily and hourly, can never be summed up, till we can see them as
they are recorded by him who writes no errors, and reckons without
mistake. This account, which now varies so widely in the estimate of
different minds, will be viewed alike by all.

Think you, dear reader, when that day comes, the most 'rapid
abolitionist' will say-'Behold, I saw all this while on the earth?'
Will he not rather say, 'Oh, who has conceived the breadth and depth of
this moral malaria, this putrescent plague-spot?' Perhaps the pioneers
in the slave's cause will be as much surprised as any to find that with
all their looking, there remained so much unseen.



GLEANINGS.


There are some hard things that crossed Isabella's life while in
slavery, that she has no desire to publish, for various reasons.
First, because the parties from whose hands she suffered them have
rendered up their account to a higher tribunal, and their innocent
friends alone are living, to have their feelings injured by the
recital; secondly, because they are not all for the public ear, from
their very nature; thirdly, and not least, because, she says, were she
to tell all that happened to her as a slave-all that she knows is