"But let me tell you my story.

Last week the father of the children started for Washington; the cars ran off the track, and were precipitated down a high embankment, and he and some others were killed.

Since his death it has been discovered that all his property was heavily mortgaged to old MacTurk, the worst man in the whole of Savannah; and he has taken possession of the place, and thrown her and the children into the slave-pen, from which they will be sold to the highest bidder at a sheriff's sale.

Who can say that a similar fate may never be mine?
These things press upon my spirit, and make me so gloomy and melancholy at times, that I wish it were possible to shun even myself.
Lately, more than ever, have I felt disposed to beg you to break up here, and move off to some foreign country where there is no such thing as slavery.

I have often thought how delightful it would be for us all to be living in that beautiful Italy you have so often described to me--or in France either.