The following letter, says the Selma Reporter, was received a short time since, by Stephen, a colored preacher, belonging to Dr. P.C. Winn, well known in this section of the State. Stephen says every word of it may be believed--it may not be improper to read it to your servants:

NASHVILLE, Tenn., Jan. 15, 1864

Uncle Stephen: I know you will be surprised to get a letter from me here, but I have a chance of sending it by one of Mr. Crutchfield's women, who says she knows you and has heard you preach often, and as I cannot write myself, a free woman of this place is kind enough to write this letter for me. I was very foolish to leave a good home and kind friends, to come with the cruel, lying, swindling Yankees--they will promise anything to get you off with them, but they never fulfill any of their promises. They told me if I would go with them I should be free and rich and have a white wife. They said that they were dividing all the land of the Rebels among the negroes as fast as they got possession of it. I believed the story and went with them, but, like the rich man, whose fate is recorded in Secred History, "in hell I lifted up my eyes, being in torment," and, like him, also, I wish to testify unto my brethren "lest they also come into this place of torment." Instead of being free, I never was so much a slave. As soon as the Federals got me off with them, I was conscripted and assigned to duty with a regiment of sappers and miners. I work all day in muddy ditches with a guard over me, who stands at my back with a loaded musket and fixed bayonet, ready to thrust me through, and at night a ball and chain is fastened to my arms and legs, and I am driven like an ox to a muddy stall, called a barracks, where I spend the night, without fire and almost without bedding. Every colored man that comes to the Yankees is put in the army, and is required to do them constant drudgery in camp, and in time of battle we are all put in the front as a breastwork for the protection of the whites. I had rather be a Southern slave, and belong to the meanest master in the South, than to be what they call a colored free man at the North. I had a good home, and a kind mistress, and plenty to eat and wear, but here everybody is my master, and I have to clothe and feed myself; and every negro in this country is treated more like a vile dumb brute or a poisonous reptile than a human being. If this is freedom, give me slavery forever. If I ever get a chance I am coming home, and every negro here would do the same thing if he could. Warn our friends, lest they also come into this place of torment, and tell them they ought to feel happy in having kind Masters and Mistresses. I left some clothes in Marion--take care of them for me. Pray for me, uncle Stephen, and look for me, for I am coming if ever I get this chain off my neck. Give my love to all my friends, and tell them not to come here.