"Oh, Ann, you are only frightened," and she led me into the yard, where we found about a dozen persons, mostly colored.
"Where is the woman that's been kilt?" inquired Biddy, of a mulatto girl.
"She ain't quite dead. Pity she isn't out of her misery, poor soul," said the mulatto girl.
"But where is she?" demanded Biddy.
"Oh, in thar, the first room in the basement," and, half-led by Biddy, I passed in through a mean, damp, musty basement. The noxious atmosphere almost stifled us. Turning to the left as directed, we entered a low, comfortless room, with brick walls and floor. Upon a pile of straw, in this wretched place, lay a bleeding, torn, mangled body, with scarcely life in it. Two colored women were bathing the wounds and wrapping greased cloths round the body. I listened to her pitiful groans, until I thought my forbearance would fail me.
"Poor soul!" said one of the colored women, "she has had a mighty bad convulsion. I wish she could die and be sot free from misery."
"Whar is de white folks?" asked another.
"Oh, dey is skeered, an' done run off an' hid up stairs."
"Who done it?"
"Why, Miss Barkoff; she put Aunt Kaisy to clean de harth, an' you see, de poor ole critter had a broken arm. De white folks broke it once when dey was beatin' of her, and so she couldn't work fast. Well den, too, she'd been right sick for long time. You see she was right sickly like, an' when Miss Barkoff come back—she'd only bin gone a little while—an' see'd dat de harth wasn't done, she fell to beatin' of de poor ole sick critter, an' den bekase she cried an' hollered, she tuck her into de coal-house, gagged her mouth, tied her hands an' feet, an' fell to beatin' of her, an' she beat her till she got tired, den ole Barkoff beat her till he got satisfied. Den some colored person seed him, an' tole him dat he better stop, for Aunt Kaisy was most gone."