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In the month of October, 1863, Clotelle resolved to visit Andersonville, Ga., for the purpose of alleviating the hardships of our sick and imprisoned soldiers, and at once put her resolution into effect by going immediately to that place. After crossing the lines, she passed as a rebel lady, to enable her the more successfully to carry out her object.

Taylor began questioning Clotelle concerning her early childhood, and became more than ever satisfied that the slave-girl was in some way connected with the Mortons. Every hour brought fresh news of the ravages of the fever, and the Taylors commenced preparing to leave town. As Mr.

Yes, she is dead! but I did not kill her poor girl Look! that is she! No, it cannot be! she cannot come here! it cannot be my poor Clotelle." At the sound of her own name, coming from the maniac's lips, Clotelle gasped for breath, and her husband saw that she had grown deadly pale. It seemed evident to him that the man was either guilty of some terrible act, or imagined himself to be.

It was a bright day in the latter part of October that Jerome and Clotelle set out for the church, where the marriage ceremony was to be performed. The clear, bracing air added buoyancy to every movement, and the sun poured its brilliant rays through the deeply-stained windows, as the happy couple entered the sanctuary, followed by old Mr.

The soft, silver-gray tints on the leaves of the trees, with their snow-spotted trunks, and a biting air, warned the new-born freeman that he was in another climate. Jerome sought work, and soon found it; and arranged with his employer that the latter should go to Natchez in search of Clotelle.

The sounds, at first faint, grew louder and louder, plainly indicating that some person was suffering extreme pain. "I did not like this hotel, much, when we came in," said Jerome, relighting the lamp, which had been accidentally extinguished. "Nor I," returned Clotelle. The shrieks increased, and an occasional "she's dead!" "I killed her!"

Her dark, rich hair had partly come down, and hung still more loosely over her shoulders than when she first appeared; and her eyes, now full of animation and vivacity, and her sweet, harmonious, and well-modulated voice, together with her modesty, self-possession, and engaging manners, made Clotelle appear lovely beyond description.

"My mistress told me to give her and Master Henry her compliments, and ask them to come over and spend the evening." "Who is your mistress?" he eagerly inquired. "Mrs. Miller, sir," responded the girl. "And what's your name?" asked Henry, with a trembling voice. "Clotelle, sir," was the reply.

Jane, the oldest of the girls, as we have before mentioned, was very handsome, bearing a close resemblance to her cousin Clotelle. Alreka, though not as handsome as her sister, was nevertheless a beautiful girl, and both had all the accomplishments that wealth and station could procure.

"But," answered Georgiana, "Clotelle has a superior mind, and God intended her to hold a higher position in life than that of a servant." "Yes, my dear, and it was your letting her know that she was intended for a better station in society that is spoiling her. Always keep a negro in ignorance of what you conceive to be his abilities," returned the parson.