“A few days after Mr. Martin’s funeral there was a meeting of his heirs, and they determined to sell the slaves.  Accordingly the next morning they were marched down to the wharf, where they found a boat at anchor, and all went on board.  We will pass over the wearisome trip of several days, and imagine them to be at the end of their journey at Memphis.  Here they were taken off the boat, and placed in jail until auction day.  In a few days they were again taken out and tied in couples, and taken to the auction.  Judy was sitting very disconsolate, thinking of her past misfortunes and coming sorrows.  The hope of seeing any of her old friends, or of being reunited with her children, she had almost given up.  The auctioneer called to her, and she stepped on the block.  Her strong and well-proportioned figure, and comely, though dejected and sad appearance, instantly raised a dozen bids.  First here, now there, might be heard the voice of the competitors; the noise of the hammer ceased, and Judy was the property of Mr. Carter.  After his purchase Mr. Carter was taking Judy to the boat, when she felt some one catching hold of her arm; she turned around and immediately recognized the person as a gentleman whom she had known while living with Mrs. Madison’s daughter.  He said to her: 

“‘Why, Judy, where are you going?’

“She answered in a kind of wicked despair: 

“‘To hell, I believe.’

“This gentleman inquired about her condition, and finally rescued her, and sent her to Vincennes, where she labored for many years and found some good friends, but she never felt safe after she had been stolen away from there.  She made inquiries about her children, but never learned anything of them.  Not having anything to attach her to Vincennes, she left and came to Terra Haute, where she resided a little while, and then came further into the interior of the state.

“Her children are scattered, and gone she knows not where; and after a long life of toil and suffering she is here, old, infirm, and a beggar.  Every wrinkle on her brow could tell a tale of suffering; her youth is gone; her energies are all spent, and her long life of toil has been for naught.”

Mrs. Ford ceased, her tears were falling fast, and the children were sobbing around her.  The fire, from neglect, had gone out, and there were only a few smoking embers left in the fire-place, reminding them of the time that had been spent in hearing “AUNT JUDY’S STORY.”

[Illustration:  AUNT JUDY.]

* * * * *

[Illustration:  “ME NEBER GIB IT UP!”]

“ME NEBER GIB IT UP!”

“Please, massa, teach me to read!” said an aged negro one day to a missionary in the West Indies.

The missionary said he would do so, and the negro became his scholar.  But. the poor old man, trained in ignorance through threescore years, found it difficult to learn.  He tried hard, but made little progress.  One day the missionary said: