[Transcriber's note: The spelling irregularities of the original have beenretained in this etext. ]

Incidents

in the

Life of a Slave Girl. 

Written by Herself. 

Linda Brent

"Northerners know nothing at all about Slavery. They think it is perpetualbondage only. They have no conception of the depth of _degradation_involved in that word, SLAVERY; if they had, they would never cease theirefforts until so horrible a system was overthrown. "

A Woman Of North Carolina. 

"Rise up, ye women that are at ease! Hear my voice, ye careless daughters!Give ear unto my speech. "

Isaiah xxxii. 9. 

Edited By L. Maria Child. 

Boston: Published For The Author. 

1861. 

Preface By The Author

Reader be assured this narrative is no fiction. I am aware that some of myadventures may seem incredible; but they are, nevertheless, strictly true. I have not exaggerated the wrongs inflicted by Slavery; on the contrary, mydescriptions fall far short of the facts. I have concealed the names ofplaces, and given persons fictitious names. I had no motive for secrecy onmy own account, but I deemed it kind and considerate towards others topursue this course. 

I wish I were more competent to the task I have undertaken. But I trust myreaders will excuse deficiencies in consideration of circumstances. I wasborn and reared in Slavery; and I remained in a Slave State twenty-sevenyears. Since I have been at the North, it has been necessary for me to workdiligently for my own support, and the education of my children. This hasnot left me much leisure to make up for the loss of early opportunities toimprove myself; and it has compelled me to write these pages at irregularintervals, whenever I could snatch an hour from household duties. 

When I first arrived in Philadelphia, Bishop Paine advised me to publish asketch of my life, but I told him I was altogether incompetent to such anundertaking. Though I have improved my mind somewhat since that time, Istill remain of the same opinion; but I trust my motives will excuse whatmight otherwise seem presumptuous. I have not written my experiences inorder to attract attention to myself; on the contrary, it would have beenmore pleasant to me to have been silent about my own history. Neither do Icare to excite sympathy for my own sufferings. But I do earnestly desire toarouse the women of the North to a realizing sense of the condition of twomillions of women at the South, still in bondage, suffering what Isuffered, and most of them far worse. I want to add my testimony to that ofabler pens to convince the people of the Free States what Slavery reallyis. Only by experience can any one realize how deep, and dark, and foul isthat pit of abominations. May the blessing of God rest on this imperfecteffort in behalf of my persecuted people!

--_Linda Brent_

Introduction By The Editor

The author of the following autobiography is personally known to me, andher conversation and manners inspire me with confidence. During the lastseventeen years, she has lived the greater part of the time with adistinguished family in New York, and has so deported herself as to behighly esteemed by them. This fact is sufficient, without furthercredentials of her character. I believe those who know her will not bedisposed to doubt her veracity, though some incidents in her story are moreromantic than fiction. 

At her request, I have revised her manuscript; but such changes as I havemade have been mainly for purposes of condensation and orderly arrangement. I have not added any thing to the incidents, or changed the import of hervery pertinent remarks. With trifling exceptions, both the ideas and thelanguage are her own. I pruned excrescences a little, but otherwise I hadno reason for changing her lively and dramatic way of telling her ownstory. The names of both persons and places are known to me; but for goodreasons I suppress them. 

It will naturally excite surprise that a woman reared in Slavery should beable to write so well. But circumstances will explain this. In the firstplace, nature endowed her with quick perceptions. Secondly, the mistress, with whom she lived till she was twelve years old, was a kind, consideratefriend, who taught her to read and spell. Thirdly, she was placed infavorable circumstances after she came to the North; having frequentintercourse with intelligent persons, who felt a friendly interest in herwelfare, and were disposed to give her opportunities for self-improvement. 

I am well aware that many will accuse me of indecorum for presenting thesepages to the public; for the experiences of this intelligent andmuch-injured woman belong to a class which some call delicate subjects, andothers indelicate. This peculiar phase of Slavery has generally been keptveiled; but the public ought to be made acquainted with its monstrousfeatures, and I willingly take the responsibility of presenting them withthe veil withdrawn. I do this for the sake of my sisters in bondage, whoare suffering wrongs so foul, that our ears are too delicate to listen tothem. I do it with the hope of arousing conscientious and reflecting womenat the North to a sense of their duty in the exertion of moral influence onthe question of Slavery, on all possible occasions. I do it with the hopethat every man who reads this narrative will swear solemnly before Godthat, so far as he has power to prevent it, no fugitive from Slavery shallever be sent back to suffer in that loathsome den of corruption andcruelty. 

--_L. Maria Child_

Contents

Childhood

The New Master And Mistress

The Slaves' New Year's Day

The Slave Who Dared To Feel Like A Man

The Trials Of Girlhood

The Jealous Mistress

The Lover

What Slaves Are Taught To Think Of The North

Sketches Of Neighboring Slaveholders

A Perilous Passage In The Slave Girl's Life

The New Tie To Life

Fear Of Insurrection

The Church And Slavery

Another Link To Life

Continued Persecutions

Scenes At The Plantation

The Flight

Months Of Peril

The Children Sold

New Perils

The Loophole Of Retreat

Christmas Festivities

Still In Prison

The Candidate For Congress

Competition In Cunning

Important Era In My Brother's Life

New Destination For The Children

Aunt Nancy

Preparations For Escape

Northward Bound

Incidents In Philadelphia

The Meeting Of Mother And Daughter

A Home Found

The Old Enemy Again

Prejudice Against Color

The Hairbreadth Escape

A Visit To England

Renewed Invitations To Go South

The Confession

The Fugitive Slave Law

Free At Last

Appendix

Selected Bibliography

Incidents

in the

Life of A Slave Girl, Seven Years Concealed. 

 * * * * *

I. Childhood

I was born a slave; but I never knew it till six years of happy childhoodhad passed away. My father was a carpenter, and considered so intelligentand skilful in his trade, that, when buildings out of the common line wereto be erected, he was sent for from long distances, to be head workman. Oncondition of paying his mistress two hundred dollars a year, and supportinghimself, he was allowed to work at his trade, and manage his own affairs. His strongest wish was to purchase his children; but, though he severaltimes offered his hard earnings for that purpose, he never succeeded. Incomplexion my parents were a light shade of brownish yellow, and weretermed mulattoes. They lived together in a comfortable home; and, though wewere all slaves, I was so fondly shielded that I never dreamed I was apiece of merchandise, trusted to them for safe keeping, and liable to bedemanded of them at any moment. I had one brother, William, who was twoyears younger than myself--a bright, affectionate child. I had also a greattreasure in my maternal grandmother, who was a remarkable woman in manyrespects. She was the daughter of a planter in South Carolina, who, at hisdeath, left her mother and his three children free, with money to go to St. Augustine, where they had relatives. It was during the Revolutionary War;and they were captured on their passage, carried back, and sold todifferent purchasers. Such was the story my grandmother used to tell me;but I do not remember all the particulars. She was a little girl when shewas captured and sold to the keeper of a large hotel. I have often heardher tell how hard she fared during childhood. But as she grew older sheevinced so much intelligence, and was so faithful, that her master andmistress could not help seeing it was for their interest to take care ofsuch a valuable piece of property. She became an indispensable personage inthe household, officiating in all capacities, from cook and wet nurse toseamstress. She was much praised for her cooking; and her nice crackersbecame so famous in the neighborhood that many people were desirous ofobtaining them. In consequence of numerous requests of this kind, she askedpermission of her mistress to bake crackers at night, after all thehousehold work was done; and she obtained leave to do it, provided shewould clothe herself and her children from the profits. Upon these terms, after working hard all day for her mistress, she began her midnightbakings, assisted by her two oldest children. The business provedprofitable; and each year she laid by a little, which was saved for a fundto purchase her children. Her master died, and the property was dividedamong his heirs. The widow had her dower in the hotel which she continuedto keep open. My grandmother remained in her service as a slave; but herchildren were divided among her master's children. As she had five, Benjamin, the youngest one, was sold, in order that each heir might have anequal portion of dollars and cents. There was so little difference in ourages that he seemed more like my brother than my uncle. He was a bright, handsome lad, nearly white; for he inherited the complexion my grandmotherhad derived from Anglo-Saxon ancestors. Though only ten years old, sevenhundred and twenty dollars were paid for him. His sale was a terrible blowto my grandmother, but she was naturally hopeful, and she went to work withrenewed energy, trusting in time to be able to purchase some of herchildren. She had laid up three hundred dollars, which her mistress one daybegged as a loan, promising to pay her soon. The reader probably knows thatno promise or writing given to a slave is legally binding; for, accordingto Southern laws, a slave, _being_ property, can _hold_ no property. Whenmy grandmother lent her hard earnings to her mistress, she trusted solelyto her honor. The honor of a slaveholder to a slave!

To this good grandmother I was indebted for many comforts. My brotherWillie and I often received portions of the crackers, cakes, and preserves, she made to sell; and after we ceased to be children we were indebted toher for many more important services. 

Such were the unusually fortunate circumstances of my early childhood. WhenI was six years old, my mother died; and then, for the first time, Ilearned, by the talk around me, that I was a slave. My mother's mistresswas the daughter of my grandmother's mistress. She was the foster sister ofmy mother; they were both nourished at my grandmother's breast. In fact, mymother had been weaned at three months old, that the babe of the mistressmight obtain sufficient food. They played together as children; and, whenthey became women, my mother was a most faithful servant to her whiterfoster sister. On her death-bed her mistress promised that her childrenshould never suffer for any thing; and during her lifetime she kept herword. They all spoke kindly of my dead mother, who had been a slave merelyin name, but in nature was noble and womanly. I grieved for her, and myyoung mind was troubled with the thought who would now take care of me andmy little brother. I was told that my home was now to be with her mistress;and I found it a happy one. No toilsome or disagreeable duties were imposedon me. My mistress was so kind to me that I was always glad to do herbidding, and proud to labor for her as much as my young years would permit. I would sit by her side for hours, sewing diligently, with a heart as freefrom care as that of any free-born white child. When she thought I wastired, she would send me out to run and jump; and away I bounded, to gatherberries or flowers to decorate her room. Those were happy days--too happyto last. The slave child had no thought for the morrow; but there came thatblight, which too surely waits on every human being born to be a chattel. 

When I was nearly twelve years old, my kind mistress sickened and died. AsI saw the cheek grow paler, and the eye more glassy, how earnestly I prayedin my heart that she might live! I loved her; for she had been almost likea mother to me. My prayers were not answered. She died, and they buried herin the little churchyard, where, day after day, my tears fell upon hergrave. 

I was sent to spend a week with my grandmother. I was now old enough tobegin to think of the future; and again and again I asked myself what theywould do with me. I felt sure I should never find another mistress so kindas the one who was gone. She had promised my dying mother that her childrenshould never suffer for any thing; and when I remembered that, and recalledher many proofs of attachment to me, I could not help having some hopesthat she had left me free. My friends were almost certain it would be so. They thought she would be sure to do it, on account of my mother's love andfaithful service. But, alas! we all know that the memory of a faithfulslave does not avail much to save her children from the auction block. 

After a brief period of suspense, the will of my mistress was read, and welearned that she had bequeathed me to her sister's daughter, a child offive years old. So vanished our hopes. My mistress had taught me theprecepts of God's Word: "Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself. ""Whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, do ye even so unto them. "But I was her slave, and I suppose she did not recognize me as herneighbor. I would give much to blot out from my memory that one greatwrong. As a child, I loved my mistress; and, looking back on the happy daysI spent with her, I try to think with less bitterness of this act ofinjustice. While I was with her, she taught me to read and spell; and forthis privilege, which so rarely falls to the lot of a slave, I bless hermemory. 

She possessed but few slaves; and at her death those were all distributedamong her relatives. Five of them were my grandmother's children, and hadshared the same milk that nourished her mother's children. Notwithstandingmy grandmother's long and faithful service to her owners, not one of herchildren escaped the auction block. These God-breathing machines are nomore, in the sight of their masters, than the cotton they plant, or thehorses they tend. 

II. The New Master And Mistress. 

Dr. Flint, a physician in the neighborhood, had married the sister of mymistress, and I was now the property of their little daughter. It was notwithout murmuring that I prepared for my new home; and what added to myunhappiness, was the fact that my brother William was purchased by the samefamily. My father, by his nature, as well as by the habit of transactingbusiness as a skillful mechanic, had more of the feelings of a freeman thanis common among slaves. My brother was a spirited boy; and being brought upunder such influences, he daily detested the name of master and mistress. One day, when his father and his mistress both happened to call him at thesame time, he hesitated between the two; being perplexed to know which hadthe strongest claim upon his obedience. He finally concluded to go to hismistress. When my father reproved him for it, he said, "You both called me, and I didn't know which I ought to go to first. "

"You are _my_ child, " replied our father, "and when I call you, you shouldcome immediately, if you have to pass through fire and water. "

Poor Willie! He was now to learn his first lesson of obedience to a master. Grandmother tried to cheer us with hopeful words, and they found an echo inthe credulous hearts of youth. 

When we entered our new home we encountered cold looks, cold words, andcold treatment. We were glad when the night came. On my narrow bed I moanedand wept, I felt so desolate and alone. 

I had been there nearly a year, when a dear little friend of mine wasburied. I heard her mother sob, as the clods fell on the coffin of her onlychild, and I turned away from the grave, feeling thankful that I still hadsomething left to love. I met my grandmother, who said, "Come with me, Linda;" and from her tone I knew that something sad had happened. She ledme apart from the people, and then said, "My child, your father is dead. "Dead! How could I believe it? He had died so suddenly I had not even heardthat he was sick. I went home with my grandmother. My heart rebelledagainst God, who had taken from me mother, father, mistress, and friend. The good grandmother tried to comfort me. "Who knows the ways of God?" saidshe. "Perhaps they have been kindly taken from the evil days to come. "Years afterwards I often thought of this. She promised to be a mother toher grandchildren, so far as she might be permitted to do so; andstrengthened by her love, I returned to my master's. I thought I should beallowed to go to my father's house the next morning; but I was ordered togo for flowers, that my mistress's house might be decorated for an eveningparty. I spent the day gathering flowers and weaving them into festoons, while the dead body of my father was lying within a mile of me. What caredmy owners for that? he was merely a piece of property. Moreover, theythought he had spoiled his children, by teaching them to feel that theywere human beings. This was blasphemous doctrine for a slave to teach;presumptuous in him, and dangerous to the masters. 

The next day I followed his remains to a humble grave beside that of mydear mother. There were those who knew my father's worth, and respected hismemory. 

My home now seemed more dreary than ever. The laugh of the littleslave-children sounded harsh and cruel. It was selfish to feel so about thejoy of others. My brother moved about with a very grave face. I tried tocomfort him, by saying, "Take courage, Willie; brighter days will come byand by. "

"You don't know any thing about it, Linda, " he replied. "We shall have tostay here all our days; we shall never be free. "

I argued that we were growing older and stronger, and that perhaps wemight, before long, be allowed to hire our own time, and then we could earnmoney to buy our freedom. William declared this was much easier to say thanto do; moreover, he did not intend to _buy_ his freedom. We held dailycontroversies upon this subject. 

Little attention was paid to the slaves' meals in Dr. Flint's house. Ifthey could catch a bit of food while it was going, well and good. I gavemyself no trouble on that score, for on my various errands I passed mygrandmother's house, where there was always something to spare for me. Iwas frequently threatened with punishment if I stopped there; and mygrandmother, to avoid detaining me, often stood at the gate with somethingfor my breakfast or dinner. I was indebted to _her_ for all my comforts, spiritual or temporal. It was _her_ labor that supplied my scanty wardrobe. I have a vivid recollection of the linsey-woolsey dress given me everywinter by Mrs. Flint. How I hated it! It was one of the badges of slavery. 

While my grandmother was thus helping to support me from her hard earnings, the three hundred dollars she had lent her mistress were never repaid. Whenher mistress died, her son-in-law, Dr. Flint, was appointed executor. Whengrandmother applied to him for payment, he said the estate was insolvent, and the law prohibited payment. It did not, however, prohibit him fromretaining the silver candelabra, which had been purchased with that money. I presume they will be handed down in the family, from generation togeneration. 

My grandmother's mistress had always promised her that, at her death, sheshould be free; and it was said that in her will she made good the promise. But when the estate was settled, Dr. Flint told the faithful old servantthat, under existing circumstances, it was necessary she should be sold. 

On the appointed day, the customary advertisement was posted up, proclaiming that there would be a "public sale of negroes, horses, &c. " Dr. Flint called to tell my grandmother that he was unwilling to wound herfeelings by putting her up at auction, and that he would prefer to disposeof her at private sale. My grandmother saw through his hypocrisy; sheunderstood very well that he was ashamed of the job. She was a veryspirited woman, and if he was base enough to sell her, when her mistressintended she should be free, she was determined the public should know it. She had for a long time supplied many families with crackers and preserves;consequently, "Aunt Marthy, " as she was called, was generally known, andevery body who knew her respected her intelligence and good character. Herlong and faithful service in the family was also well known, and theintention of her mistress to leave her free. When the day of sale came, shetook her place among the chattels, and at the first call she sprang uponthe auction-block. Many voices called out, "Shame! Shame! Who is going tosell _you_, aunt Marthy? Don't stand there! That is no place for _you_. "Without saying a word, she quietly awaited her fate. No one bid for her. Atlast, a feeble voice said, "Fifty dollars. " It came from a maiden lady, seventy years old, the sister of my grandmother's deceased mistress. Shehad lived forty years under the same roof with my grandmother; she knew howfaithfully she had served her owners, and how cruelly she had beendefrauded of her rights; and she resolved to protect her. The auctioneerwaited for a higher bid; but her wishes were respected; no one bid aboveher. She could neither read nor write; and when the bill of sale was madeout, she signed it with a cross. But what consequence was that, when shehad a big heart overflowing with human kindness? She gave the old servanther freedom. 

At that time, my grandmother was just fifty years old. Laborious years hadpassed since then; and now my brother and I were slaves to the man who haddefrauded her of her money, and tried to defraud her of her freedom. One ofmy mother's sisters, called Aunt Nancy, was also a slave in his family. Shewas a kind, good aunt to me; and supplied the place of both housekeeper andwaiting maid to her mistress. She was, in fact, at the beginning and end ofevery thing. 

Mrs. Flint, like many southern women, was totally deficient in energy. Shehad not strength to superintend her household affairs; but her nerves wereso strong, that she could sit in her easy chair and see a woman whipped, till the blood trickled from every stroke of the lash. She was a member ofthe church; but partaking of the Lord's supper did not seem to put her in aChristian frame of mind. If dinner was not served at the exact time on thatparticular Sunday, she would station herself in the kitchen, and wait tillit was dished, and then spit in all the kettles and pans that had been usedfor cooking. She did this to prevent the cook and her children from ekingout their meagre fare with the remains of the gravy and other scrapings. The slaves could get nothing to eat except what she chose to give them. Provisions were weighed out by the pound and ounce, three times a day. Ican assure you she gave them no chance to eat wheat bread from her flourbarrel. She knew how many biscuits a quart of flour would make, and exactlywhat size they ought to be. 

Dr. Flint was an epicure. The cook never sent a dinner to his table withoutfear and trembling; for if there happened to be a dish not to his liking, he would either order her to be whipped, or compel her to eat everymouthful of it in his presence. The poor, hungry creature might not haveobjected to eating it; but she did not object to having her master cram itdown her throat till she choked. 

They had a pet dog, that was a nuisance in the house. The cook was orderedto make some Indian mush for him. He refused to eat, and when his head washeld over it, the froth flowed from his mouth into the basin. He died a fewminutes after. When Dr. Flint came in, he said the mush had not been wellcooked, and that was the reason the animal would not eat it. He sent forthe cook, and compelled her to eat it. He thought that the woman's stomachwas stronger than the dog's; but her sufferings afterwards proved that hewas mistaken. This poor woman endured many cruelties from her master andmistress; sometimes she was locked up, away from her nursing baby, for awhole day and night. 

When I had been in the family a few weeks, one of the plantation slaves wasbrought to town, by order of his master. It was near night when he arrived, and Dr. Flint ordered him to be taken to the work house, and tied up to thejoist, so that his feet would just escape the ground. In that situation hewas to wait till the doctor had taken his tea. I shall never forgetthat night. Never before, in my life, had I heard hundreds of blows fall;in succession, on a human being. His piteous groans, and his "O, praydon't, massa, " rang in my ear for months afterwards. There were manyconjectures as to the cause of this terrible punishment. Some said masteraccused him of stealing corn; others said the slave had quarrelled with hiswife, in presence of the overseer, and had accused his master of being thefather of her child. They were both black, and the child was very fair. 

I went into the work house next morning, and saw the cowhide still wet withblood, and the boards all covered with gore. The poor man lived, andcontinued to quarrel with his wife. A few months afterwards Dr. Flinthanded them both over to a slave-trader. The guilty man put their valueinto his pocket, and had the satisfaction of knowing that they were out ofsight and hearing. When the mother was delivered into the trader's hands, she said. "You _promised_ to treat me well. " To which he replied, "You havelet your tongue run too far; damn you!" She had forgotten that it was acrime for a slave to tell who was the father of her child. 

From others than the master persecution also comes in such cases. I oncesaw a young slave girl dying soon after the birth of a child nearly white. In her agony she cried out, "O Lord, come and take me!" Her mistress stoodby, and mocked at her like an incarnate fiend. "You suffer, do you?" sheexclaimed. "I am glad of it. You deserve it all, and more too. "

The girl's mother said, "The baby is dead, thank God; and I hope my poorchild will soon be in heaven, too. "

"Heaven!" retorted the mistress. "There is no such place for the like ofher and her bastard. "

The poor mother turned away, sobbing. Her dying daughter called her, feebly, and as she bent over her, I heard her say, "Don't grieve so, mother; God knows all about it; and HE will have mercy upon me. "

Her sufferings, afterwards, became so intense, that her mistress feltunable to stay; but when she left the room, the scornful smile was still onher lips. Seven children called her mother. The poor black woman had butthe one child, whose eyes she saw closing in death, while she thanked Godfor taking her away from the greater bitterness of life. 

III. The Slaves' New Year's Day. 

Dr. Flint owned a fine residence in town, several farms, and about fiftyslaves, besides hiring a number by the year. 

Hiring-day at the south takes place on the 1st of January. On the 2d, theslaves are expected to go to their new masters. On a farm, they work untilthe corn and cotton are laid. They then have two holidays. Some mastersgive them a good dinner under the trees. This over, they work untilChristmas eve. If no heavy charges are meantime brought against them, theyare given four or five holidays, whichever the master or overseer may thinkproper. Then comes New Year's eve; and they gather together their littlealls, or more properly speaking, their little nothings, and wait anxiouslyfor the dawning of day. At the appointed hour the grounds are thronged withmen, women, and children, waiting, like criminals, to hear their doompronounced. The slave is sure to know who is the most humane, or cruelmaster, within forty miles of him. 

It is easy to find out, on that day, who clothes and feeds his slaves well;for he is surrounded by a crowd, begging, "Please, massa, hire me thisyear. I will work _very_ hard, massa. "

If a slave is unwilling to go with his new master, he is whipped, or lockedup in jail, until he consents to go, and promises not to run away duringthe year. Should he chance to change his mind, thinking it justifiable toviolate an extorted promise, woe unto him if he is caught! The whip is usedtill the blood flows at his feet; and his stiffened limbs are put inchains, to be dragged in the field for days and days!

If he lives until the next year, perhaps the same man will hire him again, without even giving him an opportunity of going to the hiring-ground. Afterthose for hire are disposed of, those for sale are called up. 

O, you happy free women, contrast _your_ New Year's day with that of thepoor bond-woman! With you it is a pleasant season, and the light of the dayis blessed. Friendly wishes meet you every where, and gifts are showeredupon you. Even hearts that have been estranged from you soften at thisseason, and lips that have been silent echo back, "I wish you a happy NewYear. " Children bring their little offerings, and raise their rosy lips fora caress. They are your own, and no hand but that of death can take themfrom you. 

But to the slave mother New Year's day comes laden with peculiar sorrows. She sits on her cold cabin floor, watching the children who may all be tornfrom her the next morning; and often does she wish that she and they mightdie before the day dawns. She may be an ignorant creature, degraded by thesystem that has brutalized her from childhood; but she has a mother'sinstincts, and is capable of feeling a mother's agonies. 

On one of these sale days, I saw a mother lead seven children to theauction-block. She knew that _some_ of them would be taken from her; butthey took _all_. The children were sold to a slave-trader, and their motherwas brought by a man in her own town. Before night her children were allfar away. She begged the trader to tell her where he intended to take them;this he refused to do. How _could_ he, when he knew he would sell them, oneby one, wherever he could command the highest price? I met that mother inthe street, and her wild, haggard face lives to-day in my mind. She wrungher hands in anguish, and exclaimed, "Gone! All gone! Why _don't_ God killme?" I had no words wherewith to comfort her. Instances of this kind are ofdaily, yea, of hourly occurrence. 

Slaveholders have a method, peculiar to their institution, of getting ridof _old_ slaves, whose lives have been worn out in their service. I knew anold woman, who for seventy years faithfully served her master. She hadbecome almost helpless, from hard labor and disease. Her owners moved toAlabama, and the old black woman was left to be sold to any body who wouldgive twenty dollars for her. 

IV. The Slave Who Dared To Feel Like A Man. 

Two years had passed since I entered Dr. Flint's family, and those yearshad brought much of the knowledge that comes from experience, though theyhad afforded little opportunity for any other kinds of knowledge. 

My grandmother had, as much as possible, been a mother to her orphangrandchildren. By perseverance and unwearied industry, she was now mistressof a snug little home, surrounded with the necessaries of life. She wouldhave been happy could her children have shared them with her. Thereremained but three children and two grandchildren, all slaves. Mostearnestly did she strive to make us feel that it was the will of God: thatHe had seen fit to place us under such circumstances; and though it seemedhard, we ought to pray for contentment. 

It was a beautiful faith, coming from a mother who could not call herchildren her own. But I, and Benjamin, her youngest boy, condemned it. Wereasoned that it was much more the will of God that we should be situatedas she was. We longed for a home like hers. There we always found sweetbalsam for our troubles. She was so loving, so sympathizing! She always metus with a smile, and listened with patience to all our sorrows. She spokeso hopefully, that unconsciously the clouds gave place to sunshine. Therewas a grand big oven there, too, that baked bread and nice things for thetown, and we knew there was always a choice bit in store for us. 

But, alas! Even the charms of the old oven failed to reconcile us to ourhard lot. Benjamin was now a tall, handsome lad, strongly and gracefullymade, and with a spirit too bold and daring for a slave. My brotherWilliam, now twelve years old, had the same aversion to the word masterthat he had when he was an urchin of seven years. I was his confidant. Hecame to me with all his troubles. I remember one instance in particular. Itwas on a lovely spring morning, and when I marked the sunlight dancing hereand there, its beauty seemed to mock my sadness. For my master, whoserestless, craving, vicious nature roved about day and night, seeking whomto devour, had just left me, with stinging, scorching words; words thatscathed ear and brain like fire. O, how I despised him! I thought how gladI should be, if some day when he walked the earth, it would open andswallow him up, and disencumber the world of a plague. 

When he told me that I was made for his use, made to obey his command in_every_ thing; that I was nothing but a slave, whose will must and shouldsurrender to his, never before had my puny arm felt half so strong. 

So deeply was I absorbed in painful reflections afterwards, that I neithersaw nor heard the entrance of any one, till the voice of William soundedclose beside me. "Linda, " said he, "what makes you look so sad? I love you. O, Linda, isn't this a bad world? Every body seems so cross and unhappy. Iwish I had died when poor father did. "

I told him that every body was _not_ cross, or unhappy; that those who hadpleasant homes, and kind friends, and who were not afraid to love them, were happy. But we, who were slave-children, without father or mother, could not expect to be happy. We must be good; perhaps that would bring uscontentment. 

"Yes, " he said, "I try to be good; but what's the use? They are all thetime troubling me. " Then he proceeded to relate his afternoon's difficultywith young master Nicholas. It seemed that the brother of master Nicholashad pleased himself with making up stories about William. Master Nicholassaid he should be flogged, and he would do it. Whereupon he went to work;but William fought bravely, and the young master, finding he was gettingthe better of him, undertook to tie his hands behind him. He failed in thatlikewise. By dint of kicking and fisting, William came out of the skirmishnone the worse for a few scratches. 

He continued to discourse, on his young master's _meanness_; how he whippedthe _little_ boys, but was a perfect coward when a tussle ensued betweenhim and white boys of his own size. On such occasions he always took to hislegs. William had other charges to make against him. One was his rubbing uppennies with quicksilver, and passing them off for quarters of a dollar onan old man who kept a fruit stall. William was often sent to buy fruit, andhe earnestly inquired of me what he ought to do under such circumstances. Itold him it was certainly wrong to deceive the old man, and that it was hisduty to tell him of the impositions practised by his young master. Iassured him the old man would not be slow to comprehend the whole, andthere the matter would end. William thought it might with the old man, butnot with _him_. He said he did not mind the smart of the whip, but he didnot like the _idea_ of being whipped. 

While I advised him to be good and forgiving I was not unconscious of thebeam in my own eye. It was the very knowledge of my own shortcomings thaturged me to retain, if possible, some sparks of my brother's God-givennature. I had not lived fourteen years in slavery for nothing. I had felt, seen, and heard enough, to read the characters, and question the motives, of those around me. The war of my life had begun; and though one of God'smost powerless creatures, I resolved never to be conquered. Alas, for me!

If there was one pure, sunny spot for me, I believed it to be in Benjamin'sheart, and in another's, whom I loved with all the ardor of a girl's firstlove. My owner knew of it, and sought in every way to render me miserable. He did not resort to corporal punishment, but to all the petty, tyrannicalways that human ingenuity could devise. 

I remember the first time I was punished. It was in the month of February. My grandmother had taken my old shoes, and replaced them with a new pair. Ineeded them; for several inches of snow had fallen, and it still continuedto fall. When I walked through Mrs. Flint's room, their creaking gratedharshly on her refined nerves. She called me to her, and asked what I hadabout me that made such a horrid noise. I told her it was my new shoes. "Take them off, " said she; "and if you put them on again, I'll throw theminto the fire. "

I took them off, and my stockings also. She then sent me a long distance, on an errand. As I went through the snow, my bare feet tingled. That nightI was very hoarse; and I went to bed thinking the next day would find mesick, perhaps dead. What was my grief on waking to find myself quite well!

I had imagined if I died, or was laid up for some time, that my mistresswould feel a twinge of remorse that she had so hated "the little imp, " asshe styled me. It was my ignorance of that mistress that gave rise to suchextravagant imaginings. 

Dr. Flint occasionally had high prices offered for me; but he always said, "She don't belong to me. She is my daughter's property, and I have no rightto sell her. " Good, honest man! My young mistress was still a child, and Icould look for no protection from her. I loved her, and she returned myaffection. I once heard her father allude to her attachment to me, and hiswife promptly replied that it proceeded from fear. This put unpleasantdoubts into my mind. Did the child feign what she did not feel? or was hermother jealous of the mite of love she bestowed on me? I concluded it mustbe the latter. I said to myself, "Surely, little children are true. "

One afternoon I sat at my sewing, feeling unusual depression of spirits. Mymistress had been accusing me of an offence, of which I assured her I wasperfectly innocent; but I saw, by the contemptuous curl of her lip, thatshe believed I was telling a lie. 

I wondered for what wise purpose God was leading me through such thornypaths, and whether still darker days were in store for me. As I sat musingthus, the door opened softly, and William came in. "Well, brother, " said I, "what is the matter this time?"

"O Linda, Ben and his master have had a dreadful time!" said he. 

My first thought was that Benjamin was killed. "Don't be frightened, Linda, " said William; "I will tell you all about it. "

It appeared that Benjamin's master had sent for him, and he did notimmediately obey the summons. When he did, his master was angry, and beganto whip him. He resisted. Master and slave fought, and finally the masterwas thrown. Benjamin had cause to tremble; for he had thrown to the groundhis master--one of the richest men in town. I anxiously awaited theresult. 

That night I stole to my grandmother's house; and Benjamin also stolethither from his master's. My grandmother had gone to spend a day or twowith an old friend living in the country. 

"I have come, " said Benjamin, "to tell you good by. I am going away. "

I inquired where. 

"To the north, " he replied. 

I looked at him to see whether he was in earnest. I saw it all in his firm, set mouth. I implored him not to go, but he paid no heed to my words. Hesaid he was no longer a boy, and every day made his yoke more galling. Hehad raised his hand against his master, and was to be publicly whipped forthe offence. I reminded him of the poverty and hardships he must encounteramong strangers. I told him he might be caught and brought back; and thatwas terrible to think of. 

He grew vexed, and asked if poverty and hardships with freedom, were notpreferable to our treatment in slavery. "Linda, " he continued, "we are dogshere; foot-balls, cattle, every thing that's mean. No, I will not stay. Letthem bring me back. We don't die but once. "

He was right; but it was hard to give him up. "Go, " said I, "and break yourmother's heart. "

I repented of my words ere they were out. 

"Linda, " said he, speaking as I had not heard him speak that evening, "how_could_ you say that? Poor mother! be kind to her, Linda; and you, too, cousin Fanny. "

Cousin Fanny was a friend who had lived some years with us. 

Farewells were exchanged, and the bright, kind boy, endeared to us by somany acts of love, vanished from our sight. 

It is not necessary to state how he made his escape. Suffice it to say, hewas on his way to New York when a violent storm overtook the vessel. Thecaptain said he must put into the nearest port. This alarmed Benjamin, whowas aware that he would be advertised in every port near his own town. Hisembarrassment was noticed by the captain. To port they went. There theadvertisement met the captain's eye. Benjamin so exactly answered itsdescription, that the captain laid hold on him, and bound him in chains. The storm passed, and they proceeded to New York. Before reaching that portBenjamin managed to get off his chains and throw them overboard. He escapedfrom the vessel, but was pursued, captured, and carried back to his master. 

When my grandmother returned home and found her youngest child had fled, great was her sorrow; but, with characteristic piety, she said, "God's willbe done. " Each morning, she inquired if any news had been heard from herboy. Yes, news _was_ heard. The master was rejoicing over a letter, announcing the capture of his human chattel. 

That day seems but as yesterday, so well do I remember it. I saw him ledthrough the streets in chains, to jail. His face was ghastly pale, yet fullof determination. He had begged one of the sailors to go to his mother'shouse and ask her not to meet him. He said the sight of her distress wouldtake from him all self-control. She yearned to see him, and she went; butshe screened herself in the crowd, that it might be as her child had said. 

We were not allowed to visit him; but we had known the jailer for years, and he was a kind-hearted man. At midnight he opened the jail door for mygrandmother and myself to enter, in disguise. When we entered the cell nota sound broke the stillness. "Benjamin, Benjamin!" whispered mygrandmother. No answer. "Benjamin!" she again faltered. There was a jingleof chains. The moon had just risen, and cast an uncertain light through thebars of the window. We knelt down and took Benjamin's cold hands in ours. We did not speak. Sobs were heard, and Benjamin's lips were unsealed; forhis mother was weeping on his neck. How vividly does memory bring back thatsad night! Mother and son talked together. He asked her pardon for thesuffering he had caused her. She said she had nothing to forgive; she couldnot blame his desire for freedom. He told her that when he was captured, hebroke away, and was about casting himself into the river, when thoughts of_her_ came over him, and he desisted. She asked if he did not also think ofGod. I fancied I saw his face grow fierce in the moonlight. He answered, "No, I did not think of him. When a man is hunted like a wild beast heforgets there is a God, a heaven. He forgets every thing in his struggle toget beyond the reach of the bloodhounds. "

"Don't talk so, Benjamin, " said she. "Put your trust in God. Be humble, mychild, and your master will forgive you. "

"Forgive me for _what_, mother? For not letting him treat me like a dog?No! I will never humble myself to him. I have worked for him for nothingall my life, and I am repaid with stripes and imprisonment. Here I willstay till I die, or till he sells me. "

The poor mother shuddered at his words. I think he felt it; for when henext spoke, his voice was calmer. "Don't fret about me, mother. I ain'tworth it, " said he. "I wish I had some of your goodness. You bear everything patiently, just as though you thought it was all right. I wish Icould. "

She told him she had not always been so; once, she was like him; but whensore troubles came upon her, and she had no arm to lean upon, she learnedto call on God, and he lightened her burdens. She besought him to dolikewise. 

We overstaid our time, and were obliged to hurry from the jail. 

Benjamin had been imprisoned three weeks, when my grandmother went tointercede for him with his master. He was immovable. He said Benjaminshould serve as an example to the rest of his slaves; he should be kept injail till he was subdued, or be sold if he got but one dollar for him. However, he afterwards relented in some degree. The chains were taken off, and we were allowed to visit him. 

As his food was of the coarsest kind, we carried him as often as possible awarm supper, accompanied with some little luxury for the jailer. 

Three months elapsed, and there was no prospect of release or of apurchaser. One day he was heard to sing and laugh. This piece of indecorumwas told to his master, and the overseer was ordered to re-chain him. Hewas now confined in an apartment with other prisoners, who were coveredwith filthy rags. Benjamin was chained near them, and was soon covered withvermin. He worked at his chains till he succeeded in getting out of them. He passed them through the bars of the window, with a request that theyshould be taken to his master, and he should be informed that he wascovered with vermin. 

This audacity was punished with heavier chains, and prohibition of ourvisits. 

My grandmother continued to send him fresh changes of clothes. The old oneswere burned up. The last night we saw him in jail his mother still beggedhim to send for his master, and beg his pardon. Neither persuasion norargument could turn him from his purpose. He calmly answered, "I am waitinghis time. "

Those chains were mournful to hear. 

Another three months passed, and Benjamin left his prison walls. We thatloved him waited to bid him a long and last farewell. A slave trader hadbought him. You remember, I told you what price he brought when ten yearsof age. Now he was more than twenty years old, and sold for three hundreddollars. The master had been blind to his own interest. Long confinementhad made his face too pale, his form too thin; moreover, the trader hadheard something of his character, and it did not strike him as suitable fora slave. He said he would give any price if the handsome lad was a girl. Wethanked God that he was not. 

Could you have seen that mother clinging to her child, when they fastenedthe irons upon his wrists; could you have heard her heart-rending groans, and seen her bloodshot eyes wander wildly from face to face, vainlypleading for mercy; could you have witnessed that scene as I saw it, youwould exclaim, _Slavery is damnable_! Benjamin, her youngest, her pet, wasforever gone! She could not realize it. She had had an interview with thetrader for the purpose of ascertaining if Benjamin could be purchased. Shewas told it was impossible, as he had given bonds not to sell him till hewas out of the state. He promised that he would not sell him till hereached New Orleans. 

With a strong arm and unvaried trust, my grandmother began her work oflove. Benjamin must be free. If she succeeded, she knew they would still beseparated; but the sacrifice was not too great. Day and night she labored. The trader's price would treble that he gave; but she was not discouraged. 

She employed a lawyer to write to a gentleman, whom she knew, in NewOrleans. She begged him to interest himself for Benjamin, and he willinglyfavored her request. When he saw Benjamin, and stated his business, hethanked him; but said he preferred to wait a while before making the traderan offer. He knew he had tried to obtain a high price for him, and hadinvariably failed. This encouraged him to make another effort for freedom. So one morning, long before day, Benjamin was missing. He was riding overthe blue billows, bound for Baltimore. 

For once his white face did him a kindly service. They had no suspicionthat it belonged to a slave; otherwise, the law would have been followedout to the letter, and the _thing_ rendered back to slavery. The brightestskies are often overshadowed by the darkest clouds. Benjamin was takensick, and compelled to remain in Baltimore three weeks. His strength wasslow in returning; and his desire to continue his journey seemed to retardhis recovery. How could he get strength without air and exercise? Heresolved to venture on a short walk. A by-street was selected, where hethought himself secure of not being met by any one that knew him; but avoice called out, "Halloo, Ben, my boy! what are you doing _here_!"

His first impulse was to run; but his legs trembled so that he could notstir. He turned to confront his antagonist, and behold, there stood his oldmaster's next door neighbor! He thought it was all over with him now; butit proved otherwise. That man was a miracle. He possessed a goodly numberof slaves, and yet was not quite deaf to that mystic clock, whose tickingis rarely heard in the slaveholder's breast. 

"Ben, you are sick, " said he. "Why, you look like a ghost. I guess I gaveyou something of a start. Never mind, Ben, I am not going to touch you. Youhad a pretty tough time of it, and you may go on your way rejoicing for allme. But I would advise you to get out of this place plaguy quick, for thereare several gentlemen here from our town. " He described the nearest andsafest route to New York, and added, "I shall be glad to tell your mother Ihave seen you. Good by, Ben. "

Benjamin turned away, filled with gratitude, and surprised that the town hehated contained such a gem--a gem worthy of a purer setting. 

This gentleman was a Northerner by birth, and had married a southern lady. On his return, he told my grandmother that he had seen her son, and of theservice he had rendered him. 

Benjamin reached New York safely, and concluded to stop there until he hadgained strength enough to proceed further. It happened that mygrandmother's only remaining son had sailed for the same city on businessfor his mistress. Through God's providence, the brothers met. You may besure it was a happy meeting. "O Phil, " exclaimed Benjamin, "I am here atlast. " Then he told him how near he came to dying, almost in sight of freeland, and how he prayed that he might live to get one breath of free air. He said life was worth something now, and it would be hard to die. In theold jail he had not valued it; once, he was tempted to destroy it; butsomething, he did not know what, had prevented him; perhaps it was fear. Hehad heard those who profess to be religious declare there was no heaven forself-murderers; and as his life had been pretty hot here, he did not desirea continuation of the same in another world. "If I die now, " he exclaimed, "thank God, I shall die a freeman!"

He begged my uncle Phillip not to return south; but stay and work with him, till they earned enough to buy those at home. His brother told him it wouldkill their mother if he deserted her in her trouble. She had pledged herhouse, and with difficulty had raised money to buy him. Would he be bought?

"No, never!" he replied. "Do you suppose, Phil, when I have got so far outof their clutches, I will give them one red cent? No! And do you suppose Iwould turn mother out of her home in her old age? That I would let her payall those hard-earned dollars for me, and never to see me? For you know shewill stay south as long as her other children are slaves. What a goodmother! Tell her to buy _you_, Phil. You have been a comfort to her, and Ihave been a trouble. And Linda, poor Linda; what'll become of her? Phil, you don't know what a life they lead her. She has told me something aboutit, and I wish old Flint was dead, or a better man. When I was in jail, heasked her if she didn't want _him_ to ask my master to forgive me, and takeme home again. She told him, No; that I didn't want to go back. He got mad, and said we were all alike. I never despised my own master half as much asI do that man. There is many a worse slaveholder than my master; but forall that I would not be his slave. "

While Benjamin was sick, he had parted with nearly all his clothes to paynecessary expenses. But he did not part with a little pin I fastened in hisbosom when we parted. It was the most valuable thing I owned, and I thoughtnone more worthy to wear it. He had it still. 

His brother furnished him with clothes, and gave him what money he had. 

They parted with moistened eyes; and as Benjamin turned away, he said, "Phil, I part with all my kindred. " And so it proved. We never heard fromhim again. 

Uncle Phillip came home; and the first words he uttered when he entered thehouse were, "Mother, Ben is free! I have seen him in New York. " She stoodlooking at him with a bewildered air. "Mother, don't you believe it?" hesaid, laying his hand softly upon her shoulder. She raised her hands, andexclaimed, "God be praised! Let us thank him. " She dropped on her knees, and poured forth her heart in prayer. Then Phillip must sit down and repeatto her every word Benjamin had said. He told her all; only he forbore tomention how sick and pale her darling looked. Why should he distress herwhen she could do him no good?

The brave old woman still toiled on, hoping to rescue some of her otherchildren. After a while she succeeded in buying Phillip. She paid eighthundred dollars, and came home with the precious document that secured hisfreedom. The happy mother and son sat together by the old hearthstone thatnight, telling how proud they were of each other, and how they would proveto the world that they could take care of themselves, as they had longtaken care of others. We all concluded by saying, "He that is _willing_ tobe a slave, let him be a slave. "

V. The Trials Of Girlhood. 

During the first years of my service in Dr. Flint's family, I wasaccustomed to share some indulgences with the children of my mistress. Though this seemed to me no more than right, I was grateful for it, andtried to merit the kindness by the faithful discharge of my duties. But Inow entered on my fifteenth year--a sad epoch in the life of a slave girl. My master began to whisper foul words in my ear. Young as I was, I couldnot remain ignorant of their import. I tried to treat them withindifference or contempt. The master's age, my extreme youth, and the fearthat his conduct would be reported to my grandmother, made him bear thistreatment for many months. He was a crafty man, and resorted to many meansto accomplish his purposes. Sometimes he had stormy, terrific ways, thatmade his victims tremble; sometimes he assumed a gentleness that he thoughtmust surely subdue. Of the two, I preferred his stormy moods, although theyleft me trembling. He tried his utmost to corrupt the pure principles mygrandmother had instilled. He peopled my young mind with unclean images, such as only a vile monster could think of. I turned from him with disgustand hatred. But he was my master. I was compelled to live under the sameroof with him--where I saw a man forty years my senior daily violating themost sacred commandments of nature. He told me I was his property; that Imust be subject to his will in all things. My soul revolted against themean tyranny. But where could I turn for protection? No matter whether theslave girl be as black as ebony or as fair as her mistress. In either case, there is no shadow of law to protect her from insult, from violence, oreven from death; all these are inflicted by fiends who bear the shape ofmen. The mistress, who ought to protect the helpless victim, has no otherfeelings towards her but those of jealousy and rage. The degradation, thewrongs, the vices, that grow out of slavery, are more than I can describe. They are greater than you would willingly believe. Surely, if you creditedone half the truths that are told you concerning the helpless millionssuffering in this cruel bondage, you at the north would not help to tightenthe yoke. You surely would refuse to do for the master, on your own soil, the mean and cruel work which trained bloodhounds and the lowest class ofwhites do for him at the south. 

Every where the years bring to all enough of sin and sorrow; but in slaverythe very dawn of life is darkened by these shadows. Even the little child, who is accustomed to wait on her mistress and her children, will learn, before she is twelve years old, why it is that her mistress hates such andsuch a one among the slaves. Perhaps the child's own mother is among thosehated ones. She listens to violent outbreaks of jealous passion, and cannothelp understanding what is the cause. She will become prematurely knowingin evil things. Soon she will learn to tremble when she hears her master'sfootfall. She will be compelled to realize that she is no longer a child. If God has bestowed beauty upon her, it will prove her greatest curse. Thatwhich commands admiration in the white woman only hastens the degradationof the female slave. I know that some are too much brutalized by slavery tofeel the humiliation of their position; but many slaves feel it mostacutely, and shrink from the memory of it. I cannot tell how much Isuffered in the presence of these wrongs, nor how I am still pained by theretrospect. My master met me at every turn, reminding me that I belonged tohim, and swearing by heaven and earth that he would compel me to submit tohim. If I went out for a breath of fresh air, after a day of unweariedtoil, his footsteps dogged me. If I knelt by my mother's grave, his darkshadow fell on me even there. The light heart which nature had given mebecame heavy with sad forebodings. The other slaves in my master's housenoticed the change. Many of them pitied me; but none dared to ask thecause. They had no need to inquire. They knew too well the guilty practicesunder that roof; and they were aware that to speak of them was an offencethat never went unpunished. 

I longed for some one to confide in. I would have given the world to havelaid my head on my grandmother's faithful bosom, and told her all mytroubles. But Dr. Flint swore he would kill me, if I was not as silent asthe grave. Then, although my grandmother was all in all to me, I feared heras well as loved her. I had been accustomed to look up to her with arespect bordering upon awe. I was very young, and felt shamefaced abouttelling her such impure things, especially as I knew her to be very stricton such subjects. Moreover, she was a woman of a high spirit. She wasusually very quiet in her demeanor; but if her indignation was onceroused, it was not very easily quelled. I had been told that she oncechased a white gentleman with a loaded pistol, because he insulted oneof her daughters. I dreaded the consequences of a violent outbreak;and both pride and fear kept me silent. But though I did not confidein my grandmother, and even evaded her vigilant watchfulness and inquiry, her presence in the neighborhood was some protection to me. Though shehad been a slave, Dr. Flint was afraid of her. He dreaded her scorchingrebukes. Moreover, she was known and patronized by many people; and hedid not wish to have his villany made public. It was lucky for me thatI did not live on a distant plantation, but in a town not so large thatthe inhabitants were ignorant of each other's affairs. Bad as are thelaws and customs in a slaveholding community, the doctor, as aprofessional man, deemed it prudent to keep up some outward show ofdecency. 

O, what days and nights of fear and sorrow that man caused me! Reader, itis not to awaken sympathy for myself that I am telling you truthfully whatI suffered in slavery. I do it to kindle a flame of compassion in yourhearts for my sisters who are still in bondage, suffering as I oncesuffered. 

I once saw two beautiful children playing together. One was a fair whitechild; the other was her slave, and also her sister. When I saw themembracing each other, and heard their joyous laughter, I turned sadly awayfrom the lovely sight. I foresaw the inevitable blight that would fall onthe little slave's heart. I knew how soon her laughter would be changed tosighs. The fair child grew up to be a still fairer woman. From childhood towomanhood her pathway was blooming with flowers, and overarched by a sunnysky. Scarcely one day of her life had been clouded when the sun rose on herhappy bridal morning. 

How had those years dealt with her slave sister, the little playmate of herchildhood? She, also, was very beautiful; but the flowers and sunshine oflove were not for her. She drank the cup of sin, and shame, and misery, whereof her persecuted race are compelled to drink. 

In view of these things, why are ye silent, ye free men and women of thenorth? Why do your tongues falter in maintenance of the right? Would that Ihad more ability! But my heart is so full, and my pen is so weak! There arenoble men and women who plead for us, striving to help those who cannothelp themselves. God bless them! God give them strength and courage to goon! God bless those, every where, who are laboring to advance the cause ofhumanity!

VI. The Jealous Mistress. 

I would ten thousand times rather that my children should be thehalf-starved paupers of Ireland than to be the most pampered among theslaves of America. I would rather drudge out my life on a cottonplantation, till the grave opened to give me rest, than to live with anunprincipled master and a jealous mistress. The felon's home in apenitentiary is preferable. He may repent, and turn from the error of hisways, and so find peace; but it is not so with a favorite slave. She is notallowed to have any pride of character. It is deemed a crime in her to wishto be virtuous. 

Mrs. Flint possessed the key to her husband's character before I was born. She might have used this knowledge to counsel and to screen the young andthe innocent among her slaves; but for them she had no sympathy. They werethe objects of her constant suspicion and malevolence. She watched herhusband with unceasing vigilance; but he was well practised in means toevade it. What he could not find opportunity to say in words he manifestedin signs. He invented more than were ever thought of in a deaf and dumbasylum. I let them pass, as if I did not understand what he meant; and manywere the curses and threats bestowed on me for my stupidity. One day hecaught me teaching myself to write. He frowned, as if he was not wellpleased; but I suppose he came to the conclusion that such anaccomplishment might help to advance his favorite scheme. Before long, notes were often slipped into my hand. I would return them, saying, "Ican't read them, sir. " "Can't you?" he replied; "then I must read them toyou. " He always finished the reading by asking, "Do you understand?"Sometimes he would complain of the heat of the tea room, and order hissupper to be placed on a small table in the piazza. He would seat himselfthere with a well-satisfied smile, and tell me to stand by and brush awaythe flies. He would eat very slowly, pausing between the mouthfuls. Theseintervals were employed in describing the happiness I was so foolishlythrowing away, and in threatening me with the penalty that finally awaitedmy stubborn disobedience. He boasted much of the forbearance he hadexercised towards me, and reminded me that there was a limit to hispatience. When I succeeded in avoiding opportunities for him to talk to meat home, I was ordered to come to his office, to do some errand. Whenthere, I was obliged to stand and listen to such language as he saw fit toaddress to me. Sometimes I so openly expressed my contempt for him that hewould become violently enraged, and I wondered why he did not strike me. Circumstanced as he was, he probably thought it was better policy to beforebearing. But the state of things grew worse and worse daily. Indesperation I told him that I must and would apply to my grandmother forprotection. He threatened me with death, and worse than death, if I madeany complaint to her. Strange to say, I did not despair. I was naturally ofa buoyant disposition, and always I had a hope of somehow getting out ofhis clutches. Like many a poor, simple slave before me, I trusted that somethreads of joy would yet be woven into my dark destiny. 

I had entered my sixteenth year, and every day it became more apparent thatmy presence was intolerable to Mrs. Flint. Angry words frequently passedbetween her and her husband. He had never punished me himself, and he wouldnot allow any body else to punish me. In that respect, she was neversatisfied; but, in her angry moods, no terms were too vile for her tobestow upon me. Yet I, whom she detested so bitterly, had far more pity forher than he had, whose duty it was to make her life happy. I never wrongedher, or wished to wrong her, and one word of kindness from her would havebrought me to her feet. 

After repeated quarrels between the doctor and his wife, he announced hisintention to take his youngest daughter, then four years old, to sleep inhis apartment. It was necessary that a servant should sleep in the sameroom, to be on hand if the child stirred. I was selected for that office, and informed for what purpose that arrangement had been made. By managingto keep within sight of people, as much as possible, during the day time, Ihad hitherto succeeded in eluding my master, though a razor was often heldto my throat to force me to change this line of policy. At night I slept bythe side of my great aunt, where I felt safe. He was too prudent to comeinto her room. She was an old woman, and had been in the family many years. Moreover, as a married man, and a professional man, he deemed it necessaryto save appearances in some degree. But he resolved to remove the obstaclein the way of his scheme; and he thought he had planned it so that heshould evade suspicion. He was well aware how much I prized my refuge bythe side of my old aunt, and he determined to dispossess me of it. Thefirst night the doctor had the little child in his room alone. The nextmorning, I was ordered to take my station as nurse the following night. Akind Providence interposed in my favor. During the day Mrs. Flint heard ofthis new arrangement, and a storm followed. I rejoiced to hear it rage. 

After a while my mistress sent for me to come to her room. Her firstquestion was, "Did you know you were to sleep in the doctor's room?"

"Yes, ma'am. "

"Who told you?"

"My master. "

"Will you answer truly all the questions I ask?"

"Yes, ma'am. "

"Tell me, then, as you hope to be forgiven, are you innocent of what I haveaccused you?"

"I am. "

She handed me a Bible, and said, "Lay your hand on your heart, kiss thisholy book, and swear before God that you tell me the truth. "

I took the oath she required, and I did it with a clear conscience. 

"You have taken God's holy word to testify your innocence, " said she. "Ifyou have deceived me, beware! Now take this stool, sit down, look medirectly in the face, and tell me all that has passed between your masterand you. "

I did as she ordered. As I went on with my account her color changedfrequently, she wept, and sometimes groaned. She spoke in tones so sad, that I was touched by her grief. The tears came to my eyes; but I was soonconvinced that her emotions arose from anger and wounded pride. She feltthat her marriage vows were desecrated, her dignity insulted; but she hadno compassion for the poor victim of her husband's perfidy. She pitiedherself as a martyr; but she was incapable of feeling for the condition ofshame and misery in which her unfortunate, helpless slave was placed. Yetperhaps she had some touch of feeling for me; for when the conference wasended, she spoke kindly, and promised to protect me. I should have beenmuch comforted by this assurance if I could have had confidence in it; butmy experiences in slavery had filled me with distrust. She was not a veryrefined woman, and had not much control over her passions. I was an objectof her jealousy, and, consequently, of her hatred; and I knew I could notexpect kindness or confidence from her under the circumstances in which Iwas placed. I could not blame her. Slaveholders' wives feel as other womenwould under similar circumstances. The fire of her temper kindled fromsmall-sparks, and now the flame became so intense that the doctor wasobliged to give up his intended arrangement. 

I knew I had ignited the torch, and I expected to suffer for it afterwards;but I felt too thankful to my mistress for the timely aid she rendered meto care much about that. She now took me to sleep in a room adjoining herown. There I was an object of her especial care, though not to her especialcomfort, for she spent many a sleepless night to watch over me. Sometimes Iwoke up, and found her bending over me. At other times she whispered in myear, as though it was her husband who was speaking to me, and listened tohear what I would answer. If she startled me, on such occasions, she wouldglide stealthily away; and the next morning she would tell me I had beentalking in my sleep, and ask who I was talking to. At last, I began to befearful for my life. It had been often threatened; and you can imagine, better than I can describe, what an unpleasant sensation it must produce towake up in the dead of night and find a jealous woman bending over you. Terrible as this experience was, I had fears that it would give place toone more terrible. 

My mistress grew weary of her vigils; they did not prove satisfactory. Shechanged her tactics. She now tried the trick of accusing my master ofcrime, in my presence, and gave my name as the author of the accusation. Tomy utter astonishment, he replied, "I don't believe it; but if she didacknowledge it, you tortured her into exposing me. " Tortured into exposinghim! Truly, Satan had no difficulty in distinguishing the color of hissoul! I understood his object in making this false representation. It wasto show me that I gained nothing by seeking the protection of my mistress;that the power was still all in his own hands. I pitied Mrs. Flint. She wasa second wife, many years the junior of her husband; and the hoary-headedmiscreant was enough to try the patience of a wiser and better woman. Shewas completely foiled, and knew not how to proceed. She would gladly havehad me flogged for my supposed false oath; but, as I have already stated, the doctor never allowed any one to whip me. The old sinner was politic. The application of the lash might have led to remarks that would haveexposed him in the eyes of his children and grandchildren. How often did Irejoice that I lived in a town where all the inhabitants knew each other!If I had been on a remote plantation, or lost among the multitude of acrowded city, I should not be a living woman at this day. 

The secrets of slavery are concealed like those of the Inquisition. Mymaster was, to my knowledge, the father of eleven slaves. But did themothers dare to tell who was the father of their children? Did the otherslaves dare to allude to it, except in whispers among themselves? No, indeed! They knew too well the terrible consequences. 

My grandmother could not avoid seeing things which excited her suspicions. She was uneasy about me, and tried various ways to buy me; but thenever-changing answer was always repeated: "Linda does not belong to _me_. She is my daughter's property, and I have no legal right to sell her. " Theconscientious man! He was too scrupulous to _sell_ me; but he had noscruples whatever about committing a much greater wrong against thehelpless young girl placed under his guardianship, as his daughter'sproperty. Sometimes my persecutor would ask me whether I would like to besold. I told him I would rather be sold to any body than to lead such alife as I did. On such occasions he would assume the air of a very injuredindividual, and reproach me for my ingratitude. "Did I not take you intothe house, and make you the companion of my own children?" he would say. "Have _I_ ever treated you like a negro? I have never allowed you to bepunished, not even to please your mistress. And this is the recompense Iget, you ungrateful girl!" I answered that he had reasons of his own forscreening me from punishment, and that the course he pursued made mymistress hate me and persecute me. If I wept, he would say, "Poor child!Don't cry! don't cry! I will make peace for you with your mistress. Onlylet me arrange matters in my own way. Poor, foolish girl! you don't knowwhat is for your own good. I would cherish you. I would make a lady of you. Now go, and think of all I have promised you. "

I did think of it. 

Reader, I draw no imaginary pictures of southern homes. I am telling youthe plain truth. Yet when victims make their escape from the wild beast ofSlavery, northerners consent to act the part of bloodhounds, and hunt thepoor fugitive back into his den, "full of dead men's bones, and alluncleanness. " Nay, more, they are not only willing, but proud, to givetheir daughters in marriage to slaveholders. The poor girls have romanticnotions of a sunny clime, and of the flowering vines that all the yearround shade a happy home. To what disappointments are they destined! Theyoung wife soon learns that the husband in whose hands she has placed herhappiness pays no regard to his marriage vows. Children of every shade ofcomplexion play with her own fair babies, and too well she knows that theyare born unto him of his own household. Jealousy and hatred enter theflowery home, and it is ravaged of its loveliness. 

Southern women often marry a man knowing that he is the father of manylittle slaves. They do not trouble themselves about it. They regard suchchildren as property, as marketable as the pigs on the plantation; and itis seldom that they do not make them aware of this by passing them into theslave-trader's hands as soon as possible, and thus getting them out oftheir sight. I am glad to say there are some honorable exceptions. 

I have myself known two southern wives who exhorted their husbands to freethose slaves towards whom they stood in a "parental relation;" and theirrequest was granted. These husbands blushed before the superior noblenessof their wives' natures. Though they had only counselled them to do thatwhich it was their duty to do, it commanded their respect, and renderedtheir conduct more exemplary. Concealment was at an end, and confidencetook the place of distrust. 

Though this bad institution deadens the moral sense, even in white women, to a fearful extent, it is not altogether extinct. I have heard southernladies say of Mr. Such a one, "He not only thinks it no disgrace to be thefather of those little niggers, but he is not ashamed to call himself theirmaster. I declare, such things ought not to be tolerated in any decentsociety!"

VII. The Lover. 

Why does the slave ever love? Why allow the tendrils of the heart to twinearound objects which may at any moment be wrenched away by the hand ofviolence? When separations come by the hand of death, the pious soul canbow in resignation, and say, "Not my will, but thine be done, O Lord!" Butwhen the ruthless hand of man strikes the blow, regardless of the misery hecauses, it is hard to be submissive. I did not reason thus when I was ayoung girl. Youth will be youth. I loved and I indulged the hope that thedark clouds around me would turn out a bright lining. I forgot that in theland of my birth the shadows are too dense for light to penetrate. A land

 Where laughter is not mirth; nor thought the mind; Nor words a language; nor e'en men mankind. Where cries reply to curses, shrieks to blows, And each is tortured in his separate hell. 

There was in the neighborhood a young colored carpenter; a free born man. We had been well acquainted in childhood, and frequently met togetherafterwards. We became mutually attached, and he proposed to marry me. Iloved him with all the ardor of a young girl's first love. But when Ireflected that I was a slave, and that the laws gave no sanction to themarriage of such, my heart sank within me. My lover wanted to buy me; but Iknew that Dr. Flint was too willful and arbitrary a man to consent to thatarrangement. From him, I was sure of experiencing all sort of opposition, and I had nothing to hope from my mistress. She would have been delightedto have got rid of me, but not in that way. It would have relieved her mindof a burden if she could have seen me sold to some distant state, but if Iwas married near home I should be just as much in her husband's power as Ihad previously been, --for the husband of a slave has no power to protecther. Moreover, my mistress, like many others, seemed to think that slaveshad no right to any family ties of their own; that they were created merelyto wait upon the family of the mistress. I once heard her abuse a youngslave girl, who told her that a colored man wanted to make her his wife. "Iwill have you peeled and pickled, my lady, " said she, "if I ever hear youmention that subject again. Do you suppose that I will have you tending_my_ children with the children of that nigger?" The girl to whom she saidthis had a mulatto child, of course not acknowledged by its father. Thepoor black man who loved her would have been proud to acknowledge hishelpless offspring. 

Many and anxious were the thoughts I revolved in my mind. I was at a losswhat to do. Above all things, I was desirous to spare my lover the insultsthat had cut so deeply into my own soul. I talked with my grandmother aboutit, and partly told her my fears. I did not dare to tell her the worst. Shehad long suspected all was not right, and if I confirmed her suspicions Iknew a storm would rise that would prove the overthrow of all my hopes. 

This love-dream had been my support through many trials; and I could notbear to run the risk of having it suddenly dissipated. There was a lady inthe neighborhood, a particular friend of Dr. Flint's, who often visited thehouse. I had a great respect for her, and she had always manifested afriendly interest in me. Grandmother thought she would have great influencewith the doctor. I went to this lady, and told her my story. I told her Iwas aware that my lover's being a free-born man would prove a greatobjection; but he wanted to buy me; and if Dr. Flint would consent to thatarrangement, I felt sure he would be willing to pay any reasonable price. She knew that Mrs. Flint disliked me; therefore, I ventured to suggest thatperhaps my mistress would approve of my being sold, as that would rid herof me. The lady listened with kindly sympathy, and promised to do herutmost to promote my wishes. She had an interview with the doctor, and Ibelieve she pleaded my cause earnestly; but it was all to no purpose. 

How I dreaded my master now! Every minute I expected to be summoned to hispresence; but the day passed, and I heard nothing from him. The nextmorning, a message was brought to me: "Master wants you in his study. " Ifound the door ajar, and I stood a moment gazing at the hateful man whoclaimed a right to rule me, body and soul. I entered, and tried to appearcalm. I did not want him to know how my heart was bleeding. He lookedfixedly at me, with an expression which seemed to say, "I have half a mindto kill you on the spot. " At last he broke the silence, and that was arelief to both of us. 

"So you want to be married, do you?" said he, "and to a free nigger. "

"Yes, sir. "

"Well, I'll soon convince you whether I am your master, or the niggerfellow you honor so highly. If you _must_ have a husband, you may take upwith one of my slaves. "

What a situation I should be in, as the wife of one of _his_ slaves, evenif my heart had been interested!

I replied, "Don't you suppose, sir, that a slave can have some preferenceabout marrying? Do you suppose that all men are alike to her?"

"Do you love this nigger?" said he, abruptly. 

"Yes, sir. "

"How dare you tell me so!" he exclaimed, in great wrath. After a slightpause, he added, "I supposed you thought more of yourself; that you feltabove the insults of such puppies. "

I replied, "If he is a puppy, I am a puppy, for we are both of the negrorace. It is right and honorable for us to love each other. The man you calla puppy never insulted me, sir; and he would not love me if he did notbelieve me to be a virtuous woman. "

He sprang upon me like a tiger, and gave me a stunning blow. It was thefirst time he had ever struck me; and fear did not enable me to control myanger. When I had recovered a little from the effects, I exclaimed, "Youhave struck me for answering you honestly. How I despise you!"

There was silence for some minutes. Perhaps he was deciding what should bemy punishment; or, perhaps, he wanted to give me time to reflect on what Ihad said, and to whom I had said it. Finally, he asked, "Do you know whatyou have said?"

"Yes, sir; but your treatment drove me to it. "

"Do you know that I have a right to do as I like with you, --that I can killyou, if I please?"

"You have tried to kill me, and I wish you had; but you have no right to doas you like with me. "

"Silence!" he exclaimed, in a thundering voice. "By heavens, girl, youforget yourself too far! Are you mad? If you are, I will soon bring you toyour senses. Do you think any other master would bear what I have bornefrom you this morning? Many masters would have killed you on the spot. Howwould you like to be sent to jail for your insolence?"

"I know I have been disrespectful, sir, " I replied; "but you drove me toit; I couldn't help it. As for the jail, there would be more peace for methere than there is here. "

"You deserve to go there, " said he, "and to be under such treatment, thatyou would forget the meaning of the word _peace_. It would do you good. Itwould take some of your high notions out of you. But I am not ready to sendyou there yet, notwithstanding your ingratitude for all my kindness andforbearance. You have been the plague of my life. I have wanted to make youhappy, and I have been repaid with the basest ingratitude; but though youhave proved yourself incapable of appreciating my kindness, I will belenient towards you, Linda. I will give you one more chance to redeem yourcharacter. If you behave yourself and do as I require, I will forgive youand treat you as I always have done; but if you disobey me, I will punishyou as I would the meanest slave on my plantation. Never let me hear thatfellow's name mentioned again. If I ever know of your speaking to him, Iwill cowhide you both; and if I catch him lurking about my premises, I willshoot him as soon as I would a dog. Do you hear what I say? I'll teach youa lesson about marriage and free niggers! Now go, and let this be the lasttime I have occasion to speak to you on this subject. "

Reader, did you ever hate? I hope not. I never did but once; and I trust Inever shall again. Somebody has called it "the atmosphere of hell;" and Ibelieve it is so. 

For a fortnight the doctor did not speak to me. He thought to mortify me;to make me feel that I had disgraced myself by receiving the honorableaddresses of a respectable colored man, in preference to the base proposalsof a white man. But though his lips disdained to address me, his eyes werevery loquacious. No animal ever watched its prey more narrowly than hewatched me. He knew that I could write, though he had failed to make meread his letters; and he was now troubled lest I should exchange letterswith another man. After a while he became weary of silence; and I was sorryfor it. One morning, as he passed through the hall, to leave the house, hecontrived to thrust a note into my hand. I thought I had better read it, and spare myself the vexation of having him read it to me. It expressedregret for the blow he had given me, and reminded me that I myself waswholly to blame for it. He hoped I had become convinced of the injury I wasdoing myself by incurring his displeasure. He wrote that he had made up hismind to go to Louisiana; that he should take several slaves with him, andintended I should be one of the number. My mistress would remain where shewas; therefore I should have nothing to fear from that quarter. If Imerited kindness from him, he assured me that it would be lavishlybestowed. He begged me to think over the matter, and answer the followingday. 

The next morning I was called to carry a pair of scissors to his room. Ilaid them on the table, with the letter beside them. He thought it was myanswer, and did not call me back. I went as usual to attend my youngmistress to and from school. He met me in the street, and ordered me tostop at his office on my way back. When I entered, he showed me his letter, and asked me why I had not answered it. I replied, "I am your daughter'sproperty, and it is in your power to send me, or take me, wherever youplease. " He said he was very glad to find me so willing to go, and that weshould start early in the autumn. He had a large practice in the town, andI rather thought he had made up the story merely to frighten me. Howeverthat might be, I was determined that I would never go to Louisiana withhim. 

Summer passed away, and early in the autumn Dr. Flint's eldest son was sentto Louisiana to examine the country, with a view to emigrating. That newsdid not disturb me. I knew very well that I should not be sent with _him_. That I had not been taken to the plantation before this time, was owing tothe fact that his son was there. He was jealous of his son; and jealousy ofthe overseer had kept him from punishing me by sending me into the fieldsto work. Is it strange, that I was not proud of these protectors? As forthe overseer, he was a man for whom I had less respect than I had for abloodhound. 

Young Mr. Flint did not bring back a favorable report of Louisiana, and Iheard no more of that scheme. Soon after this, my lover met me at thecorner of the street, and I stopped to speak to him. Looking up, I saw mymaster watching us from his window. I hurried home, trembling with fear. Iwas sent for, immediately, to go to his room. He met me with a blow. "Whenis mistress to be married?" said he, in a sneering tone. A shower of oathsand imprecations followed. How thankful I was that my lover was a free man!that my tyrant had no power to flog him for speaking to me in the street!

Again and again I revolved in my mind how all this would end. There was nohope that the doctor would consent to sell me on any terms. He had an ironwill, and was determined to keep me, and to conquer me. My lover was anintelligent and religious man. Even if he could have obtained permission tomarry me while I was a slave, the marriage would give him no power toprotect me from my master. It would have made him miserable to witness theinsults I should have been subjected to. And then, if we had children, Iknew they must "follow the condition of the mother. " What a terrible blightthat would be on the heart of a free, intelligent father! For _his_ sake, Ifelt that I ought not to link his fate with my own unhappy destiny. He wasgoing to Savannah to see about a little property left him by an uncle; andhard as it was to bring my feelings to it, I earnestly entreated him not tocome back. I advised him to go to the Free States, where his tongue wouldnot be tied, and where his intelligence would be of more avail to him. Heleft me, still hoping the day would come when I could be bought. With methe lamp of hope had gone out. The dream of my girlhood was over. I feltlonely and desolate. 

Still I was not stripped of all. I still had my good grandmother, and myaffectionate brother. When he put his arms round my neck, and looked intomy eyes, as if to read there the troubles I dared not tell, I felt that Istill had something to love. But even that pleasant emotion was chilled bythe reflection that he might be torn from me at any moment, by some suddenfreak of my master. If he had known how we loved each other, I think hewould have exulted in separating us. We often planned together how we couldget to the north. But, as William remarked, such things are easier saidthan done. My movements were very closely watched, and we had no means ofgetting any money to defray our expenses. As for grandmother, she wasstrongly opposed to her children's undertaking any such project. She hadnot forgotten poor Benjamin's sufferings, and she was afraid that ifanother child tried to escape, he would have a similar or a worse fate. Tome, nothing seemed more dreadful than my present life. I said to myself, "William _must_ be free. He shall go to the north, and I will follow him. "Many a slave sister has formed the same plans. 

VIII. What Slaves Are Taught To Think Of The North. 

Slaveholders pride themselves upon being honorable men; but if you were tohear the enormous lies they tell their slaves, you would have small respectfor their veracity. I have spoken plain English. Pardon me. I cannot use amilder term. When they visit the north, and return home, they tell theirslaves of the runaways they have seen, and describe them to be in the mostdeplorable condition. A slaveholder once told me that he had seen a runawayfriend of mine in New York, and that she besought him to take her back toher master, for she was literally dying of starvation; that many days shehad only one cold potato to eat, and at other times could get nothing atall. He said he refused to take her, because he knew her master would notthank him for bringing such a miserable wretch to his house. He ended bysaying to me, "This is the punishment she brought on herself for runningaway from a kind master. "

This whole story was false. I afterwards staid with that friend in NewYork, and found her in comfortable circumstances. She had never thought ofsuch a thing as wishing to go back to slavery. Many of the slaves believesuch stories, and think it is not worth while to exchange slavery for sucha hard kind of freedom. It is difficult to persuade such that freedom couldmake them useful men, and enable them to protect their wives and children. If those heathen in our Christian land had as much teaching as someHindoos, they would think otherwise. They would know that liberty is morevaluable than life. They would begin to understand their own capabilities, and exert themselves to become men and women. 

But while the Free States sustain a law which hurls fugitives back intoslavery, how can the slaves resolve to become men? There are some whostrive to protect wives and daughters from the insults of their masters;but those who have such sentiments have had advantages above the generalmass of slaves. They have been partially civilized and Christianized byfavorable circumstances. Some are bold enough to _utter_ such sentiments totheir masters. O, that there were more of them!

Some poor creatures have been so brutalized by the lash that they willsneak out of the way to give their masters free access to their wives anddaughters. Do you think this proves the black man to belong to an inferiororder of beings? What would _you_ be, if you had been born and brought up aslave, with generations of slaves for ancestors? I admit that the black man_is_ inferior. But what is it that makes him so? It is the ignorance inwhich white men compel him to live; it is the torturing whip that lashesmanhood out of him; it is the fierce bloodhounds of the South, and thescarcely less cruel human bloodhounds of the north, who enforce theFugitive Slave Law. _They_ do the work. 

Southern gentlemen indulge in the most contemptuous expressions about theYankees, while they, on their part, consent to do the vilest work for them, such as the ferocious bloodhounds and the despised negro-hunters areemployed to do at home. When southerners go to the north, they are proud todo them honor; but the northern man is not welcome south of Mason andDixon's line, unless he suppresses every thought and feeling at variancewith their "peculiar institution. " Nor is it enough to be silent. Themasters are not pleased, unless they obtain a greater degree ofsubservience than that; and they are generally accommodated. Do theyrespect the northerner for this? I trow not. Even the slaves despise "anorthern man with southern principles;" and that is the class theygenerally see. When northerners go to the south to reside, they prove veryapt scholars. They soon imbibe the sentiments and disposition of theirneighbors, and generally go beyond their teachers. Of the two, they areproverbially the hardest masters. 

They seem to satisfy their consciences with the doctrine that God createdthe Africans to be slaves. What a libel upon the heavenly Father, who "madeof one blood all nations of men!" And then who _are_ Africans? Who canmeasure the amount of Anglo-Saxon blood coursing in the veins of Americanslaves?

I have spoken of the pains slaveholders take to give their slaves a badopinion of the north; but, notwithstanding this, intelligent slaves areaware that they have many friends in the Free States. Even the mostignorant have some confused notions about it. They knew that I could read;and I was often asked if I had seen any thing in the newspapers about whitefolks over in the big north, who were trying to get their freedom for them. Some believe that the abolitionists have already made them free, and thatit is established by law, but that their masters prevent the law from goinginto effect. One woman begged me to get a newspaper and read it over. Shesaid her husband told her that the black people had sent word to the queenof 'Merica that they were all slaves; that she didn't believe it, and wentto Washington city to see the president about it. They quarrelled; she drewher sword upon him, and swore that he should help her to make them allfree. 

That poor, ignorant woman thought that America was governed by a Queen, towhom the President was subordinate. I wish the President was subordinate toQueen Justice. 

IX. Sketches Of Neighboring Slaveholders. 

There was a planter in the country, not far from us, whom I will call Mr. Litch. He was an ill-bred, uneducated man, but very wealthy. He had sixhundred slaves, many of whom he did not know by sight. His extensiveplantation was managed by well-paid overseers. There was a jail and awhipping post on his grounds; and whatever cruelties were perpetratedthere, they passed without comment. He was so effectually screened by hisgreat wealth that he was called to no account for his crimes, not even formurder. 

Various were the punishments resorted to. A favorite one was to tie a roperound a man's body, and suspend him from the ground. A fire was kindledover him, from which was suspended a piece of fat pork. As this cooked, thescalding drops of fat continually fell on the bare flesh. On his ownplantation, he required very strict obedience to the eighth commandment. But depredations on the neighbors were allowable, provided the culpritmanaged to evade detection or suspicion. If a neighbor brought a charge oftheft against any of his slaves, he was browbeaten by the master, whoassured him that his slaves had enough of every thing at home, and had noinducement to steal. No sooner was the neighbor's back turned, than theaccused was sought out, and whipped for his lack of discretion. If a slavestole from him even a pound of meat or a peck of corn, if detectionfollowed, he was put in chains and imprisoned, and so kept till his formwas attentuated by hunger and suffering. 

A freshnet once bore his wine cellar and meat house miles away from theplantation. Some slaves followed, and secured bits of meat and bottles ofwine. Two were detected; a ham and some liquor being found in their huts. They were summoned by their master. No words were used, but a club felledthem to the ground. A rough box was their coffin, and their interment was adog's burial. Nothing was said. 

Murder was so common on his plantation that he feared to be alone afternightfall. He might have believed in ghosts. 

His brother, if not equal in wealth, was at least equal in cruelty. Hisbloodhounds were well trained. Their pen was spacious, and a terror to theslaves. They were let loose on a runway, and, if they tracked him, theyliterally tore the flesh from his bones. When this slaveholder died, hisshrieks and groans were so frightful that they appalled his own friends. His last words were, "I am going to hell; bury my money with me. "

After death his eyes remained open. To press the lids down, silver dollarswere laid on them. These were buried with him. From this circumstance, arumor went abroad that his coffin was filled with money. Three times hisgrave was opened, and his coffin taken out. The last time, his body wasfound on the ground, and a flock of buzzards were pecking at it. He wasagain interred, and a sentinel set over his grave. The perpetrators werenever discovered. 

Cruelty is contagious in uncivilized communities. Mr. Conant, a neighbor ofMr. Litch, returned from town one evening in a partial state ofintoxication. His body servant gave him some offence. He was divested ofhis clothes, except his shirt, whipped, and tied to a large tree in frontof the house. It was a stormy night in winter. The wind blew bitterly cold, and the boughs of the old tree crackled under falling sleet. A member ofthe family, fearing he would freeze to death, begged that he might be takendown; but the master would not relent. He remained there three hours; and, when he was cut down, he was more dead than alive. Another slave, who stolea pig from this master, to appease his hunger, was terribly flogged. Indesperation, he tried to run away. But at the end of two miles, he was sofaint with loss of blood, he thought he was dying. He had a wife, and helonged to see her once more. Too sick to walk, he crept back that longdistance on his hands and knees. When he reached his master's, it wasnight. He had not strength to rise and open the gate. He moaned, and triedto call for help. I had a friend living in the same family. At last his cryreached her. She went out and found the prostrate man at the gate. She ranback to the house for assistance, and two men returned with her. Theycarried him in, and laid him on the floor. The back of his shirt was oneclot of blood. By means of lard, my friend loosened it from the raw flesh. She bandaged him, gave him cool drink, and left him to rest. The mastersaid he deserved a hundred more lashes. When his own labor was stolen fromhim, he had stolen food to appease his hunger. This was his crime. 

Another neighbor was a Mrs. Wade. At no hour of the day was there cessationof the lash on her premises. Her labors began with the dawn, and did notcease till long after nightfall. The barn was her particular place oftorture. There she lashed the slaves with the might of a man. An old slaveof hers once said to me, "It is hell in missis's house. 'Pears I can neverget out. Day and night I prays to die. "

The mistress died before the old woman, and, when dying, entreated herhusband not to permit any one of her slaves to look on her after death. Aslave who had nursed her children, and had still a child in her care, watched her chance, and stole with it in her arms to the room where lay herdead mistress. She gazed a while on her, then raised her hand and dealt twoblows on her face, saying, as she did so, "The devil is got you _now_!" Sheforgot that the child was looking on. She had just begun to talk; and shesaid to her father, "I did see ma, and mammy did strike ma, so, " strikingher own face with her little hand. The master was startled. He could notimagine how the nurse could obtain access to the room where the corpse lay;for he kept the door locked. He questioned her. She confessed that what thechild had said was true, and told how she had procured the key. She wassold to Georgia. 

In my childhood I knew a valuable slave, named Charity, and loved her, asall children did. Her young mistress married, and took her to Louisiana. Her little boy, James, was sold to a good sort of master. He becameinvolved in debt, and James was sold again to a wealthy slaveholder, notedfor his cruelty. With this man he grew up to manhood, receiving thetreatment of a dog. After a severe whipping, to save himself from furtherinfliction of the lash, with which he was threatened, he took to the woods. He was in a most miserable condition--cut by the cowskin, half naked, halfstarved, and without the means of procuring a crust of bread. 

Some weeks after his escape, he was captured, tied, and carried back to hismaster's plantation. This man considered punishment in his jail, on breadand water, after receiving hundreds of lashes, too mild for the poorslave's offence. Therefore he decided, after the overseer should havewhipped him to his satisfaction, to have him placed between the screws ofthe cotton gin, to stay as long as he had been in the woods. This wretchedcreature was cut with the whip from his head to his feet, then washed withstrong brine, to prevent the flesh from mortifying, and make it heal soonerthan it otherwise would. He was then put into the cotton gin, which wasscrewed down, only allowing him room to turn on his side when he could notlie on his back. Every morning a slave was sent with a piece of bread andbowl of water, which was placed within reach of the poor fellow. The slavewas charged, under penalty of severe punishment, not to speak to him. 

Four days passed, and the slave continued to carry the bread and water. Onthe second morning, he found the bread gone, but the water untouched. Whenhe had been in the press four days and five night, the slave informed hismaster that the water had not been used for four mornings, and thathorrible stench came from the gin house. The overseer was sent to examineinto it. When the press was unscrewed, the dead body was found partly eatenby rats and vermin. Perhaps the rats that devoured his bread had gnawed himbefore life was extinct. Poor Charity! Grandmother and I often asked eachother how her affectionate heart would bear the news, if she should everhear of the murder of her son. We had known her husband, and knew thatJames was like him in manliness and intelligence. These were the qualitiesthat made it so hard for him to be a plantation slave. They put him into arough box, and buried him with less feeling than would have been manifestedfor an old house dog. Nobody asked any questions. He was a slave; and thefeeling was that the master had a right to do what he pleased with his ownproperty. And what did _he_ care for the value of a slave? He had hundredsof them. When they had finished their daily toil, they must hurry to eattheir little morsels, and be ready to extinguish their pine knots beforenine o'clock, when the overseer went his patrol rounds. He entered everycabin, to see that men and their wives had gone to bed together, lest themen, from over-fatigue, should fall asleep in the chimney corner, andremain there till the morning horn called them to their daily task. Womenare considered of no value, unless they continually increase their owner'sstock. They are put on a par with animals. This same master shot a womanthrough the head, who had run away and been brought back to him. No onecalled him to account for it. If a slave resisted being whipped, thebloodhounds were unpacked, and set upon him, to tear his flesh from hisbones. The master who did these things was highly educated, and styled aperfect gentleman. He also boasted the name and standing of a Christian, though Satan never had a truer follower. 

I could tell of more slaveholders as cruel as those I have described. Theyare not exceptions to the general rule. I do not say there are no humaneslaveholders. Such characters do exist, notwithstanding the hardeninginfluences around them. But they are "like angels' visits--few and farbetween. "

I knew a young lady who was one of these rare specimens. She was an orphan, and inherited as slaves a woman and her six children. Their father was afree man. They had a comfortable home of their own, parents and childrenliving together. The mother and eldest daughter served their mistressduring the day, and at night returned to their dwelling, which was on thepremises. The young lady was very pious, and there was some reality in herreligion. She taught her slaves to lead pure lives, and wished them toenjoy the fruit of their own industry. _Her_ religion was not a garb put onfor Sunday, and laid aside till Sunday returned again. The eldest daughterof the slave mother was promised in marriage to a free man; and the daybefore the wedding this good mistress emancipated her, in order that hermarriage might have the sanction of _law_. 

Report said that this young lady cherished an unrequited affection for aman who had resolved to marry for wealth. In the course of time a richuncle of hers died. He left six thousand dollars to his two sons by acolored woman, and the remainder of his property to this orphan niece. Themetal soon attracted the magnet. The lady and her weighty purse became his. She offered to manumit her slaves--telling them that her marriage mightmake unexpected changes in their destiny, and she wished to insure theirhappiness. They refused to take their freedom, saying that she had alwaysbeen their best friend, and they could not be so happy any where as withher. I was not surprised. I had often seen them in their comfortable home, and thought that the whole town did not contain a happier family. They hadnever felt slavery; and, when it was too late, they were convinced of itsreality. 

When the new master claimed this family as his property, the father becamefurious, and went to his mistress for protection. "I can do nothing for younow, Harry, " said she. "I no longer have the power I had a week ago. I havesucceeded in obtaining the freedom of your wife; but I cannot obtain it foryour children. " The unhappy father swore that nobody should take hischildren from him. He concealed them in the woods for some days; but theywere discovered and taken. The father was put in jail, and the two oldestboys sold to Georgia. One little girl, too young to be of service to hermaster, was left with the wretched mother. The other three were carried totheir master's plantation. The eldest soon became a mother; and when theslaveholder's wife looked at the babe, she wept bitterly. She knew that herown husband had violated the purity she had so carefully inculcated. Shehad a second child by her master, and then he sold her and his offspring tohis brother. She bore two children to the brother and was sold again. Thenext sister went crazy. The life she was compelled to lead drove her mad. The third one became the mother of five daughters. Before the birth of thefourth the pious mistress died. To the last, she rendered every kindness tothe slaves that her unfortunate circumstances permitted. She passed awaypeacefully, glad to close her eyes on a life which had been made sowretched by the man she loved. 

This man squandered the fortune he had received, and sought to retrieve hisaffairs by a second marriage; but, having retired after a night of drunkendebauch, he was found dead in the morning. He was called a good master; forhe fed and clothed his slaves better than most masters, and the lash wasnot heard on his plantation so frequently as on many others. Had it notbeen for slavery, he would have been a better man, and his wife a happierwoman. 

No pen can give an adequate description of the all-pervading corruptionproduced by slavery. The slave girl is reared in an atmosphere oflicentiousness and fear. The lash and the foul talk of her master and hissons are her teachers. When she is fourteen or fifteen, her owner, or hissons, or the overseer, or perhaps all of them, begin to bribe her withpresents. If these fail to accomplish their purpose, she is whipped orstarved into submission to their will. She may have had religiousprinciples inculcated by some pious mother or grandmother, or some goodmistress; she may have a lover, whose good opinion and peace of mind aredear to her heart; or the profligate men who have power over her may beexceedingly odious to her. But resistance is hopeless. 

 The poor worm Shall prove her contest vain. Life's little day Shall pass, and she is gone!

The slaveholder's sons are, of course, vitiated, even while boys, by theunclean influences every where around them. Nor do the master's daughtersalways escape. Severe retributions sometimes come upon him for the wrongshe does to the daughters of the slaves. The white daughters early heartheir parents quarrelling about some female slave. Their curiosity isexcited, and they soon learn the cause. They are attended by the youngslave girls whom their father has corrupted; and they hear such talk asshould never meet youthful ears, or any other ears. They know that thewoman slaves are subject to their father's authority in all things; and insome cases they exercise the same authority over the men slaves. I havemyself seen the master of such a household whose head was bowed down inshame; for it was known in the neighborhood that his daughter had selectedone of the meanest slaves on his plantation to be the father of his firstgrandchild. She did not make her advances to her equals, nor even to herfather's more intelligent servants. She selected the most brutalized, overwhom her authority could be exercised with less fear of exposure. Herfather, half frantic with rage, sought to revenge himself on the offendingblack man; but his daughter, foreseeing the storm that would arise, hadgiven him free papers, and sent him out of the state. 

In such cases the infant is smothered, or sent where it is never seen byany who know its history. But if the white parent is the _father_, insteadof the mother, the offspring are unblushingly reared for the market. Ifthey are girls, I have indicated plainly enough what will be theirinevitable destiny. 

You may believe what I say; for I write only that whereof I know. I wastwenty-one years in that cage of obscene birds. I can testify, from my ownexperience and observation, that slavery is a curse to the whites as wellas to the blacks. It makes white fathers cruel and sensual; the sonsviolent and licentious; it contaminates the daughters, and makes the wiveswretched. And as for the colored race, it needs an abler pen than mine todescribe the extremity of their sufferings, the depth of their degradation. 

Yet few slaveholders seem to be aware of the widespread moral ruinoccasioned by this wicked system. Their talk is of blighted cottoncrops--not of the blight on their children's souls. 

If you want to be fully convinced of the abominations of slavery, go on asouthern plantation, and call yourself a negro trader. Then there will beno concealment; and you will see and hear things that will seem to youimpossible among human beings with immortal souls. 

X. A Perilous Passage In The Slave Girl's Life. 

After my lover went away, Dr. Flint contrived a new plan. He seemed to havean idea that my fear of my mistress was his greatest obstacle. In theblandest tones, he told me that he was going to build a small house for me, in a secluded place, four miles away from the town. I shuddered; but I wasconstrained to listen, while he talked of his intention to give me a homeof my own, and to make a lady of me. Hitherto, I had escaped my dreadedfate, by being in the midst of people. My grandmother had already had highwords with my master about me. She had told him pretty plainly what shethought of his character, and there was considerable gossip in theneighborhood about our affairs, to which the open-mouthed jealousy of Mrs. Flint contributed not a little. When my master said he was going to build ahouse for me, and that he could do it with little trouble and expense, Iwas in hopes something would happen to frustrate his scheme; but I soonheard that the house was actually begun. I vowed before my Maker that Iwould never enter it: I had rather toil on the plantation from dawn tilldark; I had rather live and die in jail, than drag on, from day to day, through such a living death. I was determined that the master, whom I sohated and loathed, who had blighted the prospects of my youth, and made mylife a desert, should not, after my long struggle with him, succeed at lastin trampling his victim under his feet. I would do any thing, every thing, for the sake of defeating him. What _could_ I do? I thought and thought, till I became desperate, and made a plunge into the abyss. 

And now, reader, I come to a period in my unhappy life, which I wouldgladly forget if I could. The remembrance fills me with sorrow and shame. It pains me to tell you of it; but I have promised to tell you the truth, and I will do it honestly, let it cost me what it may. I will not try toscreen myself behind the plea of compulsion from a master; for it was notso. Neither can I plead ignorance or thoughtlessness. For years, my masterhad done his utmost to pollute my mind with foul images, and to destroy thepure principles inculcated by my grandmother, and the good mistress of mychildhood. The influences of slavery had had the same effect on me thatthey had on other young girls; they had made me prematurely knowing, concerning the evil ways of the world. I knew what I did, and I did it withdeliberate calculation. 

But, O, ye happy women, whose purity has been sheltered from childhood, whohave been free to choose the objects of your affection, whose homes areprotected by law, do not judge the poor desolate slave girl too severely!If slavery had been abolished, I, also, could have married the man of mychoice; I could have had a home shielded by the laws; and I should havebeen spared the painful task of confessing what I am now about to relate;but all my prospects had been blighted by slavery. I wanted to keep myselfpure; and, under the most adverse circumstances, I tried hard to preservemy self-respect; but I was struggling alone in the powerful grasp of thedemon Slavery; and the monster proved too strong for me. I felt as if I wasforsaken by God and man; as if all my efforts must be frustrated; and Ibecame reckless in my despair. 

I have told you that Dr. Flint's persecutions and his wife's jealousy hadgiven rise to some gossip in the neighborhood. Among others, it chancedthat a white unmarried gentleman had obtained some knowledge of thecircumstances in which I was placed. He knew my grandmother, and oftenspoke to me in the street. He became interested for me, and asked questionsabout my master, which I answered in part. He expressed a great deal ofsympathy, and a wish to aid me. He constantly sought opportunities to seeme, and wrote to me frequently. I was a poor slave girl, only fifteen yearsold. 

So much attention from a superior person was, of course, flattering; forhuman nature is the same in all. I also felt grateful for his sympathy, andencouraged by his kind words. It seemed to me a great thing to have such afriend. By degrees, a more tender feeling crept into my heart. He was aneducated and eloquent gentleman; too eloquent, alas, for the poor slavegirl who trusted in him. Of course I saw whither all this was tending. Iknew the impassable gulf between us; but to be an object of interest to aman who is not married, and who is not her master, is agreeable to thepride and feelings of a slave, if her miserable situation has left her anypride or sentiment. It seems less degrading to give one's self, than tosubmit to compulsion. There is something akin to freedom in having a loverwho has no control over you, except that which he gains by kindness andattachment. A master may treat you as rudely as he pleases, and you darenot speak; moreover, the wrong does not seem so great with an unmarriedman, as with one who has a wife to be made unhappy. There may be sophistryin all this; but the condition of a slave confuses all principles ofmorality, and, in fact, renders the practice of them impossible. 

When I found that my master had actually begun to build the lonely cottage, other feelings mixed with those I have described. Revenge, and calculationsof interest, were added to flattered vanity and sincere gratitude forkindness. I knew nothing would enrage Dr. Flint so much as to know that Ifavored another, and it was something to triumph over my tyrant even inthat small way. I thought he would revenge himself by selling me, and I wassure my friend, Mr. Sands, would buy me. He was a man of more generosityand feeling than my master, and I thought my freedom could be easilyobtained from him. The crisis of my fate now came so near that I wasdesperate. I shuddered to think of being the mother of children that shouldbe owned by my old tyrant. I knew that as soon as a new fancy took him, hisvictims were sold far off to get rid of them; especially if they hadchildren. I had seen several women sold, with babies at the breast. Henever allowed his offspring by slaves to remain long in sight of himselfand his wife. Of a man who was not my master I could ask to have mychildren well supported; and in this case, I felt confident I should obtainthe boon. I also felt quite sure that they would be made free. With allthese thoughts revolving in my mind, and seeing no other way of escapingthe doom I so much dreaded, I made a headlong plunge. Pity me, and pardonme, O virtuous reader! You never knew what it is to be a slave; to beentirely unprotected by law or custom; to have the laws reduce you to thecondition of a chattel, entirely subject to the will of another. You neverexhausted your ingenuity in avoiding the snares, and eluding the power of ahated tyrant; you never shuddered at the sound of his footsteps, andtrembled within hearing of his voice. I know I did wrong. No one can feelit more sensibly than I do. The painful and humiliating memory will hauntme to my dying day. Still, in looking back, calmly, on the events of mylife, I feel that the slave woman ought not to be judged by the samestandard as others. 

The months passed on. I had many unhappy hours. I secretly mourned over thesorrow I was bringing on my grandmother, who had so tried to shield me fromharm. I knew that I was the greatest comfort of her old age, and that itwas a source of pride to her that I had not degraded myself, like most ofthe slaves. I wanted to confess to her that I was no longer worthy of herlove; but I could not utter the dreaded words. 

As for Dr. Flint, I had a feeling of satisfaction and triumph in thethought of telling _him_. From time to time he told me of his intendedarrangements, and I was silent. At last, he came and told me the cottagewas completed, and ordered me to go to it. I told him I would never enterit. He said, "I have heard enough of such talk as that. You shall go, ifyou are carried by force; and you shall remain there. "

I replied, "I will never go there. In a few months I shall be a mother. "

He stood and looked at me in dumb amazement, and left the house without aword. I thought I should be happy in my triumph over him. But now that thetruth was out, and my relatives would hear of it, I felt wretched. Humbleas were their circumstances, they had pride in my good character. Now, howcould I look at them in the face? My self-respect was gone! I had resolvedthat I would be virtuous, though I was a slave. I had said, "Let the stormbeat! I will brave it till I die. " And now, how humiliated I felt!

I went to my grandmother. My lips moved to make confession, but the wordsstuck in my throat. I sat down in the shade of a tree at her door and beganto sew. I think she saw something unusual was the matter with me. Themother of slaves is very watchful. She knows there is no security for herchildren. After they have entered their teens she lives in dailyexpectation of trouble. This leads to many questions. If the girl is of asensitive nature, timidity keeps her from answering truthfully, and thiswell-meant course has a tendency to drive her from maternal counsels. Presently, in came my mistress, like a mad woman, and accused me concerningher husband. My grandmother, whose suspicions had been previously awakened, believed what she said. She exclaimed, "O Linda! Has it come to this? I hadrather see you dead than to see you as you now are. You are a disgrace toyour dead mother. " She tore from my fingers my mother's wedding ring andher silver thimble. "Go away!" she exclaimed, "and never come to my house, again. " Her reproaches fell so hot and heavy, that they left me no chanceto answer. Bitter tears, such as the eyes never shed but once, were my onlyanswer. I rose from my seat, but fell back again, sobbing. She did notspeak to me; but the tears were running down her furrowed cheeks, and theyscorched me like fire. She had always been so kind to me! _So_ kind! How Ilonged to throw myself at her feet, and tell her all the truth! But she hadordered me to go, and never to come there again. After a few minutes, Imustered strength, and started to obey her. With what feelings did I nowclose that little gate, which I used to open with such an eager hand in mychildhood! It closed upon me with a sound I never heard before. 

Where could I go? I was afraid to return to my master's. I walked onrecklessly, not caring where I went, or what would become of me. When I hadgone four or five miles, fatigue compelled me to stop. I sat down on thestump of an old tree. The stars were shining through the boughs above me. How they mocked me, with their bright, calm light! The hours passed by, andas I sat there alone a chilliness and deadly sickness came over me. I sankon the ground. My mind was full of horrid thoughts. I prayed to die; butthe prayer was not answered. At last, with great effort I roused myself, and walked some distance further, to the house of a woman who had been afriend of my mother. When I told her why I was there, she spoke soothinglyto me; but I could not be comforted. I thought I could bear my shame if Icould only be reconciled to my grandmother. I longed to open my heart toher. I thought if she could know the real state of the case, and all I hadbeen bearing for years, she would perhaps judge me less harshly. My friendadvised me to send for her. I did so; but days of agonizing suspense passedbefore she came. Had she utterly forsaken me? No. She came at last. I kneltbefore her, and told her the things that had poisoned my life; how long Ihad been persecuted; that I saw no way of escape; and in an hour ofextremity I had become desperate. She listened in silence. I told her Iwould bear any thing and do any thing, if in time I had hopes of obtainingher forgiveness. I begged of her to pity me, for my dead mother's sake. Andshe did pity me. She did not say, "I forgive you;" but she looked at melovingly, with her eyes full of tears. She laid her old hand gently on myhead, and murmured, "Poor child! Poor child!"

XI. The New Tie To Life. 

I returned to my good grandmother's house. She had an interview with Mr. Sands. When she asked him why he could not have left her one ewelamb, --whether there were not plenty of slaves who did not care aboutcharacter, --he made no answer, but he spoke kind and encouraging words. Hepromised to care for my child, and to buy me, be the conditions what theymight. 

I had not seen Dr. Flint for five days. I had never seen him since I madethe avowal to him. He talked of the disgrace I had brought on myself; how Ihad sinned against my master, and mortified my old grandmother. Heintimated that if I had accepted his proposals, he, as a physician, couldhave saved me from exposure. He even condescended to pity me. Could he haveoffered wormwood more bitter? He, whose persecutions had been the cause ofmy sin!

"Linda, " said he, "though you have been criminal towards me, I feel foryou, and I can pardon you if you obey my wishes. Tell me whether the fellowyou wanted to marry is the father of your child. If you deceive me, youshall feel the fires of hell. "

I did not feel as proud as I had done. My strongest weapon with him wasgone. I was lowered in my own estimation, and had resolved to bear hisabuse in silence. But when he spoke contemptuously of the lover who hadalways treated me honorably; when I remembered that but for _him_ I mighthave been a virtuous, free, and happy wife, I lost my patience. "I havesinned against God and myself, " I replied; "but not against you. "

He clinched his teeth, and muttered, "Curse you!" He came towards me, withill-suppressed rage, and exclaimed, "You obstinate girl! I could grind yourbones to powder! You have thrown yourself away on some worthless rascal. You are weak-minded, and have been easily persuaded by those who don't carea straw for you. The future will settle accounts between us. You areblinded now; but hereafter you will be convinced that your master was yourbest friend. My lenity towards you is a proof of it. I might have punishedyou in many ways. I might have whipped till you fell dead under the lash. But I wanted you to live; I would have bettered your condition. Otherscannot do it. You are my slave. Your mistress, disgusted by your conduct, forbids you to return to the house; therefore I leave you here for thepresent; but I shall see you often. I will call to-morrow. "

He came with frowning brows, that showed a dissatisfied state of mind. After asking about my health, he inquired whether my board was paid, andwho visited me. He then went on to say that he had neglected his duty; thatas a physician there were certain things that he ought to have explained tome. Then followed talk such as would have made the most shameless blush. Heordered me to stand up before him. I obeyed. "I command you, " said he, "totell me whether the father of your child is white or black. " I hesitated. "Answer me this instant!" he exclaimed. I did answer. He sprang upon melike a wolf, and grabbed my arm as if he would have broken it. "Do you lovehim?" said he, in a hissing tone. 

"I am thankful that I do not despise him, " I replied. 

He raised his hand to strike me; but it fell again. I don't know whatarrested the blow. He sat down, with lips tightly compressed. At last hespoke. "I came here, " said he, "to make you a friendly proposition; butyour ingratitude chafes me beyond endurance. You turn aside all my goodintentions towards you. I don't know what it is that keeps me from killingyou. " Again he rose, as if he had a mind to strike me. 

But he resumed. "On one condition I will forgive your insolence and crime. You must henceforth have no communication of any kind with the father ofyour child. You must not ask any thing from him, or receive any thing fromhim. I will take care of you and your child. You had better promise this atonce, and not wait till you are deserted by him. This is the last act ofmercy I shall show towards you. "

I said something about being unwilling to have my child supported by a manwho had cursed it and me also. He rejoined, that a woman who had sunk to mylevel had no right to expect any thing else. He asked, for the last time, would I accept his kindness? I answered that I would not. 

"Very well, " said he; "then take the consequences of your wayward course. Never look to me for help. You are my slave, and shall always be my slave. I will never sell you, that you may depend upon. "

Hope died away in my heart as he closed the door after him. I hadcalculated that in his rage he would sell me to a slave-trader; and I knewthe father of my child was on the watch to buy me. 

About this time my uncle Phillip was expected to return from a voyage. Theday before his departure I had officiated as bridesmaid to a young friend. My heart was then ill at ease, but my smiling countenance did not betrayit. Only a year had passed; but what fearful changes it had wrought! Myheart had grown gray in misery. Lives that flash in sunshine, and livesthat are born in tears, receive their hue from circumstances. None of usknow what a year may bring forth. 

I felt no joy when they told me my uncle had come. He wanted to see me, though he knew what had happened. I shrank from him at first; but at lastconsented that he should come to my room. He received me as he always haddone. O, how my heart smote me when I felt his tears on my burning cheeks!The words of my grandmother came to my mind, --"Perhaps your mother andfather are taken from the evil days to come. " My disappointed heart couldnow praise God that it was so. But why, thought I, did my relatives evercherish hopes for me? What was there to save me from the usual fate ofslave girls? Many more beautiful and more intelligent than I hadexperienced a similar fate, or a far worse one. How could they hope that Ishould escape?

My uncle's stay was short, and I was not sorry for it. I was too ill inmind and body to enjoy my friends as I had done. For some weeks I wasunable to leave my bed. I could not have any doctor but my master, and Iwould not have him sent for. At last, alarmed by my increasing illness, they sent for him. I was very weak and nervous; and as soon as he enteredthe room, I began to scream. They told him my state was very critical. Hehad no wish to hasten me out of the world, and he withdrew. 

When my babe was born, they said it was premature. It weighed only fourpounds; but God let it live. I heard the doctor say I could not survivetill morning. I had often prayed for death; but now I did not want to die, unless my child could die too. Many weeks passed before I was able to leavemy bed. I was a mere wreck of my former self. For a year there was scarcelya day when I was free from chills and fever. My babe also was sickly. Hislittle limbs were often racked with pain. Dr. Flint continued his visits, to look after my health; and he did not fail to remind me that my child wasan addition to his stock of slaves. 

I felt too feeble to dispute with him, and listened to his remarks insilence. His visits were less frequent; but his busy spirit could notremain quiet. He employed my brother in his office; and he was made themedium of frequent notes and messages to me. William was a bright lad, andof much use to the doctor. He had learned to put up medicines, to leech, cup, and bleed. He had taught himself to read and spell. I was proud of mybrother, and the old doctor suspected as much. One day, when I had not seenhim for several weeks, I heard his steps approaching the door. I dreadedthe encounter, and hid myself. He inquired for me, of course; but I wasnowhere to be found. He went to his office, and despatched William with anote. The color mounted to my brother's face when he gave it to me; and hesaid, "Don't you hate me, Linda, for bringing you these things?" I told himI could not blame him; he was a slave, and obliged to obey his master'swill. The note ordered me to come to his office. I went. He demanded toknow where I was when he called. I told him I was at home. He flew into apassion, and said he knew better. Then he launched out upon his usualthemes, --my crimes against him, and my ingratitude for his forbearance. Thelaws were laid down to me anew, and I was dismissed. I felt humiliated thatmy brother should stand by, and listen to such language as would beaddressed only to a slave. Poor boy! He was powerless to defend me; but Isaw the tears, which he vainly strove to keep back. The manifestation offeeling irritated the doctor. William could do nothing to please him. Onemorning he did not arrive at the office so early as usual; and thatcircumstance afforded his master an opportunity to vent his spleen. He wasput in jail. The next day my brother sent a trader to the doctor, with arequest to be sold. His master was greatly incensed at what he called hisinsolence. He said he had put him there, to reflect upon his bad conduct, and he certainly was not giving any evidence of repentance. For two days heharassed himself to find somebody to do his office work; but every thingwent wrong without William. He was released, and ordered to take his oldstand, with many threats, if he was not careful about his future behavior. 

As the months passed on, my boy improved in health. When he was a year old, they called him beautiful. The little vine was taking deep root in myexistence, though its clinging fondness excited a mixture of love and pain. When I was most sorely oppressed I found a solace in his smiles. I loved towatch his infant slumbers; but always there was a dark cloud over myenjoyment. I could never forget that he was a slave. Sometimes I wishedthat he might die in infancy. God tried me. My darling became very ill. Thebright eyes grew dull, and the little feet and hands were so icy cold thatI thought death had already touched them. I had prayed for his death, butnever so earnestly as I now prayed for his life; and my prayer was heard. Alas, what mockery it is for a slave mother to try to pray back her dyingchild to life! Death is better than slavery. It was a sad thought that Ihad no name to give my child. His father caressed him and treated himkindly, whenever he had a chance to see him. He was not unwilling that heshould bear his name; but he had no legal claim to it; and if I hadbestowed it upon him, my master would have regarded it as a new crime, anew piece of insolence, and would, perhaps, revenge it on the boy. O, theserpent of Slavery has many and poisonous fangs!

XII. Fear Of Insurrection. 

Not far from this time Nat Turner's insurrection broke out; and the newsthrew our town into great commotion. Strange that they should be alarmed, when their slaves were so "contented and happy"! But so it was. 

It was always the custom to have a muster every year. On that occasionevery white man shouldered his musket. The citizens and the so-calledcountry gentlemen wore military uniforms. The poor whites took their placesin the ranks in every-day dress, some without shoes, some without hats. This grand occasion had already passed; and when the slaves were told therewas to be another muster, they were surprised and rejoiced. Poor creatures!They thought it was going to be a holiday. I was informed of the true stateof affairs, and imparted it to the few I could trust. Most gladly would Ihave proclaimed it to every slave; but I dared not. All could not be reliedon. Mighty is the power of the torturing lash. 

By sunrise, people were pouring in from every quarter within twenty milesof the town. I knew the houses were to be searched; and I expected it wouldbe done by country bullies and the poor whites. I knew nothing annoyed themso much as to see colored people living in comfort and respectability; so Imade arrangements for them with especial care. I arranged every thing in mygrandmother's house as neatly as possible. I put white quilts on the beds, and decorated some of the rooms with flowers. When all was arranged, I satdown at the window to watch. Far as my eye could reach, it rested on amotley crowd of soldiers. Drums and fifes were discoursing martial music. The men were divided into companies of sixteen, each headed by a captain. Orders were given, and the wild scouts rushed in every direction, wherevera colored face was to be found. 

It was a grand opportunity for the low whites, who had no negroes of theirown to scourge. They exulted in such a chance to exercise a little briefauthority, and show their subserviency to the slaveholders; not reflectingthat the power which trampled on the colored people also kept themselves inpoverty, ignorance, and moral degradation. Those who never witnessed suchscenes can hardly believe what I know was inflicted at this time oninnocent men, women, and children, against whom there was not the slightestground for suspicion. Colored people and slaves who lived in remote partsof the town suffered in an especial manner. In some cases the searchersscattered powder and shot among their clothes, and then sent other partiesto find them, and bring them forward as proof that they were plottinginsurrection. Every where men, women, and children were whipped till theblood stood in puddles at their feet. Some received five hundred lashes;others were tied hands and feet, and tortured with a bucking paddle, whichblisters the skin terribly. The dwellings of the colored people, unlessthey happened to be protected by some influential white person, who wasnigh at hand, were robbed of clothing and every thing else the maraudersthought worth carrying away. All day long these unfeeling wretches wentround, like a troop of demons, terrifying and tormenting the helpless. Atnight, they formed themselves into patrol bands, and went wherever theychose among the colored people, acting out their brutal will. Many womenhid themselves in woods and swamps, to keep out of their way. If any of thehusbands or fathers told of these outrages, they were tied up to the publicwhipping post, and cruelly scourged for telling lies about white men. Theconsternation was universal. No two people that had the slightest tinge ofcolor in their faces dared to be seen talking together. 

I entertained no positive fears about our household, because we were in themidst of white families who would protect us. We were ready to receive thesoldiers whenever they came. It was not long before we heard the tramp offeet and the sound of voices. The door was rudely pushed open; and in theytumbled, like a pack of hungry wolves. They snatched at every thing withintheir reach. Every box, trunk, closet, and corner underwent a thoroughexamination. A box in one of the drawers containing some silver change waseagerly pounced upon. When I stepped forward to take it from them, one ofthe soldiers turned and said angrily, "What d'ye foller us fur? D'ye s'posewhite folks is come to steal?"

I replied, "You have come to search; but you have searched that box, and Iwill take it, if you please. "

At that moment I saw a white gentleman who was friendly to us; and I calledto him, and asked him to have the goodness to come in and stay till thesearch was over. He readily complied. His entrance into the house broughtin the captain of the company, whose business it was to guard the outsideof the house, and see that none of the inmates left it. This officer wasMr. Litch, the wealthy slaveholder whom I mentioned, in the account ofneighboring planters, as being notorious for his cruelty. He felt abovesoiling his hands with the search. He merely gave orders; and, if a bit ofwriting was discovered, it was carried to him by his ignorant followers, who were unable to read. 

My grandmother had a large trunk of bedding and table cloths. When that wasopened, there was a great shout of surprise; and one exclaimed, "Where'dthe damned niggers git all dis sheet an' table clarf?"

My grandmother, emboldened by the presence of our white protector said, "You may be sure we didn't pilfer 'em from _your_ houses. "

"Look here, mammy, " said a grim-looking fellow without any coat, "you seemto feel mighty gran' 'cause you got all them 'ere fixens. White folksoughter have 'em all. "

His remarks were interrupted by a chorus of voices shouting, "We's got 'em!We's got 'em! Dis 'ere yaller gal's got letters!"

There was a general rush for the supposed letter, which, upon examination, proved to be some verses written to me by a friend. In packing away mythings, I had overlooked them. When their captain informed them of theircontents, they seemed much disappointed. He inquired of me who wrote them. I told him it was one of my friends. "Can you read them?" he asked. When Itold him I could, he swore, and raved, and tore the paper into bits. "Bringme all your letters!" said he, in commanding tone. I told him I had none. "Don't be afraid, " he continued, in an insinuating way. "Bring them all tome. Nobody shall do you any harm. " Seeing I did not move to obey him, hispleasant tone changed to oaths and threats. "Who writes to you? half freeniggers?" inquired he. I replied, "O, no; most of my letters are from whitepeople. Some request me to burn them after they are read, and some Idestroy without reading. "

An exclamation of surprise from some of the company put a stop to ourconversation. Some silver spoons which ornamented an old-fashioned buffethad just been discovered. My grandmother was in the habit of preservingfruit for many ladies in the town, and of preparing suppers for parties;consequently she had many jars of preserves. The closet that containedthese was next invaded, and the contents tasted. One of them, who washelping himself freely, tapped his neighbor on the shoulder, and said, "Waldone! Don't wonder de niggers want to kill all de white folks, when deylive on 'sarves" [meaning preserves]. I stretched out my hand to take thejar, saying, "You were not sent here to search for sweetmeats. "

"And what _were_ we sent for?" said the captain, bristling up to me. Ievaded the question. 

The search of the house was completed, and nothing found to condemn us. They next proceeded to the garden, and knocked about every bush and vine, with no better success. The captain called his men together, and, after ashort consultation, the order to march was given. As they passed out of thegate, the captain turned back, and pronounced a malediction on the house. He said it ought to be burned to the ground, and each of its inmatesreceive thirty-nine lashes. We came out of this affair very fortunately;not losing any thing except some wearing apparel. 

Towards evening the turbulence increased. The soldiers, stimulated bydrink, committed still greater cruelties. Shrieks and shouts continuallyrent the air. Not daring to go to the door, I peeped under the windowcurtain. I saw a mob dragging along a number of colored people, each whiteman, with his musket upraised, threatening instant death if they did notstop their shrieks. Among the prisoners was a respectable old coloredminister. They had found a few parcels of shot in his house, which his wifehad for years used to balance her scales. For this they were going to shoothim on Court House Green. What a spectacle was that for a civilizedcountry! A rabble, staggering under intoxication, assuming to be theadministrators of justice!

The better class of the community exerted their influence to save theinnocent, persecuted people; and in several instances they succeeded, bykeeping them shut up in jail till the excitement abated. At last the whitecitizens found that their own property was not safe from the lawless rabblethey had summoned to protect them. They rallied the drunken swarm, drovethem back into the country, and set a guard over the town. 

The next day, the town patrols were commissioned to search colored peoplethat lived out of the city; and the most shocking outrages were committedwith perfect impunity. Every day for a fortnight, if I looked out, I sawhorsemen with some poor panting negro tied to their saddles, and compelledby the lash to keep up with their speed, till they arrived at the jailyard. Those who had been whipped too unmercifully to walk were washed withbrine, tossed into a cart, and carried to jail. One black man, who had notfortitude to endure scourging, promised to give information about theconspiracy. But it turned out that he knew nothing at all. He had not evenheard the name of Nat Turner. The poor fellow had, however, made up astory, which augmented his own sufferings and those of the colored people. 

The day patrol continued for some weeks, and at sundown a night guard wassubstituted. Nothing at all was proved against the colored people, bond orfree. The wrath of the slaveholders was somewhat appeased by the capture ofNat Turner. The imprisoned were released. The slaves were sent to theirmasters, and the free were permitted to return to their ravaged homes. Visiting was strictly forbidden on the plantations. The slaves begged theprivilege of again meeting at their little church in the woods, with theirburying ground around it. It was built by the colored people, and they hadno higher happiness than to meet there and sing hymns together, and pourout their hearts in spontaneous prayer. Their request was denied, and thechurch was demolished. They were permitted to attend the white churches, acertain portion of the galleries being appropriated to their use. There, when every body else had partaken of the communion, and the benediction hadbeen pronounced, the minister said, "Come down, now, my colored friends. "They obeyed the summons, and partook of the bread and wine, incommemoration of the meek and lowly Jesus, who said, "God is your Father, and all ye are brethren. "

XIII. The Church And Slavery. 

After the alarm caused by Nat Turner's insurrection had subsided, theslaveholders came to the conclusion that it would be well to give theslaves enough of religious instruction to keep them from murdering theirmasters. The Episcopal clergyman offered to hold a separate service onSundays for their benefit. His colored members were very few, and also veryrespectable--a fact which I presume had some weight with him. Thedifficulty was to decide on a suitable place for them to worship. TheMethodist and Baptist churches admitted them in the afternoon; but theircarpets and cushions were not so costly as those at the Episcopal church. It was at last decided that they should meet at the house of a free coloredman, who was a member. 

I was invited to attend, because I could read. Sunday evening came, and, trusting to the cover of night, I ventured out. I rarely ventured out bydaylight, for I always went with fear, expecting at every turn to encounterDr. Flint, who was sure to turn me back, or order me to his office toinquire where I got my bonnet, or some other article of dress. When theRev. Mr. Pike came, there were some twenty persons present. The reverendgentleman knelt in prayer, then seated himself, and requested all present, who could read, to open their books, while he gave out the portions hewished them to repeat or respond to. 

His text was, "Servants, be obedient to them that are your mastersaccording to the flesh, with fear and trembling, in singleness of yourheart, as unto Christ. "

Pious Mr. Pike brushed up his hair till it stood upright, and, in deep, solemn tones, began: "Hearken, ye servants! Give strict heed unto my words. You are rebellious sinners. Your hearts are filled with all manner of evil. 'Tis the devil who tempts you. God is angry with you, and will surelypunish you, if you don't forsake your wicked ways. You that live in townare eyeservants behind your master's back. Instead of serving your mastersfaithfully, which is pleasing in the sight of your heavenly Master, you areidle, and shirk your work. God sees you. You tell lies. God hears you. Instead of being engaged in worshipping him, you are hidden away somewhere, feasting on your master's substance; tossing coffee-grounds with somewicked fortuneteller, or cutting cards with another old hag. Your mastersmay not find you out, but God sees you, and will punish you. O, thedepravity of your hearts! When your master's work is done, are you quietlytogether, thinking of the goodness of God to such sinful creatures? No; youare quarrelling, and tying up little bags of roots to bury under thedoorsteps to poison each other with. God sees you. You men steal away toevery grog shop to sell your master's corn, that you may buy rum to drink. God sees you. You sneak into the back streets, or among the bushes, topitch coppers. Although your masters may not find you out, God sees you;and he will punish you. You must forsake your sinful ways, and be faithfulservants. Obey your old master and your young master--your old mistress andyour young mistress. If you disobey your earthly master, you offend yourheavenly Master. You must obey God's commandments. When you go from here, don't stop at the corners of the streets to talk, but go directly home, andlet your master and mistress see that you have come. "

The benediction was pronounced. We went home, highly amused at brotherPike's gospel teaching, and we determined to hear him again. I went thenext Sabbath evening, and heard pretty much a repetition of the lastdiscourse. At the close of the meeting, Mr. Pike informed us that he foundit very inconvenient to meet at the friend's house, and he should be gladto see us, every Sunday evening, at his own kitchen. 

I went home with the feeling that I had heard the Reverend Mr. Pike for thelast time. Some of his members repaired to his house, and found that thekitchen sported two tallow candles; the first time, I am sure, since itspresent occupant owned it, for the servants never had any thing but pineknots. It was so long before the reverend gentleman descended from hiscomfortable parlor that the slaves left, and went to enjoy a Methodistshout. They never seem so happy as when shouting and singing at religiousmeetings. Many of them are sincere, and nearer to the gate of heaven thansanctimonious Mr. Pike, and other long-faced Christians, who see woundedSamaritans, and pass by on the other side. 

The slaves generally compose their own songs and hymns; and they do nottrouble their heads much about the measure. They often sing the followingverses:

 Old Satan is one busy ole man; He rolls dem blocks all in my way; But Jesus is my bosom friend; He rolls dem blocks away. 

 If I had died when I was young, Den how my stam'ring tongue would have sung; But I am ole, and now I stand A narrow chance for to tread dat heavenly land. 

I well remember one occasion when I attended a Methodist class meeting. Iwent with a burdened spirit, and happened to sit next a poor, bereavedmother, whose heart was still heavier than mine. The class leader was thetown constable--a man who bought and sold slaves, who whipped his brethrenand sisters of the church at the public whipping post, in jail or out ofjail. He was ready to perform that Christian office any where for fiftycents. This white-faced, black-hearted brother came near us, and said tothe stricken woman, "Sister, can't you tell us how the Lord deals with yoursoul? Do you love him as you did formerly?"

She rose to her feet, and said, in piteous tones, "My Lord and Master, helpme! My load is more than I can bear. God has hid himself from me, and I amleft in darkness and misery. " Then, striking her breast, she continued, "Ican't tell you what is in here! They've got all my children. Last week theytook the last one. God only knows where they've sold her. They let me haveher sixteen years, and then--O! O! Pray for her brothers and sisters! I'vegot nothing to live for now. God make my time short!"

She sat down, quivering in every limb. I saw that constable class leaderbecome crimson in the face with suppressed laughter, while he held up hishandkerchief, that those who were weeping for the poor woman's calamitymight not see his merriment. Then, with assumed gravity, he said to thebereaved mother, "Sister, pray to the Lord that every dispensation of hisdivine will may be sanctified to the good of your poor needy soul!"

The congregation struck up a hymn, and sung as though they were as free asthe birds that warbled round us, --

 Ole Satan thought he had a mighty aim; He missed my soul, and caught my sins. Cry Amen, cry Amen, cry Amen to God!

 He took my sins upon his back; Went muttering and grumbling down to hell. Cry Amen, cry Amen, cry Amen to God!

 Ole Satan's church is here below. Up to God's free church I hope to go. Cry Amen, cry Amen, cry Amen to God!

Precious are such moments to the poor slaves. If you were to hear them atsuch times, you might think they were happy. But can that hour of singingand shouting sustain them through the dreary week, toiling without wages, under constant dread of the lash?

The Episcopal clergyman, who, ever since my earliest recollection, had beena sort of god among the slaveholders, concluded, as his family was large, that he must go where money was more abundant. A very different clergymantook his place. The change was very agreeable to the colored people, whosaid, "God has sent us a good man this time. " They loved him, and theirchildren followed him for a smile or a kind word. Even the slaveholdersfelt his influence. He brought to the rectory five slaves. His wife taughtthem to read and write, and to be useful to her and themselves. As soon ashe was settled, he turned his attention to the needy slaves around him. Heurged upon his parishioners the duty of having a meeting expressly for themevery Sunday, with a sermon adapted to their comprehension. After muchargument and importunity, it was finally agreed that they might occupy thegallery of the church on Sunday evenings. Many colored people, hithertounaccustomed to attend church, now gladly went to hear the gospel preached. The sermons were simple, and they understood them. Moreover, it was thefirst time they had ever been addressed as human beings. It was not longbefore his white parishioners began to be dissatisfied. He was accused ofpreaching better sermons to the negroes than he did to them. He honestlyconfessed that he bestowed more pains upon those sermons than upon anyothers; for the slaves were reared in such ignorance that it was adifficult task to adapt himself to their comprehension. Dissensions arosein the parish. Some wanted he should preach to them in the evening, and tothe slaves in the afternoon. In the midst of these disputings his wifedied, after a very short illness. Her slaves gathered round her dying bedin great sorrow. She said, "I have tried to do you good and promote yourhappiness; and if I have failed, it has not been for want of interest inyour welfare. Do not weep for me; but prepare for the new duties that liebefore you. I leave you all free. May we meet in a better world. " Herliberated slaves were sent away, with funds to establish them comfortably. The colored people will long bless the memory of that truly Christianwoman. Soon after her death her husband preached his farewell sermon, andmany tears were shed at his departure. 

Several years after, he passed through our town and preached to his formercongregation. In his afternoon sermon he addressed the colored people. "Myfriends, " said he, "it affords me great happiness to have an opportunity ofspeaking to you again. For two years I have been striving to do somethingfor the colored people of my own parish; but nothing is yet accomplished. Ihave not even preached a sermon to them. Try to live according to the wordof God, my friends. Your skin is darker than mine; but God judges men bytheir hearts, not by the color of their skins. " This was strange doctrinefrom a southern pulpit. It was very offensive to slaveholders. They said heand his wife had made fools of their slaves, and that he preached like afool to the negroes. 

I knew an old black man, whose piety and childlike trust in God werebeautiful to witness. At fifty-three years old he joined the Baptistchurch. He had a most earnest desire to learn to read. He thought he shouldknow how to serve God better if he could only read the Bible. He came tome, and begged me to teach him. He said he could not pay me, for he had nomoney; but he would bring me nice fruit when the season for it came. Iasked him if he didn't know it was contrary to law; and that slaves werewhipped and imprisoned for teaching each other to read. This brought thetears into his eyes. "Don't be troubled, uncle Fred, " said I. "I have nothoughts of refusing to teach you. I only told you of the law, that youmight know the danger, and be on your guard. " He thought he could plan tocome three times a week without its being suspected. I selected a quietnook, where no intruder was likely to penetrate, and there I taught him hisA, B, C. Considering his age, his progress was astonishing. As soon as hecould spell in two syllables he wanted to spell out words in the Bible. Thehappy smile that illuminated his face put joy into my heart. After spellingout a few words, he paused, and said, "Honey, it 'pears when I can read disgood book I shall be nearer to God. White man is got all de sense. He canlarn easy. It ain't easy for ole black man like me. I only wants to readdis book, dat I may know how to live; den I hab no fear 'bout dying. "

I tried to encourage him by speaking of the rapid progress he had made. "Hab patience, child, " he replied. "I larns slow. "

I had no need of patience. His gratitude, and the happiness imparted, weremore than a recompense for all my trouble. 

At the end of six months he had read through the New Testament, and couldfind any text in it. One day, when he had recited unusually well, I said, "Uncle Fred, how do you manage to get your lessons so well?"

"Lord bress you, chile, " he replied. "You nebber gibs me a lesson dat Idon't pray to God to help me to understan' what I spells and what I reads. And he _does_ help me, chile. Bress his holy name!"

There are thousands, who, like good uncle Fred, are thirsting for the waterof life; but the law forbids it, and the churches withhold it. They sendthe Bible to heathen abroad, and neglect the heathen at home. I am gladthat missionaries go out to the dark corners of the earth; but I ask themnot to overlook the dark corners at home. Talk to American slaveholders asyou talk to savages in Africa. Tell _them_ it was wrong to traffic in men. Tell them it is sinful to sell their own children, and atrocious to violatetheir own daughters. Tell them that all men are brethren, and that man hasno right to shut out the light of knowledge from his brother. Tell themthey are answerable to God for sealing up the Fountain of Life from soulsthat are thirsting for it. 

There are men who would gladly undertake such missionary work as this; but, alas! their number is small. They are hated by the south, and would bedriven from its soil, or dragged to prison to die, as others have beenbefore them. The field is ripe for the harvest, and awaits the reapers. Perhaps the great grandchildren of uncle Fred may have freely imparted tothem the divine treasures, which he sought by stealth, at the risk of theprison and the scourge. 

Are doctors of divinity blind, or are they hypocrites? I suppose some arethe one, and some the other; but I think if they felt the interest in thepoor and the lowly, that they ought to feel, they would not be so _easily_blinded. A clergyman who goes to the south, for the first time, has usuallysome feeling, however vague, that slavery is wrong. The slaveholdersuspects this, and plays his game accordingly. He makes himself asagreeable as possible; talks on theology, and other kindred topics. Thereverend gentleman is asked to invoke a blessing on a table loaded withluxuries. After dinner he walks round the premises, and sees the beautifulgroves and flowering vines, and the comfortable huts of favored householdslaves. The southerner invites him to talk with those slaves. He asks themif they want to be free, and they say, "O, no, massa. " This is sufficientto satisfy him. He comes home to publish a "South Side View of Slavery, "and to complain of the exaggerations of abolitionists. He assures peoplethat he has been to the south, and seen slavery for himself; that it is abeautiful "patriarchal institution;" that the slaves don't want theirfreedom; that they have hallelujah meetings and other religious privileges. 

What does _he_ know of the half-starved wretches toiling from dawn tilldark on the plantations? of mothers shrieking for their children, torn fromtheir arms by slave traders? of young girls dragged down into moral filth?of pools of blood around the whipping post? of hounds trained to tear humanflesh? of men screwed into cotton gins to die? The slaveholder showed himnone of these things, and the slaves dared not tell of them if he had askedthem. 

There is a great difference between Christianity and religion at the south. If a man goes to the communion table, and pays money into the treasury ofthe church, no matter if it be the price of blood, he is called religious. If a pastor has offspring by a woman not his wife, the church dismiss him, if she is a white woman; but if she is colored, it does not hinder hiscontinuing to be their good shepherd. 

When I was told that Dr. Flint had joined the Episcopal church, I was muchsurprised. I supposed that religion had a purifying effect on the characterof men; but the worst persecutions I endured from him were after he was acommunicant. The conversation of the doctor, the day after he had beenconfirmed, certainly gave _me_ no indication that he had "renounced thedevil and all his works. " In answer to some of his usual talk, I remindedhim that he had just joined the church. "Yes, Linda, " said he. "It wasproper for me to do so. I am getting in years, and my position in societyrequires it, and it puts an end to all the damned slang. You would do wellto join the church, too, Linda. "

"There are sinners enough in it already, " rejoined I. "If I could beallowed to live like a Christian, I should be glad. "

"You can do what I require; and if you are faithful to me, you will be asvirtuous as my wife, " he replied. 

I answered that the Bible didn't say so. 

His voice became hoarse with rage. "How dare you preach to me about yourinfernal Bible!" he exclaimed. "What right have you, who are my negro, totalk to me about what you would like and what you wouldn't like? I am yourmaster, and you shall obey me. "

No wonder the slaves sing, --

 Ole Satan's church is here below; Up to God's free church I hope to go. 

XIV. Another Link To Life. 

I had not returned to my master's house since the birth of my child. Theold man raved to have me thus removed from his immediate power; but hiswife vowed, by all that was good and great, she would kill me if I cameback; and he did not doubt her word. Sometimes he would stay away for aseason. Then he would come and renew the old threadbare discourse about hisforbearance and my ingratitude. He labored, most unnecessarily, to convinceme that I had lowered myself. The venomous old reprobate had no need ofdescanting on that theme. I felt humiliated enough. My unconscious babe wasthe ever-present witness of my shame. I listened with silent contempt whenhe talked about my having forfeited _his_ good opinion; but I shed bittertears that I was no longer worthy of being respected by the good and pure. Alas! slavery still held me in its poisonous grasp. There was no chance forme to be respectable. There was no prospect of being able to lead a betterlife. 

Sometimes, when my master found that I still refused to accept what hecalled his kind offers, he would threaten to sell my child. "Perhaps thatwill humble you, " said he. 

Humble _me_! Was I not already in the dust? But his threat lacerated myheart. I knew the law gave him power to fulfil it; for slaveholders havebeen cunning enough to enact that "the child shall follow the condition ofthe _mother_, " not of the _father_, thus taking care that licentiousnessshall not interfere with avarice. This reflection made me clasp my innocentbabe all the more firmly to my heart. Horrid visions passed through my mindwhen I thought of his liability to fall into the slave trader's hands. Iwept over him, and said, "O my child! perhaps they will leave you in somecold cabin to die, and then throw you into a hole, as if you were a dog. "

When Dr. Flint learned that I was again to be a mother, he was exasperatedbeyond measure. He rushed from the house, and returned with a pair ofshears. I had a fine head of hair; and he often railed about my pride ofarranging it nicely. He cut every hair close to my head, storming andswearing all the time. I replied to some of his abuse, and he struck me. Some months before, he had pitched me down stairs in a fit of passion; andthe injury I received was so serious that I was unable to turn myself inbed for many days. He then said, "Linda, I swear by God I will never raisemy hand against you again;" but I knew that he would forget his promise. 

After he discovered my situation, he was like a restless spirit from thepit. He came every day; and I was subjected to such insults as no pen candescribe. I would not describe them if I could; they were too low, toorevolting. I tried to keep them from my grandmother's knowledge as much asI could. I knew she had enough to sadden her life, without having mytroubles to bear. When she saw the doctor treat me with violence, and heardhim utter oaths terrible enough to palsy a man's tongue, she could notalways hold her peace. It was natural and motherlike that she should try todefend me; but it only made matters worse. 

When they told me my new-born babe was a girl, my heart was heavier than ithad ever been before. Slavery is terrible for men; but it is far moreterrible for women. Superadded to the burden common to all, _they_ havewrongs, and sufferings, and mortifications peculiarly their own. 

Dr. Flint had sworn that he would make me suffer, to my last day, for thisnew crime against _him_, as he called it; and as long as he had me in hispower he kept his word. On the fourth day after the birth of my babe, heentered my room suddenly, and commanded me to rise and bring my baby tohim. The nurse who took care of me had gone out of the room to prepare somenourishment, and I was alone. There was no alternative. I rose, took up mybabe, and crossed the room to where he sat. "Now stand there, " said he, "till I tell you to go back!" My child bore a strong resemblance to herfather, and to the deceased Mrs. Sands, her grandmother. He noticed this;and while I stood before him, trembling with weakness, he heaped upon meand my little one every vile epithet he could think of. Even thegrandmother in her grave did not escape his curses. In the midst of hisvituperations I fainted at his feet. This recalled him to his senses. Hetook the baby from my arms, laid it on the bed, dashed cold water in myface, took me up, and shook me violently, to restore my consciousnessbefore any one entered the room. Just then my grandmother came in, and hehurried out of the house. I suffered in consequence of this treatment; butI begged my friends to let me die, rather than send for the doctor. Therewas nothing I dreaded so much as his presence. My life was spared; and Iwas glad for the sake of my little ones. Had it not been for these ties tolife, I should have been glad to be released by death, though I had livedonly nineteen years. 

Always it gave me a pang that my children had no lawful claim to a name. Their father offered his; but, if I had wished to accept the offer, I darednot while my master lived. Moreover, I knew it would not be accepted attheir baptism. A Christian name they were at least entitled to; and weresolved to call my boy for our dear good Benjamin, who had gone far awayfrom us. 

My grandmother belonged to the church; and she was very desirous of havingthe children christened. I knew Dr. Flint would forbid it, and I did notventure to attempt it. But chance favored me. He was called to visit apatient out of town, and was obliged to be absent during Sunday. "Now isthe time, " said my grandmother; "we will take the children to church, andhave them christened. "

When I entered the church, recollections of my mother came over me, and Ifelt subdued in spirit. There she had presented me for baptism, without anyreason to feel ashamed. She had been married, and had such legal rights asslavery allows to a slave. The vows had at least been sacred to _her_, andshe had never violated them. I was glad she was not alive, to know underwhat different circumstances her grandchildren were presented for baptism. Why had my lot been so different from my mother's? _Her_ master had diedwhen she was a child; and she remained with her mistress till she married. She was never in the power of any master; and thus she escaped one class ofthe evils that generally fall upon slaves. 

When my baby was about to be christened, the former mistress of my fatherstepped up to me, and proposed to give it her Christian name. To this Iadded the surname of my father, who had himself no legal right to it; formy grandfather on the paternal side was a white gentleman. What tangledskeins are the genealogies of slavery! I loved my father; but it mortifiedme to be obliged to bestow his name on my children. 

When we left the church, my father's old mistress invited me to go homewith her. She clasped a gold chain round my baby's neck. I thanked her forthis kindness; but I did not like the emblem. I wanted no chain to befastened on my daughter, not even if its links were of gold. How earnestlyI prayed that she might never feel the weight of slavery's chain, whoseiron entereth into the soul!

XV. Continued Persecutions. 

My children grew finely; and Dr. Flint would often say to me, with anexulting smile. "These brats will bring me a handsome sum of money one ofthese days. "

I thought to myself that, God being my helper, they should never pass intohis hands. It seemed to me I would rather see them killed than have themgiven up to his power. The money for the freedom of myself and my childrencould be obtained; but I derived no advantage from that circumstance. Dr. Flint loved money, but he loved power more. After much discussion, myfriends resolved on making another trial. There was a slaveholder about toleave for Texas, and he was commissioned to buy me. He was to begin withnine hundred dollars, and go up to twelve. My master refused his offers. "Sir, " said he, "she don't belong to me. She is my daughter's property, andI have no right to sell her. I mistrust that you come from her paramour. Ifso, you may tell him that he cannot buy her for any money; neither can hebuy her children. "

The doctor came to see me the next day, and my heart beat quicker as heentered. I never had seen the old man tread with so majestic a step. Heseated himself and looked at me with withering scorn. My children hadlearned to be afraid of him. The little one would shut her eyes and hideher face on my shoulder whenever she saw him; and Benny, who was now nearlyfive years old, often inquired, "What makes that bad man come here so manytimes? Does he want to hurt us?" I would clasp the dear boy in my arms, trusting that he would be free before he was old enough to solve theproblem. And now, as the doctor sat there so grim and silent, the childleft his play and came and nestled up by me. At last my tormentor spoke. "So you are left in disgust, are you?" said he. "It is no more than Iexpected. You remember I told you years ago that you would be treated so. So he is tired of you? Ha! ha! ha! The virtuous madam don't like to hearabout it, does she? Ha! ha! ha!" There was a sting in his calling mevirtuous madam. I no longer had the power of answering him as I hadformerly done. He continued: "So it seems you are trying to get up anotherintrigue. Your new paramour came to me, and offered to buy you; but you maybe assured you will not succeed. You are mine; and you shall be mine forlife. There lives no human being that can take you out of slavery. I wouldhave done it; but you rejected my kind offer. "

I told him I did not wish to get up any intrigue; that I had never seen theman who offered to buy me. 

"Do you tell me I lie?" exclaimed he, dragging me from my chair. "Will yousay again that you never saw that man?"

I answered, "I do say so. "

He clinched my arm with a volley of oaths. Ben began to scream, and I toldhim to go to his grandmother. 

"Don't you stir a step, you little wretch!" said he. The child drew nearerto me, and put his arms round me, as if he wanted to protect me. This wastoo much for my enraged master. He caught him up and hurled him across theroom. I thought he was dead, and rushed towards him to take him up. 

"Not yet!" exclaimed the doctor. "Let him lie there till he comes to. "

"Let me go! Let me go!" I screamed, "or I will raise the whole house. " Istruggled and got away; but he clinched me again. Somebody opened the door, and he released me. I picked up my insensible child, and when I turned mytormentor was gone. Anxiously, I bent over the little form, so pale andstill; and when the brown eyes at last opened, I don't know whether I wasvery happy. All the doctor's former persecutions were renewed. He camemorning, noon, and night. No jealous lover ever watched a rival moreclosely than he watched me and the unknown slaveholder, with whom heaccused me of wishing to get up an intrigue. When my grandmother was out ofthe way he searched every room to find him. 

In one of his visits, he happened to find a young girl, whom he had sold toa trader a few days previous. His statement was, that he sold her becauseshe had been too familiar with the overseer. She had had a bitter life withhim, and was glad to be sold. She had no mother, and no near ties. She hadbeen torn from all her family years before. A few friends had entered intobonds for her safety, if the trader would allow her to spend with them thetime that intervened between her sale and the gathering up of his humanstock. Such a favor was rarely granted. It saved the trader the expense ofboard and jail fees, and though the amount was small, it was a weightyconsideration in a slavetrader's mind. 

Dr. Flint always had an aversion to meeting slaves after he had sold them. He ordered Rose out of the house; but he was no longer her master, and shetook no notice of him. For once the crushed Rose was the conqueror. Hisgray eyes flashed angrily upon her; but that was the extent of his power. "How came this girl here?" he exclaimed. "What right had you to allow it, when you knew I had sold her?"

I answered, "This is my grandmother's house, and Rose came to see her. Ihave no right to turn any body out of doors, that comes here for honestpurposes. "

He gave me the blow that would have fallen upon Rose if she had still beenhis slave. My grandmother's attention had been attracted by loud voices, and she entered in time to see a second blow dealt. She was not a woman tolet such an outrage, in her own house, go unrebuked. The doctor undertookto explain that I had been insolent. Her indignant feelings rose higher andhigher, and finally boiled over in words. "Get out of my house!" sheexclaimed. "Go home, and take care of your wife and children, and you willhave enough to do, without watching my family. "

He threw the birth of my children in her face, and accused her ofsanctioning the life I was leading. She told him I was living with her bycompulsion of his wife; that he needn't accuse her, for he was the one toblame; he was the one who had caused all the trouble. She grew more andmore excited as she went on. "I tell you what, Dr. Flint, " said she, "youain't got many more years to live, and you'd better be saying your prayers. It will take 'em all, and more too, to wash the dirt off your soul. "

"Do you know whom you are talking to?" he exclaimed. 

She replied, "Yes, I know very well who I am talking to. "

He left the house in a great rage. I looked at my grandmother. Our eyesmet. Their angry expression had passed away, but she looked sorrowful andweary--weary of incessant strife. I wondered that it did not lessen herlove for me; but if it did she never showed it. She was always kind, alwaysready to sympathize with my troubles. There might have been peace andcontentment in that humble home if it had not been for the demon Slavery. 

The winter passed undisturbed by the doctor. The beautiful spring came; andwhen Nature resumes her loveliness, the human soul is apt to revive also. My drooping hopes came to life again with the flowers. I was dreaming offreedom again; more for my children's sake than my own. I planned and Iplanned. Obstacles hit against plans. There seemed no way of overcomingthem; and yet I hoped. 

Back came the wily doctor. I was not at home when he called. A friend hadinvited me to a small party, and to gratify her I went. To my greatconsternation, a messenger came in haste to say that Dr. Flint was at mygrandmother's, and insisted on seeing me. They did not tell him where Iwas, or he would have come and raised a disturbance in my friend's house. They sent me a dark wrapper, I threw it on and hurried home. My speed didnot save me; the doctor had gone away in anger. I dreaded the morning, butI could not delay it; it came, warm and bright. At an early hour the doctorcame and asked me where I had been last night. I told him. He did notbelieve me, and sent to my friend's house to ascertain the facts. He camein the afternoon to assure me he was satisfied that I had spoken the truth. He seemed to be in a facetious mood, and I expected some jeers were coming. "I suppose you need some recreation, " said he, "but I am surprised at yourbeing there, among those negroes. It was not the place for _you_. Are you_allowed_ to visit such people?"

I understood this covert fling at the white gentleman who was my friend;but I merely replied, "I went to visit my friends, and any company theykeep is good enough for me. "

He went on to say, "I have seen very little of you of late, but my interestin you is unchanged. When I said I would have no more mercy on you I wasrash. I recall my words. Linda, you desire freedom for yourself and yourchildren, and you can obtain it only through me. If you agree to what I amabout to propose, you and they shall be free. There must be nocommunication of any kind between you and their father. I will procure acottage, where you and the children can live together. Your labor shall belight, such as sewing for my family. Think what is offered you, Linda--ahome and freedom! Let the past be forgotten. If I have been harsh with youat times, your willfulness drove me to it. You know I exact obedience frommy own children, and I consider you as yet a child. "

He paused for an answer, but I remained silent. "Why don't you speak?"said he. "What more do you wait for?"

"Nothing, sir. "

"Then you accept my offer?"

"No, sir. "

His anger was ready to break loose; but he succeeded in curbing it, andreplied, "You have answered without thought. But I must let you know thereare two sides to my proposition; if you reject the bright side, you will beobliged to take the dark one. You must either accept my offer, or you andyour children shall be sent to your young master's plantation, there toremain till your young mistress is married; and your children shall farelike the rest of the negro children. I give you a week to consider it. "

He was shrewd; but I knew he was not to be trusted. I told him I was readyto give my answer now. 

"I will not receive it now, " he replied. "You act too much from impulse. Remember that you and your children can be free a week from to-day if youchoose. "

On what a monstrous chance hung the destiny of my children! I knew that mymaster's offer was a snare, and that if I entered it escape would beimpossible. As for his promise, I knew him so well that I was sure if hegave me free papers, they would be so managed as to have no legal value. The alternative was inevitable. I resolved to go to the plantation. Butthen I thought how completely I should be in his power, and the prospectwas appalling. Even if I should kneel before him, and implore him to spareme, for the sake of my children, I knew he would spurn me with his foot, and my weakness would be his triumph. 

Before the week expired, I heard that young Mr. Flint was about to bemarried to a lady of his own stamp. I foresaw the position I should occupyin his establishment. I had once been sent to the plantation forpunishment, and fear of the son had induced the father to recall me verysoon. My mind was made up; I was resolved that I would foil my master andsave my children, or I would perish in the attempt. I kept my plans tomyself; I knew that friends would try to dissuade me from them, and I wouldnot wound their feelings by rejecting their advice. 

On the decisive day the doctor came, and said he hoped I had made a wisechoice. 

"I am ready to go to the plantation, sir, " I replied. 

"Have you thought how important your decision is to your children?" saidhe. 

I told him I had. 

"Very well. Go to the plantation, and my curse go with you, " he replied. "Your boy shall be put to work, and he shall soon be sold; and your girlshall be raised for the purpose of selling well. Go your own ways!" He leftthe room with curses, not to be repeated. 

As I stood rooted to the spot, my grandmother came and said, "Linda, child, what did you tell him?"

I answered that I was going to the plantation. 

"_Must_ you go?" said she. "Can't something be done to stop it?"

I told her it was useless to try; but she begged me not to give up. Shesaid she would go to the doctor, and remind him how long and how faithfullyshe had served in the family, and how she had taken her own baby from herbreast to nourish his wife. She would tell him I had been out of the familyso long they would not miss me; that she would pay them for my time, andthe money would procure a woman who had more strength for the situationthan I had. I begged her not to go; but she persisted in saying, "He willlisten to _me_, Linda. " She went, and was treated as I expected. He coollylistened to what she said, but denied her request. He told her that what hedid was for my good, that my feelings were entirely above my situation, andthat on the plantation I would receive treatment that was suitable to mybehavior. 

My grandmother was much cast down. I had my secret hopes; but I must fightmy battle alone. I had a woman's pride, and a mother's love for mychildren; and I resolved that out of the darkness of this hour a brighterdawn should rise for them. My master had power and law on his side; I had adetermined will. There is might in each. 

XVI. Scenes At The Plantation. 

Early the next morning I left my grandmother's with my youngest child. Myboy was ill, and I left him behind. I had many sad thoughts as the oldwagon jolted on. Hitherto, I had suffered alone; now, my little one was tobe treated as a slave. As we drew near the great house, I thought of thetime when I was formerly sent there out of revenge. I wondered for whatpurpose I was now sent. I could not tell. I resolved to obey orders so faras duty required; but within myself, I determined to make my stay as shortas possible. Mr. Flint was waiting to receive us, and told me to follow himup stairs to receive orders for the day. My little Ellen was left below inthe kitchen. It was a change for her, who had always been so carefullytended. My young master said she might amuse herself in the yard. This waskind of him, since the child was hateful to his sight. My task was to fitup the house for the reception of the bride. In the midst of sheets, tablecloths, towels, drapery, and carpeting, my head was as busy planning, as were my fingers with the needle. At noon I was allowed to go to Ellen. She had sobbed herself to sleep. I heard Mr. Flint say to a neighbor, "I'vegot her down here, and I'll soon take the town notions out of her head. Myfather is partly to blame for her nonsense. He ought to have broke her inlong ago. " The remark was made within my hearing, and it would have beenquite as manly to have made it to my face. He _had_ said things to my facewhich might, or might not, have surprised his neighbor if he had known ofthem. He was "a chip of the old block. "

I resolved to give him no cause to accuse me of being too much of a lady, so far as work was concerned. I worked day and night, with wretchednessbefore me. When I lay down beside my child, I felt how much easier it wouldbe to see her die than to see her master beat her about, as I daily saw himbeat other little ones. The spirit of the mothers was so crushed by thelash, that they stood by, without courage to remonstrate. How much moremust I suffer, before I should be "broke in" to that degree?

I wished to appear as contented as possible. Sometimes I had an opportunityto send a few lines home; and this brought up recollections that made itdifficult, for a time, to seem calm and indifferent to my lot. Notwithstanding my efforts, I saw that Mr. Flint regarded me with asuspicious eye. Ellen broke down under the trials of her new life. Separated from me, with no one to look after her, she wandered about, andin a few days cried herself sick. One day, she sat under the window where Iwas at work, crying that weary cry which makes a mother's heart bleed. Iwas obliged to steel myself to bear it. After a while it ceased. I lookedout, and she was gone. As it was near noon, I ventured to go down in searchof her. The great house was raised two feet above the ground. I lookedunder it, and saw her about midway, fast asleep. I crept under and drew herout. As I held her in my arms, I thought how well it would be for her ifshe never waked up; and I uttered my thought aloud. I was startled to hearsome one say, "Did you speak to me?" I looked up, and saw Mr. Flintstanding beside me. He said nothing further, but turned, frowning, away. That night he sent Ellen a biscuit and a cup of sweetened milk. Thisgenerosity surprised me. I learned afterwards, that in the afternoon he hadkilled a large snake, which crept from under the house; and I supposed thatincident had prompted his unusual kindness. 

The next morning the old cart was loaded with shingles for town. I putEllen into it, and sent her to her grandmother. Mr. Flint said I ought tohave asked his permission. I told him the child was sick, and requiredattention which I had no time to give. He let it pass; for he was awarethat I had accomplished much work in a little time. 

I had been three weeks on the plantation, when I planned a visit home. Itmust be at night, after every body was in bed. I was six miles from town, and the road was very dreary. I was to go with a young man, who, I knew, often stole to town to see his mother. One night, when all was quiet, westarted. Fear gave speed to our steps, and we were not long in performingthe journey. I arrived at my grandmother's. Her bed room was on the firstfloor, and the window was open, the weather being warm. I spoke to her andshe awoke. She let me in and closed the window, lest some late passer-byshould see me. A light was brought, and the whole household gathered roundme, some smiling and some crying. I went to look at my children, andthanked God for their happy sleep. The tears fell as I leaned over them. AsI moved to leave, Benny stirred. I turned back, and whispered, "Mother ishere. " After digging at his eyes with his little fist, they opened, and hesat up in bed, looking at me curiously. Having satisfied himself that itwas I, he exclaimed, "O mother! you ain't dad, are you? They didn't cut offyour head at the plantation, did they?"

My time was up too soon, and my guide was waiting for me. I laid Benny backin his bed, and dried his tears by a promise to come again soon. Rapidly weretraced our steps back to the plantation. About half way we were met by acompany of four patrols. Luckily we heard their horse's hoofs before theycame in sight, and we had time to hide behind a large tree. They passed, hallooing and shouting in a manner that indicated a recent carousal. Howthankful we were that they had not their dogs with them! We hastened ourfootsteps, and when we arrived on the plantation we heard the sound of thehand-mill. The slaves were grinding their corn. We were safely in the housebefore the horn summoned them to their labor. I divided my little parcel offood with my guide, knowing that he had lost the chance of grinding hiscorn, and must toil all day in the field. 

Mr. Flint often took an inspection of the house, to see that no one wasidle. The entire management of the work was trusted to me, because he knewnothing about it; and rather than hire a superintendent he contentedhimself with my arrangements. He had often urged upon his father thenecessity of having me at the plantation to take charge of his affairs, andmake clothes for the slaves; but the old man knew him too well to consentto that arrangement. 

When I had been working a month at the plantation, the great aunt of Mr. Flint came to make him a visit. This was the good old lady who paid fiftydollars for my grandmother, for the purpose of making her free, when shestood on the auction block. My grandmother loved this old lady, whom we allcalled Miss Fanny. She often came to take tea with us. On such occasionsthe table was spread with a snow-white cloth, and the china cups and silverspoons were taken from the old-fashioned buffet. There were hot muffins, tea rusks, and delicious sweetmeats. My grandmother kept two cows, and thefresh cream was Miss Fanny's delight. She invariably declared that it wasthe best in town. The old ladies had cosey times together. They would workand chat, and sometimes, while talking over old times, their spectacleswould get dim with tears, and would have to be taken off and wiped. WhenMiss Fanny bade us good by, her bag was filled with grandmother's bestcakes, and she was urged to come again soon. 

There had been a time when Dr. Flint's wife came to take tea with us, andwhen her children were also sent to have a feast of "Aunt Marthy's" nicecooking. But after I became an object of her jealousy and spite, she wasangry with grandmother for giving a shelter to me and my children. Shewould not even speak to her in the street. This wounded my grandmother'sfeelings, for she could not retain ill will against the woman whom she hadnourished with her milk when a babe. The doctor's wife would gladly haveprevented our intercourse with Miss Fanny if she could have done it, butfortunately she was not dependent on the bounty of the Flints. She hadenough to be independent; and that is more than can ever be gained fromcharity, however lavish it may be. 

Miss Fanny was endeared to me by many recollections, and I was rejoiced tosee her at the plantation. The warmth of her large, loyal heart made thehouse seem pleasanter while she was in it. She staid a week, and I had manytalks with her. She said her principal object in coming was to see how Iwas treated, and whether any thing could be done for me. She inquiredwhether she could help me in any way. I told her I believed not. Shecondoled with me in her own peculiar way; saying she wished that I and allmy grandmother's family were at rest in our graves, for not until thenshould she feel any peace about us. The good old soul did not dream that Iwas planning to bestow peace upon her, with regard to myself and mychildren; not by death, but by securing our freedom. 

Again and again I had traversed those dreary twelve miles, to and from thetown; and all the way, I was meditating upon some means of escape formyself and my children. My friends had made every effort that ingenuitycould devise to effect our purchase, but all their plans had provedabortive. Dr. Flint was suspicious, and determined not to loosen his graspupon us. I could have made my escape alone; but it was more for my helplesschildren than for myself that I longed for freedom. Though the boon wouldhave been precious to me, above all price, I would not have taken it at theexpense of leaving them in slavery. Every trial I endured, every sacrificeI made for their sakes, drew them closer to my heart, and gave me freshcourage to beat back the dark waves that rolled and rolled over me in aseemingly endless night of storms. 

The six weeks were nearly completed, when Mr. Flint's bride was expected totake possession of her new home. The arrangements were all completed, andMr. Flint said I had done well. He expected to leave home on Saturday, andreturn with his bride the following Wednesday. After receiving variousorders from him, I ventured to ask permission to spend Sunday in town. Itwas granted; for which favor I was thankful. It was the first I had everasked of him, and I intended it should be the last. I needed more than onenight to accomplish the project I had in view; but the whole of Sundaywould give me an opportunity. I spent the Sabbath with my grandmother. Acalmer, more beautiful day never came down out of heaven. To me it was aday of conflicting emotions. Perhaps it was the last day I should everspend under that dear, old sheltering roof! Perhaps these were the lasttalks I should ever have with the faithful old friend of my whole life!Perhaps it was the last time I and my children should be together! Well, better so, I thought, than that they should be slaves. I knew the doom thatawaited my fair baby in slavery, and I determined to save her from it, orperish in the attempt. I went to make this vow at the graves of my poorparents, in the burying-ground of the slaves. "There the wicked cease fromtroubling, and there the weary be at rest. There the prisoners resttogether; they hear not the voice of the oppressor; the servant is freefrom his master. " I knelt by the graves of my parents, and thanked God, asI had often done before, that they had not lived to witness my trials, orto mourn over my sins. I had received my mother's blessing when she died;and in many an hour of tribulation I had seemed to hear her voice, sometimes chiding me, sometimes whispering loving words into my woundedheart. I have shed many and bitter tears, to think that when I am gone frommy children they cannot remember me with such entire satisfaction as Iremembered my mother. 

The graveyard was in the woods, and twilight was coming on. Nothing brokethe death-like stillness except the occasional twitter of a bird. My spiritwas overawed by the solemnity of the scene. For more than ten years I hadfrequented this spot, but never had it seemed to me so sacred as now. Ablack stump, at the head of my mother's grave, was all that remained of atree my father had planted. His grave was marked by a small wooden board, bearing his name, the letters of which were nearly obliterated. I kneltdown and kissed them, and poured forth a prayer to God for guidance andsupport in the perilous step I was about to take. As I passed the wreck ofthe old meeting house, where, before Nat Turner's time, the slaves had beenallowed to meet for worship, I seemed to hear my father's voice come fromit, bidding me not to tarry till I reached freedom or the grave. I rushedon with renovated hopes. My trust in God had been strengthened by thatprayer among the graves. 

My plan was to conceal myself at the house of a friend, and remain there afew weeks till the search was over. My hope was that the doctor would getdiscouraged, and, for fear of losing my value, and also of subsequentlyfinding my children among the missing, he would consent to sell us; and Iknew somebody would buy us. I had done all in my power to make my childrencomfortable during the time I expected to be separated from them. I waspacking my things, when grandmother came into the room, and asked what Iwas doing. "I am putting my things in order, " I replied. I tried to lookand speak cheerfully; but her watchful eye detected something beneath thesurface. She drew me towards her, and asked me to sit down. She lookedearnestly at me, and said, "Linda, do you want to kill your oldgrandmother? Do you mean to leave your little, helpless children? I am oldnow, and cannot do for your babies as I once did for you. "

I replied, that if I went away, perhaps their father would be able tosecure their freedom. 

"Ah, my child, " said she, "don't trust too much to him. Stand by your ownchildren, and suffer with them till death. Nobody respects a mother whoforsakes her children; and if you leave them, you will never have a happymoment. If you go, you will make me miserable the short time I have tolive. You would be taken and brought back, and your sufferings would bedreadful. Remember poor Benjamin. Do give it up, Linda. Try to bear alittle longer. Things may turn out better than we expect. "

My courage failed me, in view of the sorrow I should bring on thatfaithful, loving old heart. I promised that I would try longer, and that Iwould take nothing out of her house without her knowledge. 

Whenever the children climbed on my knee, or laid their heads on my lap, she would say, "Poor little souls! what would you do without a mother? Shedon't love you as I do. " And she would hug them to her own bosom, as if toreproach me for my want of affection; but she knew all the while that Iloved them better than my life. I slept with her that night, and it was thelast time. The memory of it haunted me for many a year. 

On Monday I returned to the plantation, and busied myself with preparationsfor the important day. Wednesday came. It was a beautiful day, and thefaces of the slaves were as bright as the sunshine. The poor creatures weremerry. They were expecting little presents from the bride, and hoping forbetter times under her administration. I had no such hopes for them. I knewthat the young wives of slaveholders often thought their authority andimportance would be best established and maintained by cruelty; and what Ihad heard of young Mrs. Flint gave me no reason to expect that her ruleover them would be less severe than that of the master and overseer. Truly, the colored race are the most cheerful and forgiving people on the face ofthe earth. That their masters sleep in safety is owing to theirsuperabundance of heart; and yet they look upon their sufferings with lesspity than they would bestow on those of a horse or a dog. 

I stood at the door with others to receive the bridegroom and bride. Shewas a handsome, delicate-looking girl, and her face flushed with emotion atsight of her new home. I thought it likely that visions of a happy futurewere rising before her. It made me sad; for I knew how soon clouds wouldcome over her sunshine. She examined every part of the house, and told meshe was delighted with the arrangements I had made. I was afraid old Mrs. Flint had tried to prejudice her against me, and I did my best to pleaseher. 

All passed off smoothly for me until dinner time arrived. I did not mindthe embarrassment of waiting on a dinner party, for the first time in mylife, half so much as I did the meeting with Dr. Flint and his wife, whowould be among the guests. It was a mystery to me why Mrs. Flint had notmade her appearance at the plantation during all the time I was putting thehouse in order. I had not met her, face to face, for five years, and I hadno wish to see her now. She was a praying woman, and, doubtless, consideredmy present position a special answer to her prayers. Nothing could pleaseher better than to see me humbled and trampled upon. I was just where shewould have me--in the power of a hard, unprincipled master. She did notspeak to me when she took her seat at table; but her satisfied, triumphantsmile, when I handed her plate, was more eloquent than words. The olddoctor was not so quiet in his demonstrations. He ordered me here andthere, and spoke with peculiar emphasis when he said "your _mistress_. " Iwas drilled like a disgraced soldier. When all was over, and the last keyturned, I sought my pillow, thankful that God had appointed a season ofrest for the weary. 

The next day my new mistress began her housekeeping. I was not exactlyappointed maid of all work; but I was to do whatever I was told. Mondayevening came. It was always a busy time. On that night the slaves receivedtheir weekly allowance of food. Three pounds of meat, a peck of corn, andperhaps a dozen herring were allowed to each man. Women received a poundand a half of meat, a peck of corn, and the same number of herring. Children over twelve years old had half the allowance of the women. Themeat was cut and weighed by the foreman of the field hands, and piled onplanks before the meat house. Then the second foreman went behind thebuilding, and when the first foreman called out, "Who takes this piece ofmeat?" he answered by calling somebody's name. This method was resorted toas a means of preventing partiality in distributing the meat. The youngmistress came out to see how things were done on her plantation, and shesoon gave a specimen of her character. Among those in waiting for theirallowance was a very old slave, who had faithfully served the Flint familythrough three generations. When he hobbled up to get his bit of meat, themistress said he was too old to have any allowance; that when niggers weretoo old to work, they ought to be fed on grass. Poor old man! He sufferedmuch before he found rest in the grave. 

My mistress and I got along very well together. At the end of a week, oldMrs. Flint made us another visit, and was closeted a long time with herdaughter-in-law. I had my suspicions what was the subject of theconference. The old doctor's wife had been informed that I could leave theplantation on one condition, and she was very desirous to keep me there. Ifshe had trusted me, as I deserved to be trusted by her, she would have hadno fears of my accepting that condition. When she entered her carriage toreturn home, she said to young Mrs. Flint, "Don't neglect to send for themas quick as possible. " My heart was on the watch all the time, and I atonce concluded that she spoke of my children. The doctor came the next day, and as I entered the room to spread the tea table, I heard him say, "Don'twait any longer. Send for them to-morrow. " I saw through the plan. Theythought my children's being there would fetter me to the spot, and that itwas a good place to break us all in to abject submission to our lot asslaves. After the doctor left, a gentleman called, who had alwaysmanifested friendly feelings towards my grandmother and her family. Mr. Flint carried him over the plantation to show him the results of laborperformed by men and women who were unpaid, miserably clothed, and halffamished. The cotton crop was all they thought of. It was duly admired, andthe gentleman returned with specimens to show his friends. I was ordered tocarry water to wash his hands. As I did so, he said, "Linda, how do youlike your new home?" I told him I liked it as well as I expected. Hereplied, "They don't think you are contented, and to-morrow they are goingto bring your children to be with you. I am sorry for you, Linda. I hopethey will treat you kindly. " I hurried from the room, unable to thank him. My suspicions were correct. My children were to be brought to theplantation to be "broke in. "

To this day I feel grateful to the gentleman who gave me this timelyinformation. It nerved me to immediate action. 

XVII. The Flight. 

Mr. Flint was hard pushed for house servants, and rather than lose me hehad restrained his malice. I did my work faithfully, though not, of course, with a willing mind. They were evidently afraid I should leave them. Mr. Flint wished that I should sleep in the great house instead of theservants' quarters. His wife agreed to the proposition, but said I mustn'tbring my bed into the house, because it would scatter feathers on hercarpet. I knew when I went there that they would never think of such athing as furnishing a bed of any kind for me and my little ones. Itherefore carried my own bed, and now I was forbidden to use it. I did as Iwas ordered. But now that I was certain my children were to be put in theirpower, in order to give them a stronger hold on me, I resolved to leavethem that night. I remembered the grief this step would bring upon my dearold grandmother, and nothing less than the freedom of my children wouldhave induced me to disregard her advice. I went about my evening work withtrembling steps. Mr. Flint twice called from his chamber door to inquirewhy the house was not locked up. I replied that I had not done my work. "You have had time enough to do it, " said he. "Take care how you answerme!"

I shut all the windows, locked all the doors, and went up to the thirdstory, to wait till midnight. How long those hours seemed, and howfervently I prayed that God would not forsake me in this hour of utmostneed! I was about to risk every thing on the throw of a die; and if Ifailed, O what would become of me and my poor children? They would be madeto suffer for my fault. 

At half past twelve I stole softly down stairs. I stopped on the secondfloor, thinking I heard a noise. I felt my way down into the parlor, andlooked out of the window. The night was so intensely dark that I could seenothing. I raised the window very softly and jumped out. Large drops ofrain were falling, and the darkness bewildered me. I dropped on my knees, and breathed a short prayer to God for guidance and protection. I groped myway to the road, and rushed towards the town with almost lightning speed. Iarrived at my grandmother's house, but dared not see her. She would say, "Linda, you are killing me;" and I knew that would unnerve me. I tappedsoftly at the window of a room, occupied by a woman, who had lived in thehouse several years. I knew she was a faithful friend, and could be trustedwith my secret. I tapped several times before she heard me. At last sheraised the window, and I whispered, "Sally, I have run away. Let me in, quick. " She opened the door softly, and said in low tones, "For God's sake, don't. Your grandmother is trying to buy you and de chillern. Mr. Sands washere last week. He tole her he was going away on business, but he wantedher to go ahead about buying you and de chillern, and he would help her allhe could. Don't run away, Linda. Your grandmother is all bowed down widtrouble now. "

I replied, "Sally, they are going to carry my children to the plantationto-morrow; and they will never sell them to any body so long as they haveme in their power. Now, would you advise me to go back?"

"No, chile, no, " answered she. "When dey finds you is gone, dey won't wantde plague ob de chillern; but where is you going to hide? Dey knows eberyinch ob dis house. "

I told her I had a hiding-place, and that was all it was best for her toknow. I asked her to go into my room as soon as it was light, and take allmy clothes out of my trunk, and pack them in hers; for I knew Mr. Flint andthe constable would be there early to search my room. I feared the sight ofmy children would be too much for my full heart; but I could not go intothe uncertain future without one last look. I bent over the bed where laymy little Benny and baby Ellen. Poor little ones! fatherless andmotherless! Memories of their father came over me. He wanted to be kind tothem; but they were not all to him, as they were to my womanly heart. Iknelt and prayed for the innocent little sleepers. I kissed them lightly, and turned away. 

As I was about to open the street door, Sally laid her hand on my shoulder, and said, "Linda, is you gwine all alone? Let me call your uncle. "

"No, Sally, " I replied, "I want no one to be brought into trouble on myaccount. "

I went forth into the darkness and rain. I ran on till I came to the houseof the friend who was to conceal me. 

Early the next morning Mr. Flint was at my grandmother's inquiring for me. She told him she had not seen me, and supposed I was at the plantation. Hewatched her face narrowly, and said, "Don't you know any thing about herrunning off?" She assured him that she did not. He went on to say, "Lastnight she ran off without the least provocation. We had treated her verykindly. My wife liked her. She will soon be found and brought back. Are herchildren with you?" When told that they were, he said, "I am very glad tohear that. If they are here, she cannot be far off. If I find out that anyof my niggers have had any thing to do with this damned business, I'll give'em five hundred lashes. " As he started to go to his father's, he turnedround and added, persuasively, "Let her be brought back, and she shall haveher children to live with her. "

The tidings made the old doctor rave and storm at a furious rate. It was abusy day for them. My grandmother's house was searched from top to bottom. As my trunk was empty, they concluded I had taken my clothes with me. Before ten o'clock every vessel northward bound was thoroughly examined, and the law against harboring fugitives was read to all on board. At nighta watch was set over the town. Knowing how distressed my grandmother wouldbe, I wanted to send her a message; but it could not be done. Every one whowent in or out of her house was closely watched. The doctor said he wouldtake my children, unless she became responsible for them; which of courseshe willingly did. The next day was spent in searching. Before night, thefollowing advertisement was posted at every corner, and in every publicplace for miles round:--

$300 REWARD! Ran away from the subscriber, an intelligent, bright, mulattogirl, named Linda, 21 years of age. Five feet four inches high. Dark eyes, and black hair inclined to curl; but it can be made straight. Has a decayedspot on a front tooth. She can read and write, and in all probability willtry to get to the Free States. All persons are forbidden, under penalty oflaw, to harbor or employ said slave. $150 will be given to whoever takesher in the state, and $300 if taken out of the state and delivered to me, or lodged in jail. 

Dr. Flint. 

XVIII. Months Of Peril. 

The search for me was kept up with more perseverence than I hadanticipated. I began to think that escape was impossible. I was in greatanxiety lest I should implicate the friend who harbored me. I knew theconsequences would be frightful; and much as I dreaded being caught, eventhat seemed better than causing an innocent person to suffer for kindnessto me. A week had passed in terrible suspense, when my pursuers came intosuch close vicinity that I concluded they had tracked me to myhiding-place. I flew out of the house, and concealed myself in a thicket ofbushes. There I remained in an agony of fear for two hours. Suddenly, areptile of some kind seized my leg. In my fright, I struck a blow whichloosened its hold, but I could not tell whether I had killed it; it was sodark, I could not see what it was; I only knew it was something cold andslimy. The pain I felt soon indicated that the bite was poisonous. I wascompelled to leave my place of concealment, and I groped my way back intothe house. The pain had become intense, and my friend was startled by mylook of anguish. I asked her to prepare a poultice of warm ashes andvinegar, and I applied it to my leg, which was already much swollen. Theapplication gave me some relief, but the swelling did not abate. The dreadof being disabled was greater than the physical pain I endured. My friendasked an old woman, who doctored among the slaves, what was good for thebite of a snake or a lizard. She told her to steep a dozen coppers invinegar, over night, and apply the cankered vinegar to the inflamedpart. [1]

[Footnote 1: The poison of a snake is a powerful acid, and is counteractedby powerful alkalies, such as potash, ammonia, &c. The Indians areaccustomed to apply wet ashes, or plunge the limb into strong lie. Whitemen, employed to lay out railroads in snaky places, often carry ammoniawith them as an antidote. --EDITOR. ]

I had succeeded in cautiously conveying some messages to my relatives. Theywere harshly threatened, and despairing of my having a chance to escape, they advised me to return to my master, ask his forgiveness, and let himmake an example of me. But such counsel had no influence with me. When Istarted upon this hazardous undertaking, I had resolved that, come whatwould, there should be no turning back. "Give me liberty, or give medeath, " was my motto. When my friend contrived to make known to myrelatives the painful situation I had been in for twenty-four hours, theysaid no more about my going back to my master. Something must be done, andthat speedily; but where to return for help, they knew not. God in hismercy raised up "a friend in need. "

Among the ladies who were acquainted with my grandmother, was one who hadknown her from childhood, and always been very friendly to her. She hadalso known my mother and her children, and felt interested for them. Atthis crisis of affairs she called to see my grandmother, as she notunfrequently did. She observed the sad and troubled expression of her face, and asked if she knew where Linda was, and whether she was safe. Mygrandmother shook her head, without answering. "Come, Aunt Martha, "said the kind lady, "tell me all about it. Perhaps I can do somethingto help you. " The husband of this lady held many slaves, and bought andsold slaves. She also held a number in her own name; but she treatedthem kindly, and would never allow any of them to be sold. She wasunlike the majority of slaveholders' wives. My grandmother lookedearnestly at her. Something in the expression of her face said"Trust me!" and she did trust her. She listened attentively tothe details of my story, and sat thinking for a while. At last she said, "Aunt Martha, I pity you both. If you think there is any chance of Linda'sgetting to the Free States, I will conceal her for a time. But first youmust solemnly promise that my name shall never be mentioned. If such athing should become known, it would ruin me and my family. No one in myhouse must know of it, except the cook. She is so faithful that I wouldtrust my own life with her; and I know she likes Linda. It is a great risk;but I trust no harm will come of it. Get word to Linda to be ready as soonas it is dark, before the patrols are out. I will send the housemaids onerrands, and Betty shall go to meet Linda. " The place where we were to meetwas designated and agreed upon. My grandmother was unable to thank the ladyfor this noble deed; overcome by her emotions, she sank on her knees andsobbed like a child. 

I received a message to leave my friend's house at such an hour, and go toa certain place where a friend would be waiting for me. As a matter ofprudence no names were mentioned. I had no means of conjecturing who I wasto meet, or where I was going. I did not like to move thus blindfolded, butI had no choice. It would not do for me to remain where I was. I disguisedmyself, summoned up courage to meet the worst, and went to the appointedplace. My friend Betty was there; she was the last person I expected tosee. We hurried along in silence. The pain in my leg was so intense that itseemed as if I should drop but fear gave me strength. We reached the houseand entered unobserved. Her first words were: "Honey, now you is safe. Demdevils ain't coming to search _dis_ house. When I get you into missis' safeplace, I will bring some nice hot supper. I specs you need it after all disskeering. " Betty's vocation led her to think eating the most importantthing in life. She did not realize that my heart was too full for me tocare much about supper. 

The mistress came to meet us, and led me up stairs to a small room over herown sleeping apartment. "You will be safe here, Linda, " said she; "I keepthis room to store away things that are out of use. The girls are notaccustomed to be sent to it, and they will not suspect any thing unlessthey hear some noise. I always keep it locked, and Betty shall take care ofthe key. But you must be very careful, for my sake as well as your own; andyou must never tell my secret; for it would ruin me and my family. I willkeep the girls busy in the morning, that Betty may have a chance to bringyour breakfast; but it will not do for her to come to you again till night. I will come to see you sometimes. Keep up your courage. I hope this stateof things will not last long. " Betty came with the "nice hot supper, " andthe mistress hastened down stairs to keep things straight till shereturned. How my heart overflowed with gratitude! Words choked in mythroat; but I could have kissed the feet of my benefactress. For that deedof Christian womanhood, may God forever bless her!

I went to sleep that night with the feeling that I was for the present themost fortunate slave in town. Morning came and filled my little cell withlight. I thanked the heavenly Father for this safe retreat. Opposite mywindow was a pile of feather beds. On the top of these I could lieperfectly concealed, and command a view of the street through which Dr. Flint passed to his office. Anxious as I was, I felt a gleam ofsatisfaction when I saw him. Thus far I had outwitted him, and I triumphedover it. Who can blame slaves for being cunning? They are constantlycompelled to resort to it. It is the only weapon of the weak and oppressedagainst the strength of their tyrants. 

I was daily hoping to hear that my master had sold my children; for I knewwho was on the watch to buy them. But Dr. Flint cared even more for revengethan he did for money. My brother William and the good aunt who had servedin his family twenty years, and my little Benny, and Ellen, who was alittle over two years old, were thrust into jail, as a means of compellingmy relatives to give some information about me. He swore my grandmothershould never see one of them again till I was brought back. They kept thesefacts from me for several days. When I heard that my little ones were in aloathsome jail, my first impulse was to go to them. I was encounteringdangers for the sake of freeing them, and must I be the cause of theirdeath? The thought was agonizing. My benefactress tried to soothe me bytelling me that my aunt would take good care of the children while theyremained in jail. But it added to my pain to think that the good old aunt, who had always been so kind to her sister's orphan children, should be shutup in prison for no other crime than loving them. I suppose my friendsfeared a reckless movement on my part, knowing, as they did, that my lifewas bound up in my children. I received a note from my brother William. Itwas scarcely legible, and ran thus: "Wherever you are, dear sister, I begof you not to come here. We are all much better off than you are. If youcome, you will ruin us all. They would force you to tell where you hadbeen, or they would kill you. Take the advice of your friends; if not forthe sake of me and your children, at least for the sake of those you wouldruin. "

Poor William! He also must suffer for being my brother. I took his adviceand kept quiet. My aunt was taken out of jail at the end of a month, because Mrs. Flint could not spare her any longer. She was tired of beingher own housekeeper. It was quite too fatiguing to order her dinner and eatit too. My children remained in jail, where brother William did all hecould for their comfort. Betty went to see them sometimes, and brought metidings. She was not permitted to enter the jail; but William would holdthem up to the grated window while she chatted with them. When she repeatedtheir prattle, and told me how they wanted to see their ma, my tears wouldflow. Old Betty would exclaim, "Lors, chile! what's you crying 'bout? Demyoung uns vil kill you dead. Don't be so chick'n hearted! If you does, youvil nebber git thro' dis world. "

Good old soul! She had gone through the world childless. She had never hadlittle ones to clasp their arms round her neck; she had never seen theirsoft eyes looking into hers; no sweet little voices had called her mother;she had never pressed her own infants to her heart, with the feeling thateven in fetters there was something to live for. How could she realize myfeelings? Betty's husband loved children dearly, and wondered why God haddenied them to him. He expressed great sorrow when he came to Betty withthe tidings that Ellen had been taken out of jail and carried to Dr. Flint's. She had the measles a short time before they carried her to jail, and the disease had left her eyes affected. The doctor had taken her hometo attend to them. My children had always been afraid of the doctor and hiswife. They had never been inside of their house. Poor little Ellen criedall day to be carried back to prison. The instincts of childhood are true. She knew she was loved in the jail. Her screams and sobs annoyed Mrs. Flint. Before night she called one of the slaves, and said, "Here, Bill, carry this brat back to the jail. I can't stand her noise. If she would bequiet I should like to keep the little minx. She would make a handywaiting-maid for my daughter by and by. But if she staid here, with herwhite face, I suppose I should either kill her or spoil her. I hope thedoctor will sell them as far as wind and water can carry them. As for theirmother, her ladyship will find out yet what she gets by running away. Shehasn't so much feeling for her children as a cow has for its calf. If shehad, she would have come back long ago, to get them out of jail, and saveall this expense and trouble. The good-for-nothing hussy! When she iscaught, she shall stay in jail, in irons, for one six months, and then besold to a sugar plantation. I shall see her broke in yet. What do you standthere for, Bill? Why don't you go off with the brat? Mind, now, that youdon't let any of the niggers speak to her in the street!"

When these remarks were reported to me, I smiled at Mrs. Flint's sayingthat she should either kill my child or spoil her. I thought to myselfthere was very little danger of the latter. I have always considered it asone of God's special providences that Ellen screamed till she was carriedback to jail. 

That same night Dr. Flint was called to a patient, and did not return tillnear morning. Passing my grandmother's, he saw a light in the house, andthought to himself, "Perhaps this has something to do with Linda. " Heknocked, and the door was opened. "What calls you up so early?" said he. "Isaw your light, and I thought I would just stop and tell you that I havefound out where Linda is. I know where to put my hands on her, and I shallhave her before twelve o'clock. " When he had turned away, my grandmotherand my uncle looked anxiously at each other. They did not know whether ornot it was merely one of the doctor's tricks to frighten them. In theiruncertainty, they thought it was best to have a message conveyed to myfriend Betty. Unwilling to alarm her mistress, Betty resolved to dispose ofme herself. She came to me, and told me to rise and dress quickly. Wehurried down stairs, and across the yard, into the kitchen. She locked thedoor, and lifted up a plank in the floor. A buffalo skin and a bit ofcarpet were spread for me to lie on, and a quilt thrown over me. "Staydar, " said she, "till I sees if dey know 'bout you. Dey say dey vil putthar hans on you afore twelve o'clock. If dey _did_ know whar you are, deywon't know _now_. Dey'll be disapinted dis time. Dat's all I got to say. Ifdey comes rummagin 'mong _my_ tings, de'll get one bressed sarssin from dis'ere nigger. " In my shallow bed I had but just room enough to bring myhands to my face to keep the dust out of my eyes; for Betty walked over metwenty times in an hour, passing from the dresser to the fireplace. Whenshe was alone, I could hear her pronouncing anathemas over Dr. Flint andall his tribe, every now and then saying, with a chuckling laugh, "Disnigger's too cute for 'em dis time. " When the housemaids were about, shehad sly ways of drawing them out, that I might hear what they would say. She would repeat stories she had heard about my being in this, or that, orthe other place. To which they would answer, that I was not fool enough tobe staying round there; that I was in Philadelphia or New York before thistime. When all were abed and asleep, Betty raised the plank, and said, "Come out, chile; come out. Dey don't know nottin 'bout you. Twas onlywhite folks' lies, to skeer de niggers. "

Some days after this adventure I had a much worse fright. As I sat verystill in my retreat above stairs, cheerful visions floated through my mind. I thought Dr. Flint would soon get discouraged, and would be willing tosell my children, when he lost all hopes of making them the means of mydiscovery. I knew who was ready to buy them. Suddenly I heard a voice thatchilled my blood. The sound was too familiar to me, it had been toodreadful, for me not to recognize at once my old master. He was in thehouse, and I at once concluded he had come to seize me. I looked round interror. There was no way of escape. The voice receded. I supposed theconstable was with him, and they were searching the house. In my alarm Idid not forget the trouble I was bringing on my generous benefactress. Itseemed as if I were born to bring sorrow on all who befriended me, and thatwas the bitterest drop in the bitter cup of my life. After a while I heardapproaching footsteps; the key was turned in my door. I braced myselfagainst the wall to keep from falling. I ventured to look up, and therestood my kind benefactress alone. I was too much overcome to speak, andsunk down upon the floor. 

"I thought you would hear your master's voice, " she said; "and knowing youwould be terrified, I came to tell you there is nothing to fear. You mayeven indulge in a laugh at the old gentleman's expense. He is so sure youare in New York, that he came to borrow five hundred dollars to go inpursuit of you. My sister had some money to loan on interest. He hasobtained it, and proposes to start for New York to-night. So, for thepresent, you see you are safe. The doctor will merely lighten his pockethunting after the bird he has left behind. "

XIX. The Children Sold. 

The Doctor came back from New York, of course without accomplishing hispurpose. He had expended considerable money, and was rather disheartened. My brother and the children had now been in jail two months, and that alsowas some expense. My friends thought it was a favorable time to work on hisdiscouraged feelings. Mr. Sands sent a speculator to offer him nine hundreddollars for my brother William, and eight hundred for the two children. These were high prices, as slaves were then selling; but the offer wasrejected. If it had been merely a question of money, the doctor would havesold any boy of Benny's age for two hundred dollars; but he could not bearto give up the power of revenge. But he was hard pressed for money, and herevolved the matter in his mind. He knew that if he could keep Ellen tillshe was fifteen, he could sell her for a high price; but I presume hereflected that she might die, or might be stolen away. At all events, hecame to the conclusion that he had better accept the slave-trader's offer. Meeting him in the street, he inquired when he would leave town. "To-day, at ten o'clock, " he replied. "Ah, do you go so soon?" said the doctor. "Ihave been reflecting upon your proposition, and I have concluded to let youhave the three negroes if you will say nineteen hundred dollars. " Aftersome parley, the trader agreed to his terms. He wanted the bill of saledrawn up and signed immediately, as he had a great deal to attend to duringthe short time he remained in town. The doctor went to the jail and toldWilliam he would take him back into his service if he would promise tobehave himself but he replied that he would rather be sold. "And you_shall_ be sold, you ungrateful rascal!" exclaimed the doctor. In less thanan hour the money was paid, the papers were signed, sealed, and delivered, and my brother and children were in the hands of the trader. 

It was a hurried transaction; and after it was over, the doctor'scharacteristic caution returned. He went back to the speculator, and said, "Sir, I have come to lay you under obligations of a thousand dollars not tosell any of those negroes in this state. " "You come too late, " replied thetrader; "our bargain is closed. " He had, in fact, already sold them to Mr. Sands, but he did not mention it. The doctor required him to put irons on"that rascal, Bill, " and to pass through the back streets when he took hisgang out of town. The trader was privately instructed to concede to hiswishes. My good old aunt went to the jail to bid the children good by, supposing them to be the speculator's property, and that she should neversee them again. As she held Benny in her lap, he said, "Aunt Nancy, I wantto show you something. " He led her to the door and showed her a long row ofmarks, saying, "Uncle Will taught me to count. I have made a mark for everyday I have been here, and it is sixty days. It is a long time; and thespeculator is going to take me and Ellen away. He's a bad man. It's wrongfor him to take grandmother's children. I want to go to my mother. "

My grandmother was told that the children would be restored to her, but shewas requested to act as if they were really to be sent away. Accordingly, she made up a bundle of clothes and went to the jail. When she arrived, shefound William handcuffed among the gang, and the children in the trader'scart. The scene seemed too much like reality. She was afraid there mighthave been some deception or mistake. She fainted, and was carried home. 

When the wagon stopped at the hotel, several gentlemen came out andproposed to purchase William, but the trader refused their offers, withoutstating that he was already sold. And now came the trying hour for thatdrove of human beings, driven away like cattle, to be sold they knew notwhere. Husbands were torn from wives, parents from children, never to lookupon each other again this side the grave. There was wringing of hands andcries of despair. 

Dr. Flint had the supreme satisfaction of seeing the wagon leave town, andMrs. Flint had the gratification of supposing that my children were going"as far as wind and water would carry them. " According to agreement, myuncle followed the wagon some miles, until they came to an old farm house. There the trader took the irons from William, and as he did so, he said, "You are a damned clever fellow. I should like to own you myself. Themgentlemen that wanted to buy you said you was a bright, honest chap, and Imust git you a good home. I guess your old master will swear to-morrow, andcall himself an old fool for selling the children. I reckon he'll never gittheir mammy back again. I expect she's made tracks for the north. Good by, old boy. Remember, I have done you a good turn. You must thank me bycoaxing all the pretty gals to go with me next fall. That's going to be mylast trip. This trading in niggers is a bad business for a fellow that'sgot any heart. Move on, you fellows!" And the gang went on, God alone knowswhere. 

Much as I despise and detest the class of slave-traders, whom I regard asthe vilest wretches on earth, I must do this man the justice to say that heseemed to have some feeling. He took a fancy to William in the jail, andwanted to buy him. When he heard the story of my children, he was willingto aid them in getting out of Dr. Flint's power, even without charging thecustomary fee. 

My uncle procured a wagon and carried William and the children back totown. Great was the joy in my grandmother's house! The curtains wereclosed, and the candles lighted. The happy grandmother cuddled the littleones to her bosom. They hugged her, and kissed her, and clapped theirhands, and shouted. She knelt down and poured forth one of her heartfeltprayers of thanksgiving to God. The father was present for a while; andthough such a "parental relation" as existed between him and my childrentakes slight hold on the hearts or consciences of slaveholders, it must bethat he experienced some moments of pure joy in witnessing the happiness hehad imparted. 

I had no share in the rejoicings of that evening. The events of the day hadnot come to my knowledge. And now I will tell you something that happenedto me; though you will, perhaps, think it illustrates the superstition ofslaves. I sat in my usual place on the floor near the window, where I couldhear much that was said in the street without being seen. The family hadretired for the night, and all was still. I sat there thinking of mychildren, when I heard a low strain of music. A band of serenaders wereunder the window, playing "Home, sweet home. " I listened till the soundsdid not seem like music, but like the moaning of children. It seemed as ifmy heart would burst. I rose from my sitting posture, and knelt. A streakof moonlight was on the floor before me, and in the midst of it appearedthe forms of my two children. They vanished; but I had seen themdistinctly. Some will call it a dream, others a vision. I know not how toaccount for it, but it made a strong impression on my mind, and I feltcertain something had happened to my little ones. 

I had not seen Betty since morning. Now I heard her softly turning the key. As soon as she entered, I clung to her, and begged her to let me knowwhether my children were dead, or whether they were sold; for I had seentheir spirits in my room, and I was sure something had happened to them. "Lor, chile, " said she, putting her arms round me, "you's got dehigh-sterics. I'll sleep wid you to-night, 'cause you'll make a noise, andruin missis. Something has stirred you up mightily. When you is done cryin, I'll talk wid you. De chillern is well, and mighty happy. I seed 'emmyself. Does dat satisfy you? Dar, chile, be still! Somebody vill hearyou. " I tried to obey her. She lay down, and was soon sound asleep; but nosleep would come to my eyelids. 

At dawn, Betty was up and off to the kitchen. The hours passed on, and thevision of the night kept constantly recurring to my thoughts. After a whileI heard the voices of two women in the entry. In one of them I recognizedthe housemaid. The other said to her, "Did you know Linda Brent's childrenwas sold to the speculator yesterday. They say ole massa Flint was mightyglad to see 'em drove out of town; but they say they've come back agin. I'spect it's all their daddy's doings. They say he's bought William too. Lor! how it will take hold of ole massa Flint! I'm going roun' to auntMarthy's to see 'bout it. "

I bit my lips till the blood came to keep from crying out. Were my childrenwith their grandmother, or had the speculator carried them off? Thesuspense was dreadful. Would Betty _never_ come, and tell me the truthabout it? At last she came, and I eagerly repeated what I had overheard. Her face was one broad, bright smile. "Lor, you foolish ting!" said she. "I'se gwine to tell you all 'bout it. De gals is eating thar breakfast, andmissus tole me to let her tell you; but, poor creeter! t'aint right to keepyou waitin', and I'se gwine to tell you. Brudder, chillern, all is boughtby de daddy! I'se laugh more dan nuff, tinking 'bout ole massa Flint. Lor, how he _vill_ swar! He's got ketched dis time, any how; but I must begetting out o' dis, or dem gals vill come and ketch _me_. "

Betty went off laughing; and I said to myself, "Can it be true that mychildren are free? I have not suffered for them in vain. Thank God!"

Great surprise was expressed when it was known that my children hadreturned to their grandmother's. The news spread through the town, and manya kind word was bestowed on the little ones. 

Dr. Flint went to my grandmother's to ascertain who was the owner of mychildren, and she informed him. "I expected as much, " said he. "I am gladto hear it. I have had news from Linda lately, and I shall soon have her. You need never expect to see _her_ free. She shall be my slave as long as Ilive, and when I am dead she shall be the slave of my children. If I everfind out that you or Phillip had anything to do with her running off I'llkill him. And if I meet William in the street, and he presumes to look atme, I'll flog him within an inch of his life. Keep those brats out of mysight!"

As he turned to leave, my grandmother said something to remind him of hisown doings. He looked back upon her, as if he would have been glad tostrike her to the ground. 

I had my season of joy and thanksgiving. It was the first time since mychildhood that I had experienced any real happiness. I heard of the olddoctor's threats, but they no longer had the same power to trouble me. Thedarkest cloud that hung over my life had rolled away. Whatever slaverymight do to me, it could not shackle my children. If I fell a sacrifice, mylittle ones were saved. It was well for me that my simple heart believedall that had been promised for their welfare. It is always better to trustthan to doubt. 

XX. New Perils. 

The doctor, more exasperated than ever, again tried to revenge himself onmy relatives. He arrested uncle Phillip on the charge of having aided myflight. He was carried before a court, and swore truly that he knew nothingof my intention to escape, and that he had not seen me since I left mymaster's plantation. The doctor then demanded that he should give bail forfive hundred dollars that he would have nothing to do with me. Severalgentlemen offered to be security for him; but Mr. Sands told him he hadbetter go back to jail, and he would see that he came out without givingbail. 

The news of his arrest was carried to my grandmother, who conveyed it toBetty. In the kindness of her heart, she again stowed me away under thefloor; and as she walked back and forth, in the performance of her culinaryduties, she talked apparently to herself, but with the intention that Ishould hear what was going on. I hoped that my uncle's imprisonment wouldlast but few days; still I was anxious. I thought it likely Dr. Flint woulddo his utmost to taunt and insult him, and I was afraid my uncle might losecontrol of himself, and retort in some way that would be construed into apunishable offence; and I was well aware that in court his word would notbe taken against any white man's. The search for me was renewed. Somethinghad excited suspicions that I was in the vicinity. They searched the houseI was in. I heard their steps and their voices. At night, when all wereasleep, Betty came to release me from my place of confinement. The fright Ihad undergone, the constrained posture, and the dampness of the ground, made me ill for several days. My uncle was soon after taken out of prison;but the movements of all my relatives, and of all our friends, were veryclosely watched. 

We all saw that I could not remain where I was much longer. I had alreadystaid longer than was intended, and I knew my presence must be a source ofperpetual anxiety to my kind benefactress. During this time, my friends hadlaid many plans for my escape, but the extreme vigilance of my persecutorsmade it impossible to carry them into effect. 

One morning I was much startled by hearing somebody trying to get into myroom. Several keys were tried, but none fitted. I instantly conjectured itwas one of the housemaids; and I concluded she must either have heard somenoise in the room, or have noticed the entrance of Betty. When my friendcame, at her usual time, I told her what had happened. "I knows who itwas, " said she. "Tend upon it, 'twas dat Jenny. Dat nigger allers got dedebble in her. " I suggested that she might have seen or heard somethingthat excited her curiosity. 

"Tut! tut! chile!" exclaimed Betty, "she ain't seen notin', nor hearnnotin'. She only 'spects something. Dat's all. She wants to fine out whohab cut and make my gownd. But she won't nebber know. Dat's sartin. I'llgit missis to fix her. "

I reflected a moment, and said, "Betty, I must leave here to-night. "

"Do as you tink best, poor chile, " she replied. "I'se mighty 'fraid dat'ere nigger vill pop on you some time. "

She reported the incident to her mistress, and received orders to keepJenny busy in the kitchen till she could see my uncle Phillip. He told herhe would send a friend for me that very evening. She told him she hoped Iwas going to the north, for it was very dangerous for me to remain anywhere in the vicinity. Alas, it was not an easy thing, for one in mysituation, to go to the north. In order to leave the coast quite clear forme, she went into the country to spend the day with her brother, and tookJenny with her. She was afraid to come and bid me good by, but she left akind message with Betty. I heard her carriage roll from the door, and Inever again saw her who had so generously befriended the poor, tremblingfugitive! Though she was a slaveholder, to this day my heart blesses her!

I had not the slightest idea where I was going. Betty brought me a suit ofsailor's clothes, --jacket, trowsers, and tarpaulin hat. She gave me a smallbundle, saying I might need it where I was going. In cheery tones, sheexclaimed, "I'se _so_ glad you is gwine to free parts! Don't forget oleBetty. P'raps I'll come 'long by and by. "

I tried to tell her how grateful I felt for all her kindness. But sheinterrupted me. "I don't want no tanks, honey. I'se glad I could help you, and I hope de good Lord vill open de path for you. I'se gwine wid you to delower gate. Put your hands in your pockets, and walk ricketty, like desailors. "

I performed to her satisfaction. At the gate I found Peter, a young coloredman, waiting for me. I had known him for years. He had been an apprenticeto my father, and had always borne a good character. I was not afraid totrust to him. Betty bade me a hurried good by, and we walked off. "Takecourage, Linda, " said my friend Peter. "I've got a dagger, and no man shalltake you from me, unless he passes over my dead body. "

It was a long time since I had taken a walk out of doors, and the fresh airrevived me. It was also pleasant to hear a human voice speaking to me abovea whisper. I passed several people whom I knew, but they did not recognizeme in my disguise. I prayed internally that, for Peter's sake, as well asmy own, nothing might occur to bring out his dagger. We walked on till wecame to the wharf. My aunt Nancy's husband was a seafaring man, and it hadbeen deemed necessary to let him into our secret. He took me into his boat, rowed out to a vessel not far distant, and hoisted me on board. We threewere the only occupants of the vessel. I now ventured to ask what theyproposed to do with me. They said I was to remain on board till near dawn, and then they would hide me in Snaky Swamp, till my uncle Phillip hadprepared a place of concealment for me. If the vessel had been bound north, it would have been of no avail to me, for it would certainly have beensearched. About four o'clock, we were again seated in the boat, and rowedthree miles to the swamp. My fear of snakes had been increased by thevenomous bite I had received, and I dreaded to enter this hiding place. ButI was in no situation to choose, and I gratefully accepted the best that mypoor, persecuted friends could do for me. 

Peter landed first, and with a large knife cut a path through bamboos andbriers of all descriptions. He came back, took me in his arms, and carriedme to a seat made among the bamboos. Before we reached it, we were coveredwith hundreds of mosquitos. In an hour's time they had so poisoned my fleshthat I was a pitiful sight to behold. As the light increased, I saw snakeafter snake crawling round us. I had been accustomed to the sight of snakesall my life, but these were larger than any I had ever seen. To this day Ishudder when I remember that morning. As evening approached, the number ofsnakes increased so much that we were continually obliged to thrash themwith sticks to keep them from crawling over us. The bamboos were so highand so thick that it was impossible to see beyond a very short distance. Just before it became dark we procured a seat nearer to the entrance of theswamp, being fearful of losing our way back to the boat. It was not longbefore we heard the paddle of oars, and the low whistle, which had beenagreed upon as a signal. We made haste to enter the boat, and were rowedback to the vessel. I passed a wretched night; for the heat of the swamp, the mosquitos, and the constant terror of snakes, had brought on a burningfever. I had just dropped asleep, when they came and told me it was time togo back to that horrid swamp. I could scarcely summon courage to rise. Buteven those large, venomous snakes were less dreadful to my imagination thanthe white men in that community called civilized. This time Peter took aquantity of tobacco to burn, to keep off the mosquitos. It produced thedesired effect on them, but gave me nausea and severe headache. At dark wereturned to the vessel. I had been so sick during the day, that Peterdeclared I should go home that night, if the devil himself was on patrol. They told me a place of concealment had been provided for me at mygrandmother's. I could not imagine how it was possible to hide me in herhouse, every nook and corner of which was known to the Flint family. Theytold me to wait and see. We were rowed ashore, and went boldly through thestreets, to my grandmother's. I wore my sailor's clothes, and had blackenedmy face with charcoal. I passed several people whom I knew. The father ofmy children came so near that I brushed against his arm; but he had no ideawho it was. 

"You must make the most of this walk, " said my friend Peter, "for you maynot have another very soon. "

I thought his voice sounded sad. It was kind of him to conceal from me whata dismal hole was to be my home for a long, long time. 

XXI. The Loophole Of Retreat. 

A small shed had been added to my grandmother's house years ago. Someboards were laid across the joists at the top, and between these boards andthe roof was a very small garret, never occupied by any thing but rats andmice. It was a pent roof, covered with nothing but shingles, according tothe southern custom for such buildings. The garret was only nine feet longand seven wide. The highest part was three feet high, and sloped downabruptly to the loose board floor. There was no admission for either lightor air. My uncle Phillip, who was a carpenter, had very skilfully made aconcealed trap-door, which communicated with the storeroom. He had beendoing this while I was waiting in the swamp. The storeroom opened upon apiazza. To this hole I was conveyed as soon as I entered the house. The airwas stifling; the darkness total. A bed had been spread on the floor. Icould sleep quite comfortably on one side; but the slope was so sudden thatI could not turn on my other without hitting the roof. The rats and miceran over my bed; but I was weary, and I slept such sleep as the wretchedmay, when a tempest has passed over them. Morning came. I knew it only bythe noises I heard; for in my small den day and night were all the same. Isuffered for air even more than for light. But I was not comfortless. Iheard the voices of my children. There was joy and there was sadness in thesound. It made my tears flow. How I longed to speak to them! I was eager tolook on their faces; but there was no hole, no crack, through which I couldpeep. This continued darkness was oppressive. It seemed horrible to sit orlie in a cramped position day after day, without one gleam of light. Yet Iwould have chosen this, rather than my lot as a slave, though white peopleconsidered it an easy one; and it was so compared with the fate of others. I was never cruelly overworked; I was never lacerated with the whip fromhead to foot; I was never so beaten and bruised that I could not turn fromone side to the other; I never had my heel-strings cut to prevent myrunning away; I was never chained to a log and forced to drag it about, while I toiled in the fields from morning till night; I was never brandedwith hot iron, or torn by bloodhounds. On the contrary, I had always beenkindly treated, and tenderly cared for, until I came into the hands of Dr. Flint. I had never wished for freedom till then. But though my life inslavery was comparatively devoid of hardships, God pity the woman who iscompelled to lead such a life!

My food was passed up to me through the trap-door my uncle had contrived;and my grandmother, my uncle Phillip, and aunt Nancy would seize suchopportunities as they could, to mount up there and chat with me at theopening. But of course this was not safe in the daytime. It must all bedone in darkness. It was impossible for me to move in an erect position, but I crawled about my den for exercise. One day I hit my head againstsomething, and found it was a gimlet. My uncle had left it sticking therewhen he made the trap-door. I was as rejoiced as Robinson Crusoe could havebeen at finding such a treasure. It put a lucky thought into my head. Isaid to myself, "Now I will have some light. Now I will see my children. " Idid not dare to begin my work during the daytime, for fear of attractingattention. But I groped round; and having found the side next the street, where I could frequently see my children, I stuck the gimlet in and waitedfor evening. I bored three rows of holes, one above another; then I boredout the interstices between. I thus succeeded in making one hole about aninch long and an inch broad. I sat by it till late into the night, to enjoythe little whiff of air that floated in. In the morning I watched for mychildren. The first person I saw in the street was Dr. Flint. I had ashuddering, superstitious feeling that it was a bad omen. Several familiarfaces passed by. At last I heard the merry laugh of children, and presentlytwo sweet little faces were looking up at me, as though they knew I wasthere, and were conscious of the joy they imparted. How I longed to _tell_them I was there!

My condition was now a little improved. But for weeks I was tormented byhundreds of little red insects, fine as a needle's point, that piercedthrough my skin, and produced an intolerable burning. The good grandmothergave me herb teas and cooling medicines, and finally I got rid of them. Theheat of my den was intense, for nothing but thin shingles protected me fromthe scorching summer's sun. But I had my consolations. Through mypeeping-hole I could watch the children, and when they were near enough, Icould hear their talk. Aunt Nancy brought me all the news she could hear atDr. Flint's. From her I learned that the doctor had written to New York toa colored woman, who had been born and raised in our neighborhood, and hadbreathed his contaminating atmosphere. He offered her a reward if she couldfind out any thing about me. I know not what was the nature of her reply;but he soon after started for New York in haste, saying to his family thathe had business of importance to transact. I peeped at him as he passed onhis way to the steamboat. It was a satisfaction to have miles of land andwater between us, even for a little while; and it was a still greatersatisfaction to know that he believed me to be in the Free States. Mylittle den seemed less dreary than it had done. He returned, as he did fromhis former journey to New York, without obtaining any satisfactoryinformation. When he passed our house next morning, Benny was standing atthe gate. He had heard them say that he had gone to find me, and he calledout, "Dr. Flint, did you bring my mother home? I want to see her. " Thedoctor stamped his foot at him in a rage, and exclaimed, "Get out of theway, you little damned rascal! If you don't, I'll cut off your head. "

Benny ran terrified into the house, saying, "You can't put me in jailagain. I don't belong to you now. " It was well that the wind carried thewords away from the doctor's ear. I told my grandmother of it, when we hadour next conference at the trap-door, and begged of her not to allow thechildren to be impertinent to the irascible old man. 

Autumn came, with a pleasant abatement of heat. My eyes had becomeaccustomed to the dim light, and by holding my book or work in a certainposition near the aperture I contrived to read and sew. That was a greatrelief to the tedious monotony of my life. But when winter came, the coldpenetrated through the thin shingle roof, and I was dreadfully chilled. Thewinters there are not so long, or so severe, as in northern latitudes; butthe houses are not built to shelter from cold, and my little den waspeculiarly comfortless. The kind grandmother brought me bedclothes and warmdrinks. Often I was obliged to lie in bed all day to keep comfortable; butwith all my precautions, my shoulders and feet were frostbitten. O, thoselong, gloomy days, with no object for my eye to rest upon, and no thoughtsto occupy my mind, except the dreary past and the uncertain future! I wasthankful when there came a day sufficiently mild for me to wrap myself upand sit at the loophole to watch the passers by. Southerners have the habitof stopping and talking in the streets, and I heard many conversations notintended to meet my ears. I heard slave-hunters planning how to catch somepoor fugitive. Several times I heard allusions to Dr. Flint, myself, andthe history of my children, who, perhaps, were playing near the gate. Onewould say, "I wouldn't move my little finger to catch her, as old Flint'sproperty. " Another would say, "I'll catch _any_ nigger for the reward. Aman ought to have what belongs to him, if he _is_ a damned brute. " Theopinion was often expressed that I was in the Free States. Very rarely didany one suggest that I might be in the vicinity. Had the least suspicionrested on my grandmother's house, it would have been burned to the ground. But it was the last place they thought of. Yet there was no place, whereslavery existed, that could have afforded me so good a place ofconcealment. 

Dr. Flint and his family repeatedly tried to coax and bribe my children totell something they had heard said about me. One day the doctor took theminto a shop, and offered them some bright little silver pieces and gayhandkerchiefs if they would tell where their mother was. Ellen shrank awayfrom him, and would not speak; but Benny spoke up, and said, "Dr. Flint, Idon't know where my mother is. I guess she's in New York; and when you gothere again, I wish you'd ask her to come home, for I want to see her; butif you put her in jail, or tell her you'll cut her head off, I'll tell herto go right back. "

XXII. Christmas Festivities. 

Christmas was approaching. Grandmother brought me materials, and I busiedmyself making some new garments and little playthings for my children. Wereit not that hiring day is near at hand, and many families are fearfullylooking forward to the probability of separation in a few days, Christmasmight be a happy season for the poor slaves. Even slave mothers try togladden the hearts of their little ones on that occasion. Benny and Ellenhad their Christmas stockings filled. Their imprisoned mother could nothave the privilege of witnessing their surprise and joy. But I had thepleasure of peeping at them as they went into the street with their newsuits on. I heard Benny ask a little playmate whether Santa Claus broughthim any thing. "Yes, " replied the boy; "but Santa Claus ain't a real man. It's the children's mothers that put things into the stockings. " "No, thatcan't be, " replied Benny, "for Santa Claus brought Ellen and me these newclothes, and my mother has been gone this long time. "

How I longed to tell him that his mother made those garments, and that manya tear fell on them while she worked!

Every child rises early on Christmas morning to see the Johnkannaus. Without them, Christmas would be shorn of its greatest attraction. Theyconsist of companies of slaves from the plantations, generally of the lowerclass. Two athletic men, in calico wrappers, have a net thrown over them, covered with all manner of bright-colored stripes. Cows' tails are fastenedto their backs, and their heads are decorated with horns. A box, coveredwith sheepskin, is called the gumbo box. A dozen beat on this, while otherstrike triangles and jawbones, to which bands of dancers keep time. For amonth previous they are composing songs, which are sung on this occasion. These companies, of a hundred each, turn out early in the morning, and areallowed to go round till twelve o'clock, begging for contributions. Not adoor is left unvisited where there is the least chance of obtaining a pennyor a glass of rum. They do not drink while they are out, but carry the rumhome in jugs, to have a carousal. These Christmas donations frequentlyamount to twenty or thirty dollars. It is seldom that any white man orchild refuses to give them a trifle. If he does, they regale his ears withthe following song:--

 Poor massa, so dey say; Down in de heel, so dey say; Got no money, so dey say; Not one shillin, so dey say; God A'mighty bress you, so dey say. 

Christmas is a day of feasting, both with white and colored people. Slaves, who are lucky enough to have a few shillings, are sure to spend them forgood eating; and many a turkey and pig is captured, without saying, "Byyour leave, sir. " Those who cannot obtain these, cook a 'possum, or araccoon, from which savory dishes can be made. My grandmother raisedpoultry and pigs for sale and it was her established custom to have both aturkey and a pig roasted for Christmas dinner. 

On this occasion, I was warned to keep extremely quiet, because two guestshad been invited. One was the town constable, and the other was a freecolored man, who tried to pass himself off for white, and who was alwaysready to do any mean work for the sake of currying favor with white people. My grandmother had a motive for inviting them. She managed to take them allover the house. All the rooms on the lower floor were thrown open for themto pass in and out; and after dinner, they were invited up stairs to lookat a fine mocking bird my uncle had just brought home. There, too, therooms were all thrown open that they might look in. When I heard themtalking on the piazza, my heart almost stood still. I knew this colored manhad spent many nights hunting for me. Every body knew he had the blood of aslave father in his veins; but for the sake of passing himself off forwhite, he was ready to kiss the slaveholders' feet. How I despised him! Asfor the constable, he wore no false colors. The duties of his office weredespicable, but he was superior to his companion, inasmuch as he did notpretend to be what he was not. Any white man, who could raise money enoughto buy a slave, would have considered himself degraded by being aconstable; but the office enabled its possessor to exercise authority. Ifhe found any slave out after nine o'clock, he could whip him as much as heliked; and that was a privilege to be coveted. When the guests were readyto depart, my grandmother gave each of them some of her nice pudding, as apresent for their wives. Through my peep-hole I saw them go out of thegate, and I was glad when it closed after them. So passed the firstChristmas in my den. 

XXIII. Still In Prison. 

When spring returned, and I took in the little patch of green the aperturecommanded, I asked myself how many more summers and winters I must becondemned to spend thus. I longed to draw in a plentiful draught of freshair, to stretch my cramped limbs, to have room to stand erect, to feel theearth under my feet again. My relatives were constantly on the lookout fora chance of escape; but none offered that seemed practicable, and eventolerably safe. The hot summer came again, and made the turpentine dropfrom the thin roof over my head. 

During the long nights I was restless for want of air, and I had no room totoss and turn. There was but one compensation; the atmosphere was sostifled that even mosquitos would not condescend to buzz in it. With all mydetestation of Dr. Flint, I could hardly wish him a worse punishment, either in this world or that which is to come, than to suffer what Isuffered in one single summer. Yet the laws allowed _him_ to be out in thefree air, while I, guiltless of crime, was pent up here, as the only meansof avoiding the cruelties the laws allowed him to inflict upon me! I don'tknow what kept life within me. Again and again, I thought I should diebefore long; but I saw the leaves of another autumn whirl through the air, and felt the touch of another winter. In summer the most terrible thunderstorms were acceptable, for the rain came through the roof, and I rolled upmy bed that it might cool the hot boards under it. Later in the season, storms sometimes wet my clothes through and through, and that was notcomfortable when the air grew chilly. Moderate storms I could keep out byfilling the chinks with oakum. 

But uncomfortable as my situation was, I had glimpses of things out ofdoors, which made me thankful for my wretched hiding-place. One day I saw aslave pass our gate, muttering, "It's his own, and he can kill it if hewill. " My grandmother told me that woman's history. Her mistress had thatday seen her baby for the first time, and in the lineaments of its fairface she saw a likeness to her husband. She turned the bondwoman and herchild out of doors, and forbade her ever to return. The slave went to hermaster, and told him what had happened. He promised to talk with hermistress, and make it all right. The next day she and her baby were sold toa Georgia trader. 

Another time I saw a woman rush wildly by, pursued by two men. She was aslave, the wet nurse of her mistress's children. For some trifling offenceher mistress ordered her to be stripped and whipped. To escape thedegradation and the torture, she rushed to the river, jumped in, and endedher wrongs in death. 

Senator Brown, of Mississippi, could not be ignorant of many such facts asthese, for they are of frequent occurrence in every Southern State. Yet hestood up in the Congress of the United States, and declared that slaverywas "a great moral, social, and political blessing; a blessing to themaster, and a blessing to the slave!"

I suffered much more during the second winter than I did during the first. My limbs were benumbed by inaction, and the cold filled them with cramp. Ihad a very painful sensation of coldness in my head; even my face andtongue stiffened, and I lost the power of speech. Of course it wasimpossible, under the circumstances, to summon any physician. My brotherWilliam came and did all he could for me. Uncle Phillip also watchedtenderly over me; and poor grandmother crept up and down to inquire whetherthere were any signs of returning life. I was restored to consciousness bythe dashing of cold water in my face, and found myself leaning against mybrother's arm, while he bent over me with streaming eyes. He afterwardstold me he thought I was dying, for I had been in an unconscious statesixteen hours. I next became delirious, and was in great danger ofbetraying myself and my friends. To prevent this, they stupefied me withdrugs. I remained in bed six weeks, weary in body and sick at heart. How toget medical advice was the question. William finally went to a Thompsoniandoctor, and described himself as having all my pains and aches. He returnedwith herbs, roots, and ointment. He was especially charged to rub on theointment by a fire; but how could a fire be made in my little den? Charcoalin a furnace was tried, but there was no outlet for the gas, and it nearlycost me my life. Afterwards coals, already kindled, were brought up in aniron pan, and placed on bricks. I was so weak, and it was so long since Ihad enjoyed the warmth of a fire, that those few coals actually made meweep. I think the medicines did me some good; but my recovery was veryslow. Dark thoughts passed through my mind as I lay there day after day. Itried to be thankful for my little cell, dismal as it was, and even to loveit, as part of the price I had paid for the redemption of my children. Sometimes I thought God was a compassionate Father, who would forgive mysins for the sake of my sufferings. At other times, it seemed to me therewas no justice or mercy in the divine government. I asked why the curse ofslavery was permitted to exist, and why I had been so persecuted andwronged from youth upward. These things took the shape of mystery, which isto this day not so clear to my soul as I trust it will be hereafter. 

In the midst of my illness, grandmother broke down under the weight andanxiety and toil. The idea of losing her, who had always been my bestfriend and a mother to my children, was the sorest trial I had yet had. O, how earnestly I prayed that she might recover! How hard it seemed, that Icould not tend upon her, who had so long and so tenderly watched over me!

One day the screams of a child nerved me with strength to crawl to mypeeping-hole, and I saw my son covered with blood. A fierce dog, usuallykept chained, had seized and bitten him. A doctor was sent for, and I heardthe groans and screams of my child while the wounds were being sewed up. O, what torture to a mother's heart, to listen to this and be unable to go tohim!

But childhood is like a day in spring, alternately shower and sunshine. Before night Benny was bright and lively, threatening the destruction ofthe dog; and great was his delight when the doctor told him the next daythat the dog had bitten another boy and been shot. Benny recovered from hiswounds; but it was long before he could walk. 

When my grandmother's illness became known, many ladies, who were hercustomers, called to bring her some little comforts, and to inquire whethershe had every thing she wanted. Aunt Nancy one night asked permission towatch with her sick mother, and Mrs. Flint replied, "I don't see any needof your going. I can't spare you. " But when she found other ladies in theneighborhood were so attentive, not wishing to be outdone in Christiancharity, she also sallied forth, in magnificent condescension, and stood bythe bedside of her who had loved her in her infancy, and who had beenrepaid by such grievous wrongs. She seemed surprised to find her so ill, and scolded uncle Phillip for not sending for Dr. Flint. She herself sentfor him immediately, and he came. Secure as I was in my retreat, I shouldhave been terrified if I had known he was so near me. He pronounced mygrandmother in a very critical situation, and said if her attendingphysician wished it, he would visit her. Nobody wished to have him comingto the house at all hours, and we were not disposed to give him a chance tomake out a long bill. 

As Mrs. Flint went out, Sally told her the reason Benny was lame was, thata dog had bitten him. "I'm glad of it, " replied she. "I wish he had killedhim. It would be good news to send to his mother. _Her_ day will come. Thedogs will grab _her_ yet. " With these Christian words she and her husbanddeparted, and, to my great satisfaction, returned no more. 

I learned from uncle Phillip, with feelings of unspeakable joy andgratitude, that the crisis was passed and grandmother would live. I couldnow say from my heart, "God is merciful. He has spared me the anguish offeeling that I caused her death. "

XXIV. The Candidate For Congress. 

The summer had nearly ended, when Dr. Flint made a third visit to New York, in search of me. Two candidates were running for Congress, and he returnedin season to vote. The father of my children was the Whig candidate. Thedoctor had hitherto been a stanch Whig; but now he exerted all his energiesfor the defeat of Mr. Sands. He invited large parties of men to dine in theshade of his trees, and supplied them with plenty of rum and brandy. If anypoor fellow drowned his wits in the bowl, and, in the openness of hisconvivial heart, proclaimed that he did not mean to vote the Democraticticket, he was shoved into the street without ceremony. 

The doctor expended his liquor in vain. Mr. Sands was elected; an eventwhich occasioned me some anxious thoughts. He had not emancipated mychildren, and if he should die they would be at the mercy of his heirs. Twolittle voices, that frequently met my ear, seemed to plead with me not tolet their father depart without striving to make their freedom secure. Years had passed since I had spoken to him. I had not even seen him sincethe night I passed him, unrecognized, in my disguise of a sailor. Isupposed he would call before he left, to say something to my grandmotherconcerning the children, and I resolved what course to take. 

The day before his departure for Washington I made arrangements, towardevening, to get from my hiding-place into the storeroom below. I foundmyself so stiff and clumsy that it was with great difficulty I could hitchfrom one resting place to another. When I reached the storeroom my anklesgave way under me, and I sank exhausted on the floor. It seemed as if Icould never use my limbs again. But the purpose I had in view roused allthe strength I had. I crawled on my hands and knees to the window, and, screened behind a barrel, I waited for his coming. The clock struck nine, and I knew the steamboat would leave between ten and eleven. My hopes werefailing. But presently I heard his voice, saying to some one, "Wait for mea moment. I wish to see aunt Martha. " When he came out, as he passed thewindow, I said, "Stop one moment, and let me speak for my children. " Hestarted, hesitated, and then passed on, and went out of the gate. I closedthe shutter I had partially opened, and sank down behind the barrel. I hadsuffered much; but seldom had I experienced a keener pang than I then felt. Had my children, then, become of so little consequence to him? And had heso little feeling for their wretched mother that he would not listen amoment while she pleaded for them? Painful memories were so busy within me, that I forgot I had not hooked the shutter, till I heard some one openingit. I looked up. He had come back. "Who called me?" said he, in a low tone. "I did, " I replied. "Oh, Linda, " said he, "I knew your voice; but I wasafraid to answer, lest my friend should hear me. Why do you come here? Isit possible you risk yourself in this house? They are mad to allow it. Ishall expect to hear that you are all ruined, " I did not wish to implicatehim, by letting him know my place of concealment; so I merely said, "Ithought you would come to bid grandmother good by, and so I came here tospeak a few words to you about emancipating my children. Many changes maytake place during the six months you are gone to Washington, and it doesnot seem right for you to expose them to the risk of such changes. I wantnothing for myself; all I ask is, that you will free my children, orauthorize some friend to do it, before you go. "

He promised he would do it, and also expressed a readiness; to make anyarrangements whereby I could be purchased. 

I heard footsteps approaching, and closed the shutter hastily. I wanted tocrawl back to my den, without letting the family know what I had done; forI knew they would deem it very imprudent. But he stepped back into thehouse, to tell my grandmother that he had spoken with me at the storeroomwindow, and to beg of her not to allow me to remain in the house over nightHe said it was the height of madness for me to be there; that we shouldcertainly all be ruined. Luckily, he was in too much of a hurry to wait fora reply, or the dear old woman would surely have told him all. 

I tried to go back to my den, but found it more difficult to go up than Ihad to come down. Now that my mission was fulfilled, the little strengththat had supported me through it was gone, and I sank helpless on thefloor. My grandmother, alarmed at the risk I had run, came into thestoreroom in the dark, and locked the door behind her. "Linda, " shewhispered, "where are you?"

"I am here by the window, " I replied. "I _couldn't_ have him go awaywithout emancipating the children. Who knows what may happen?"

"Come, come, child, " said she, "it won't do for you to stay here anotherminute. You've done wrong; but I can't blame you, poor thing!" I told herI could not return without assistance, and she must call my uncle. UnclePhillip came, and pity prevented him from scolding me. He carried me backto my dungeon, laid me tenderly on the bed, gave me some medicine, andasked me if there was any thing more he could do. Then he went away, and Iwas left with my own thoughts--starless as the midnight darkness around me. 

My friends feared I should become a cripple for life; and I was so weary ofmy long imprisonment that, had it not been for the hope of serving mychildren, I should have been thankful to die; but, for their sakes, I waswilling to bear on. 

XXV. Competition In Cunning. 

Dr. Flint had not given me up. Every now and then he would say to mygrandmother that I would yet come back, and voluntarily surrender myself;and that when I did, I could be purchased by my relatives, or any one whowished to buy me. I knew his cunning nature too well not to perceive thatthis was a trap laid for me; and so all my friends understood it. Iresolved to match my cunning against his cunning. In order to make himbelieve that I was in New York, I resolved to write him a letter dated fromthat place. I sent for my friend Peter, and asked him if he knew anytrustworthy seafaring person, who would carry such a letter to New York, and put it in the post office there. He said he knew one that he wouldtrust with his own life to the ends of the world. I reminded him that itwas a hazardous thing for him to undertake. He said he knew it, but he waswilling to do any thing to help me. I expressed a wish for a New Yorkpaper, to ascertain the names of some of the streets. He run his hand intohis pocket, and said, "Here is half a one, that was round a cap I bought ofa pedler yesterday. " I told him the letter would be ready the next evening. He bade me good by, adding, "Keep up your spirits, Linda; brighter dayswill come by and by. "

My uncle Phillip kept watch over the gate until our brief interview wasover. Early the next morning, I seated myself near the little aperture toexamine the newspaper. It was a piece of the New York Herald; and, foronce, the paper that systematically abuses the colored people, was made torender them a service. Having obtained what information I wanted concerningstreets and numbers, I wrote two letters, one to my grandmother, the otherto Dr. Flint. I reminded him how he, a gray-headed man, had treated ahelpless child, who had been placed in his power, and what years of miseryhe had brought upon her. To my grandmother, I expressed a wish to have mychildren sent to me at the north, where I could teach them to respectthemselves, and set them a virtuous example; which a slave mother was notallowed to do at the south. I asked her to direct her answer to a certainstreet in Boston, as I did not live in New York, though I went theresometimes. I dated these letters ahead, to allow for the time it would taketo carry them, and sent a memorandum of the date to the messenger. When myfriend came for the letters, I said, "God bless and reward you, Peter, forthis disinterested kindness. Pray be careful. If you are detected, both youand I will have to suffer dreadfully. I have not a relative who would dareto do it for me. " He replied, "You may trust to me, Linda. I don't forgetthat your father was my best friend, and I will be a friend to his childrenso long as God lets me live. "

It was necessary to tell my grandmother what I had done, in order that shemight be ready for the letter, and prepared to hear what Dr. Flint mightsay about my being at the north. She was sadly troubled. She felt suremischief would come of it. I also told my plan to aunt Nancy, in order thatshe might report to us what was said at Dr. Flint's house. I whispered itto her through a crack, and she whispered back, "I hope it will succeed. Ishan't mind being a slave all _my_ life, if I can only see you and thechildren free. "

I had directed that my letters should be put into the New York post officeon the 20th of the month. On the evening of the 24th my aunt came to saythat Dr. Flint and his wife had been talking in a low voice about a letterhe had received, and that when he went to his office he promised to bringit when he came to tea. So I concluded I should hear my letter read thenext morning. I told my grandmother Dr. Flint would be sure to come, andasked her to have him sit near a certain door, and leave it open, that Imight hear what he said. The next morning I took my station within sound ofthat door, and remained motionless as a statue. It was not long before Iheard the gate slam, and the well-known footsteps enter the house. Heseated himself in the chair that was placed for him, and said, "Well, Martha, I've brought you a letter from Linda. She has sent me a letter, also. I know exactly where to find her; but I don't choose to go to Bostonfor her. I had rather she would come back of her own accord, in arespectable manner. Her uncle Phillip is the best person to go for her. With _him_, she would feel perfectly free to act. I am willing to pay hisexpenses going and returning. She shall be sold to her friends. Herchildren are free; at least I suppose they are; and when you obtain herfreedom, you'll make a happy family. I suppose, Martha, you have noobjection to my reading to you the letter Linda has written to you. "

He broke the seal, and I heard him read it. The old villain! He hadsuppressed the letter I wrote to grandmother, and prepared a substitute ofhis own, the purport of which was as follows:--

 Dear Grandmother: I have long wanted to write to you; but the disgraceful manner in which I left you and my children made me ashamed to do it. If you knew how much I have suffered since I ran away, you would pity and forgive me. I have purchased freedom at a dear rate. If any arrangement could be made for me to return to the south without being a slave, I would gladly come. If not, I beg of you to send my children to the north. I cannot live any longer without them. Let me know in time, and I will meet them in New York or Philadelphia, whichever place best suits my uncle's convenience. Write as soon as possible to your unhappy daughter, Linda. 

"It is very much as I expected it would be, " said the old hypocrite, risingto go. "You see the foolish girl has repented of her rashness, and wants toreturn. We must help her to do it, Martha. Talk with Phillip about it. Ifhe will go for her, she will trust to him, and come back. I should like ananswer to-morrow. Good morning, Martha. "

As he stepped out on the piazza, he stumbled over my little girl. "Ah, Ellen, is that you?" he said, in his most gracious manner. "I didn't seeyou. How do you do?"

"Pretty well, sir, " she replied. "I heard you tell grandmother that mymother is coming home. I want to see her. "

"Yes, Ellen, I am going to bring her home very soon, " rejoined he; "and youshall see her as much as you like, you little curly-headed nigger. "

This was as good as a comedy to me, who had heard it all; but grandmotherwas frightened and distressed, because the doctor wanted my uncle to go forme. 

The next evening Dr. Flint called to talk the matter over. My uncle toldhim that from what he had heard of Massachusetts, he judged he should bemobbed if he went there after a runaway slave. "All stuff and nonsense, Phillip!" replied the doctor. "Do you suppose I want you to kick up a rowin Boston? The business can all be done quietly. Linda writes that shewants to come back. You are her relative, and she would trust _you_. Thecase would be different if I went. She might object to coming with _me_;and the damned abolitionists, if they knew I was her master, would notbelieve me, if I told them she had begged to go back. They would get up arow; and I should not like to see Linda dragged through the streets like acommon negro. She has been very ungrateful to me for all my kindness; but Iforgive her, and want to act the part of a friend towards her. I have nowish to hold her as my slave. Her friends can buy her as soon as shearrives here. "

Finding that his arguments failed to convince my uncle, the doctor "let thecat out of the bag, " by saying that he had written to the mayor of Boston, to ascertain whether there was a person of my description at the street andnumber from which my letter was dated. He had omitted this date in theletter he had made up to read to my grandmother. If I had dated from NewYork, the old man would probably have made another journey to that city. But even in that dark region, where knowledge is so carefully excluded fromthe slave, I had heard enough about Massachusetts to come to the conclusionthat slaveholders did not consider it a comfortable place to go in searchof a runaway. That was before the Fugitive Slave Law was passed; beforeMassachusetts had consented to become a "nigger hunter" for the south. 

My grandmother, who had become skittish by seeing her family always indanger, came to me with a very distressed countenance, and said, "What willyou do if the mayor of Boston sends him word that you haven't been there?Then he will suspect the letter was a trick; and maybe he'll find outsomething about it, and we shall all get into trouble. O Linda, I wish youhad never sent the letters. "

"Don't worry yourself, Grandmother, " said I. "The mayor of Boston won'ttrouble himself to hunt niggers for Dr. Flint. The letters will do good inthe end. I shall get out of this dark hole some time or other. "

"I hope you will, child, " replied the good, patient old friend. "You havebeen here a long time; almost five years; but whenever you do go, it willbreak your old grandmother's heart. I should be expecting every day to hearthat you were brought back in irons and put in jail. God help you, poorchild! Let us be thankful that some time or other we shall go 'where thewicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest. '" My heartresponded, Amen. 

The fact that Dr. Flint had written to the mayor of Boston convinced methat he believed my letter to be genuine, and of course that he had nosuspicion of my being any where in the vicinity. It was a great object tokeep up this delusion, for it made me and my friends feel less anxious, andit would be very convenient whenever there was a chance to escape. Iresolved, therefore, to continue to write letters from the north from timeto time. 

Two or three weeks passed, and as no news came from the mayor of Boston, grandmother began to listen to my entreaty to be allowed to leave my cell, sometimes, and exercise my limbs to prevent my becoming a cripple. I wasallowed to slip down into the small storeroom, early in the morning, andremain there a little while. The room was all filled up with barrels, except a small open space under my trap-door. This faced the door, theupper part of which was of glass, and purposely left uncurtained, that thecurious might look in. The air of this place was close; but it was so muchbetter than the atmosphere of my cell, that I dreaded to return. I camedown as soon as it was light, and remained till eight o'clock, when peoplebegan to be about, and there was danger that some one might come on thepiazza. I had tried various applications to bring warmth and feeling intomy limbs, but without avail. They were so numb and stiff that it was apainful effort to move; and had my enemies come upon me during the firstmornings I tried to exercise them a little in the small unoccupied space ofthe storeroom, it would have been impossible for me to have escaped. 

XXVI. Important Era In My Brother's Life. 

I missed the company and kind attentions of my brother William, who hadgone to Washington with his master, Mr. Sands. We received several lettersfrom him, written without any allusion to me, but expressed in such amanner that I knew he did not forget me. I disguised my hand, and wrote tohim in the same manner. It was a long session; and when it closed, Williamwrote to inform us that Mr. Sands was going to the north, to be gone sometime, and that he was to accompany him. I knew that his master had promisedto give him his freedom, but no time had been specified. Would Williamtrust to a slave's chances? I remembered how we used to talk together, inour young days, about obtaining our freedom, and I thought it very doubtfulwhether he would come back to us. 

Grandmother received a letter from Mr. Sands, saying that William hadproved a most faithful servant, and he would also say a valued friend; thatno mother had ever trained a better boy. He said he had travelled throughthe Northern States and Canada; and though the abolitionists had tried todecoy him away, they had never succeeded. He ended by saying they should beat home shortly. 

We expected letters from William, describing the novelties of his journey, but none came. In time, it was reported that Mr. Sands would return late inthe autumn, accompanied by a bride. Still no letters from William. I feltalmost sure I should never see him again on southern soil; but had he noword of comfort to send to his friends at home? to the poor captive in herdungeon? My thoughts wandered through the dark past, and over the uncertainfuture. Alone in my cell, where no eye but God's could see me, I weptbitter tears. How earnestly I prayed to him to restore me to my children, and enable me to be a useful woman and a good mother!

At last the day arrived for the return of the travellers. Grandmother hadmade loving preparations to welcome her absent boy back to the oldhearthstone. When the dinner table was laid, William's place occupied itsold place. The stage coach went by empty. My grandmother waited dinner. Shethought perhaps he was necessarily detained by his master. In my prison Ilistened anxiously, expecting every moment to hear my dear brother's voiceand step. In the course of the afternoon a lad was sent by Mr. Sands totell grandmother that William did not return with him; that theabolitionists had decoyed him away. But he begged her not to feel troubledabout it, for he felt confident she would see William in a few days. Assoon as he had time to reflect he would come back, for he could neverexpect to be so well off at the north as he had been with him. 

If you had seen the tears, and heard the sobs, you would have thought themessenger had brought tidings of death instead of freedom. Poor oldgrandmother felt that she should never see her darling boy again. And I wasselfish. I thought more of what I had lost, than of what my brother hadgained. A new anxiety began to trouble me. Mr. Sands had expended a gooddeal of money, and would naturally feel irritated by the loss he hadincurred. I greatly feared this might injure the prospects of my children, who were now becoming valuable property. I longed to have theiremancipation made certain. The more so, because their master and father wasnow married. I was too familiar with slavery not to know that promises madeto slaves, though with kind intentions, and sincere at the time, dependupon many contingencies for their fulfillment. 

Much as I wished William to be free, the step he had taken made me sad andanxious. The following Sabbath was calm and clear; so beautiful that itseemed like a Sabbath in the eternal world. My grandmother brought thechildren out on the piazza, that I might hear their voices. She thought itwould comfort me in my despondency; and it did. They chatted merrily, asonly children can. Benny said, "Grandmother, do you think uncle Will hasgone for good? Won't he ever come back again? May be he'll find mother. Ifhe does, _won't_ she be glad to see him! Why don't you and uncle Phillip, and all of us, go and live where mother is? I should like it; wouldn't you, Ellen?"

"Yes, I should like it, " replied Ellen; "but how could we find her? Do youknow the place, grandmother? I don't remember how mother looked--do you, Benny?"

Benny was just beginning to describe me when they were interrupted by anold slave woman, a near neighbor, named Aggie. This poor creature hadwitnessed the sale of her children, and seen them carried off to partsunknown, without any hopes of ever hearing from them again. She saw that mygrandmother had been weeping, and she said, in a sympathizing tone, "What'sthe matter, aunt Marthy?"

"O Aggie, " she replied, "it seems as if I shouldn't have any of my childrenor grandchildren left to hand me a drink when I'm dying, and lay my oldbody in the ground. My boy didn't come back with Mr. Sands. He staid at thenorth. "

Poor old Aggie clapped her hands for joy. "Is _dat_ what you's crying fur?"she exclaimed. "Git down on your knees and bress de Lord! I don't know wharmy poor chillern is, and I nebber 'spect to know. You don't know whar poorLinda's gone to; but you _do_ know whar her brudder is. He's in free parts;and dat's de right place. Don't murmur at de Lord's doings but git down onyour knees and tank him for his goodness. "

My selfishness was rebuked by what poor Aggie said. She rejoiced over theescape of one who was merely her fellow-bondman, while his own sister wasonly thinking what his good fortune might cost her children. I knelt andprayed God to forgive me; and I thanked him from my heart, that one of myfamily was saved from the grasp of slavery. 

It was not long before we received a letter from William. He wrote that Mr. Sands had always treated him kindly, and that he had tried to do his dutyto him faithfully. But ever since he was a boy, he had longed to be free;and he had already gone through enough to convince him he had better notlose the chance that offered. He concluded by saying, "Don't worry aboutme, dear grandmother. I shall think of you always; and it will spur me onto work hard and try to do right. When I have earned money enough to giveyou a home, perhaps you will come to the north, and we can all live happytogether. "

Mr. Sands told my uncle Phillip the particulars about William's leavinghim. He said, "I trusted him as if he were my own brother, and treated himas kindly. The abolitionists talked to him in several places; but I had noidea they could tempt him. However, I don't blame William. He's young andinconsiderate, and those Northern rascals decoyed him. I must confess thescamp was very bold about it. I met him coming down the steps of the AstorHouse with his trunk on his shoulder, and I asked him where he was going. He said he was going to change his old trunk. I told him it was rathershabby, and asked if he didn't need some money. He said, No, thanked me, and went off. He did not return so soon as I expected; but I waitedpatiently. At last I went to see if our trunks were packed, ready for ourjourney. I found them locked, and a sealed note on the table informed mewhere I could find the keys. The fellow even tried to be religious. Hewrote that he hoped God would always bless me, and reward me for mykindness; that he was not unwilling to serve me; but he wanted to be a freeman; and that if I thought he did wrong, he hoped I would forgive him. Iintended to give him his freedom in five years. He might have trusted me. He has shown himself ungrateful; but I shall not go for him, or send forhim. I feel confident that he will soon return to me. "

I afterwards heard an account of the affair from William himself. He hadnot been urged away by abolitionists. He needed no information they couldgive him about slavery to stimulate his desire for freedom. He looked athis hands, and remembered that they were once in irons. What security hadhe that they would not be so again? Mr. Sands was kind to him; but he mightindefinitely postpone the promise he had made to give him his freedom. Hemight come under pecuniary embarrassments, and his property be seized bycreditors; or he might die, without making any arrangements in his favor. He had too often known such accidents to happen to slaves who had kindmasters, and he wisely resolved to make sure of the present opportunity toown himself. He was scrupulous about taking any money from his master onfalse pretences; so he sold his best clothes to pay for his passage toBoston. The slaveholders pronounced him a base, ungrateful wretch, for thusrequiting his master's indulgence. What would _they_ have done undersimilar circumstances?

When Dr. Flint's family heard that William had deserted Mr. Sands, theychuckled greatly over the news. Mrs. Flint made her usual manifestations ofChristian feeling, by saying, "I'm glad of it. I hope he'll never get himagain. I like to see people paid back in their own coin. I reckon Linda'schildren will have to pay for it. I should be glad to see them in thespeculator's hands again, for I'm tired of seeing those little niggersmarch about the streets. "

XXVII. New Destination For The Children. 

Mrs. Flint proclaimed her intention of informing Mrs. Sands who was thefather of my children. She likewise proposed to tell her what an artfuldevil I was; that I had made a great deal of trouble in her family; thatwhen Mr. Sands was at the north, she didn't doubt I had followed him indisguise, and persuaded William to run away. She had some reason toentertain such an idea; for I had written from the north, from time totime, and I dated my letters from various places. Many of them fell intoDr. Flint's hands, as I expected they would; and he must have come to theconclusion that I travelled about a good deal. He kept a close watch overmy children, thinking they would eventually lead to my detection. 

A new and unexpected trial was in store for me. One day, when Mr. Sands andhis wife were walking in the street, they met Benny. The lady took a fancyto him, and exclaimed, "What a pretty little negro! Whom does he belongto?"

Benny did not hear the answer; but he came home very indignant with thestranger lady, because she had called him a negro. A few days afterwards, Mr. Sands called on my grandmother, and told her he wanted her to take thechildren to his house. He said he had informed his wife of his relation tothem, and told her they were motherless; and she wanted to see them. 

When he had gone, my grandmother came and asked what I would do. Thequestion seemed a mockery. What _could_ I do? They were Mr. Sands's slaves, and their mother was a slave, whom he had represented to be dead. Perhapshe thought I was. I was too much pained and puzzled to come to anydecision; and the children were carried without my knowledge. Mrs. Sandshad a sister from Illinois staying with her. This lady, who had no childrenof her own, was so much pleased with Ellen, that she offered to adopt her, and bring her up as she would a daughter. Mrs. Sands wanted to takeBenjamin. When grandmother reported this to me, I was tried almost beyondendurance. Was this all I was to gain by what I had suffered for the sakeof having my children free? True, the prospect _seemed_ fair; but I knewtoo well how lightly slaveholders held such "parental relations. " Ifpecuniary troubles should come, or if the new wife required more money thancould conveniently be spared, my children might be thought of as aconvenient means of raising funds. I had no trust in thee, O Slavery! Nevershould I know peace till my children were emancipated with all dueformalities of law. 

I was too proud to ask Mr. Sands to do any thing for my own benefit; but Icould bring myself to become a supplicant for my children. I resolved toremind him of the promise he had made me, and to throw myself upon hishonor for the performance of it. I persuaded my grandmother to go to him, and tell him I was not dead, and that I earnestly entreated him to keep thepromise he had made me; that I had heard of the recent proposals concerningmy children, and did not feel easy to accept them; that he had promised toemancipate them, and it was time for him to redeem his pledge. I knew therewas some risk in thus betraying that I was in the vicinity; but what willnot a mother do for her children? He received the message with surprise, and said, "The children are free. I have never intended to claim them asslaves. Linda may decide their fate. In my opinion, they had better be sentto the north. I don't think they are quite safe here. Dr. Flint boasts thatthey are still in his power. He says they were his daughter's property, andas she was not of age when they were sold, the contract is not legallybinding. "

So, then, after all I had endured for their sakes, my poor children werebetween two fires; between my old master and their new master! And I waspowerless. There was no protecting arm of the law for me to invoke. Mr. Sands proposed that Ellen should go, for the present, to some of hisrelatives, who had removed to Brooklyn, Long Island. It was promised thatshe should be well taken care of, and sent to school. I consented to it, asthe best arrangement I could make for her. My grandmother, of course, negotiated it all; and Mrs. Sands knew of no other person in thetransaction. She proposed that they should take Ellen with them toWashington, and keep her till they had a good chance of sending her, withfriends, to Brooklyn. She had an infant daughter. I had had a glimpse ofit, as the nurse passed with it in her arms. It was not a pleasant thoughtto me, that the bondwoman's child should tend her free-born sister; butthere was no alternative. Ellen was made ready for the journey. O, how ittried my heart to send her away, so young, alone, among strangers! Withouta mother's love to shelter her from the storms of life; almost withoutmemory of a mother! I doubted whether she and Benny would have for me thenatural affection that children feel for a parent. I thought to myself thatI might perhaps never see my daughter again, and I had a great desire thatshe should look upon me, before she went, that she might take my image withher in her memory. It seemed to me cruel to have her brought to my dungeon. It was sorrow enough for her young heart to know that her mother was avictim of slavery, without seeing the wretched hiding-place to which it haddriven her. I begged permission to pass the last night in one of the openchambers, with my little girl. They thought I was crazy to think oftrusting such a young child with my perilous secret. I told them I hadwatched her character, and I felt sure she would not betray me; that I wasdetermined to have an interview, and if they would not facilitate it, Iwould take my own way to obtain it. They remonstrated against the rashnessof such a proceeding; but finding they could not change my purpose, theyyielded. I slipped through the trap-door into the storeroom, and my unclekept watch at the gate, while I passed into the piazza and went up stairs, to the room I used to occupy. It was more than five years since I had seenit; and how the memories crowded on me! There I had taken shelter when mymistress drove me from her house; there came my old tyrant, to mock, insult, and curse me; there my children were first laid in my arms; there Ihad watched over them, each day with a deeper and sadder love; there I hadknelt to God, in anguish of heart, to forgive the wrong I had done. Howvividly it all came back! And after this long, gloomy interval, I stoodthere such a wreck!

In the midst of these meditations, I heard footsteps on the stairs. Thedoor opened, and my uncle Phillip came in, leading Ellen by the hand. I putmy arms round her, and said, "Ellen, my dear child, I am your mother. " Shedrew back a little, and looked at me; then, with sweet confidence, she laidher cheek against mine, and I folded her to the heart that had been so longdesolated. She was the first to speak. Raising her head, she said, inquiringly, "You really _are_ my mother?" I told her I really was; thatduring all the long time she had not seen me, I had loved her mosttenderly; and that now she was going away, I wanted to see her and talkwith her, that she might remember me. With a sob in her voice, she said, "I'm glad you've come to see me; but why didn't you ever come before? Bennyand I have wanted so much to see you! He remembers you, and sometimes hetells me about you. Why didn't you come home when Dr. Flint went to bringyou?"

I answered, "I couldn't come before, dear. But now that I am with you, tellme whether you like to go away. " "I don't know, " said she, crying. "Grandmother says I ought not to cry; that I am going to a good place, where I can learn to read and write, and that by and by I can write her aletter. But I shan't have Benny, or grandmother, or uncle Phillip, or anybody to love me. Can't you go with me? O, _do_ go, dear mother!"

I told her I couldn't go now; but sometime I would come to her, and thenshe and Benny and I would live together, and have happy times. She wantedto run and bring Benny to see me now. I told her he was going to the north, before long, with uncle Phillip, and then I would come to see him before hewent away. I asked if she would like to have me stay all night and sleepwith her. "O, yes, " she replied. Then, turning to her uncle, she said, pleadingly, "_May_ I stay? Please, uncle! She is my own mother. " He laidhis hand on her head, and said, solemnly, "Ellen, this is the secret youhave promised grandmother never to tell. If you ever speak of it to anybody, they will never let you see your grandmother again, and your mothercan never come to Brooklyn. " "Uncle, " she replied, "I will never tell. " Hetold her she might stay with me; and when he had gone, I took her in myarms and told her I was a slave, and that was the reason she must never sayshe had seen me. I exhorted her to be a good child, to try to please thepeople where she was going, and that God would raise her up friends. I toldher to say her prayers, and remember always to pray for her poor mother, and that God would permit us to meet again. She wept, and I did not checkher tears. Perhaps she would never again have a chance to pour her tearsinto a mother's bosom. All night she nestled in my arms, and I had noinclination to slumber. The moments were too precious to lose any of them. Once, when I thought she was asleep, I kissed her forehead softly, and shesaid, "I am not asleep, dear mother. "

Before dawn they came to take me back to my den. I drew aside the windowcurtain, to take a last look of my child. The moonlight shone on her face, and I bent over her, as I had done years before, that wretched night when Iran away. I hugged her close to my throbbing heart; and tears, too sad forsuch young eyes to shed, flowed down her cheeks, as she gave her last kiss, and whispered in my ear, "Mother, I will never tell. " And she never did. 

When I got back to my den, I threw myself on the bed and wept there alonein the darkness. It seemed as if my heart would burst. When the time forEllen's departure drew nigh, I could hear neighbors and friends saying toher, "Good by, Ellen. I hope your poor mother will find you out. _Won't_you be glad to see her!" She replied, "Yes, ma'am;" and they little dreamedof the weighty secret that weighed down her young heart. She was anaffectionate child, but naturally very reserved, except with those sheloved, and I felt secure that my secret would be safe with her. I heard thegate close after her, with such feelings as only a slave mother canexperience. During the day my meditations were very sad. Sometimes I fearedI had been very selfish not to give up all claim to her, and let her go toIllinois, to be adopted by Mrs. Sands's sister. It was my experience ofslavery that decided me against it. I feared that circumstances might arisethat would cause her to be sent back. I felt confident that I should go toNew York myself; and then I should be able to watch over her, and in somedegree protect her. 

Dr. Flint's family knew nothing of the proposed arrangement till afterEllen was gone, and the news displeased them greatly. Mrs. Flint called onMrs. Sands's sister to inquire into the matter. She expressed her opinionvery freely as to the respect Mr. Sands showed for his wife, and for hisown character, in acknowledging those "young niggers. " And as for sendingEllen away, she pronounced it to be just as much stealing as it would befor him to come and take a piece of furniture out of her parlor. She saidher daughter was not of age to sign the bill of sale, and the children wereher property; and when she became of age, or was married, she could takethem, wherever she could lay hands on them. 

Miss Emily Flint, the little girl to whom I had been bequeathed, was now inher sixteenth year. Her mother considered it all right and honorable forher, or her future husband, to steal my children; but she did notunderstand how any body could hold up their heads in respectable society, after they had purchased their own children, as Mr. Sands had done. Dr. Flint said very little. Perhaps he thought that Benny would be less likelyto be sent away if he kept quiet. One of my letters, that fell into hishands, was dated from Canada; and he seldom spoke of me now. This state ofthings enabled me to slip down into the storeroom more frequently, where Icould stand upright, and move my limbs more freely. 

Days, weeks, and months passed, and there came no news of Ellen. I sent aletter to Brooklyn, written in my grandmother's name, to inquire whethershe had arrived there. Answer was returned that she had not. I wrote to herin Washington; but no notice was taken of it. There was one person there, who ought to have had some sympathy with the anxiety of the child's friendsat home; but the links of such relations as he had formed with me, areeasily broken and cast away as rubbish. Yet how protectingly andpersuasively he once talked to the poor, helpless slave girl! And howentirely I trusted him! But now suspicions darkened my mind. Was my childdead, or had they deceived me, and sold her?

If the secret memoirs of many members of Congress should be published, curious details would be unfolded. I once saw a letter from a member ofCongress to a slave, who was the mother of six of his children. He wrote torequest that she would send her children away from the great house beforehis return, as he expected to be accompanied by friends. The woman couldnot read, and was obliged to employ another to read the letter. Theexistence of the colored children did not trouble this gentleman, it wasonly the fear that friends might recognize in their features a resemblanceto him. 

At the end of six months, a letter came to my grandmother, from Brooklyn. It was written by a young lady in the family, and announced that Ellen hadjust arrived. It contained the following message from her: "I do try to dojust as you told me to, and I pray for you every night and morning. " Iunderstood that these words were meant for me; and they were a balsam to myheart. The writer closed her letter by saying, "Ellen is a nice littlegirl, and we shall like to have her with us. My cousin, Mr. Sands, hasgiven her to me, to be my little waiting maid. I shall send her to school, and I hope some day she will write to you herself. " This letter perplexedand troubled me. Had my child's father merely placed her there till she wasold enough to support herself? Or had he given her to his cousin, as apiece of property? If the last idea was correct, his cousin might return tothe south at any time, and hold Ellen as a slave. I tried to put away fromme the painful thought that such a foul wrong could have been done to us. Isaid to myself, "Surely there must be _some_ justice in man;" then Iremembered, with a sigh, how slavery perverted all the natural feelings ofthe human heart. It gave me a pang to look on my light-hearted boy. Hebelieved himself free; and to have him brought under the yoke of slavery, would be more than I could bear. How I longed to have him safely out of thereach of its power!

XXVIII. Aunt Nancy. 

I have mentioned my great-aunt, who was a slave in Dr. Flint's family, andwho had been my refuge during the shameful persecutions I suffered fromhim. This aunt had been married at twenty years of age; that is, as far asslaves _can_ marry. She had the consent of her master and mistress, and aclergyman performed the ceremony. But it was a mere form, without any legalvalue. Her master or mistress could annul it any day they pleased. She hadalways slept on the floor in the entry, near Mrs. Flint's chamber door, that she might be within call. When she was married, she was told she mighthave the use of a small room in an outhouse. Her mother and her husbandfurnished it. He was a seafaring man, and was allowed to sleep there whenhe was at home. But on the wedding evening, the bride was ordered to herold post on the entry floor. 

Mrs. Flint, at that time, had no children; but she was expecting to be amother, and if she should want a drink of water in the night, what couldshe do without her slave to bring it? So my aunt was compelled to lie ather door, until one midnight she was forced to leave, to give prematurebirth to a child. In a fortnight she was required to resume her place onthe entry floor, because Mrs. Flint's babe needed her attentions. She kepther station there through summer and winter, until she had given prematurebirth to six children; and all the while she was employed as night-nurse toMrs. Flint's children. Finally, toiling all day, and being deprived of restat night, completely broke down her constitution, and Dr. Flint declared itwas impossible she could ever become the mother of a living child. The fearof losing so valuable a servant by death, now induced them to allow her tosleep in her little room in the out-house, except when there was sicknessin the family. She afterwards had two feeble babes, one of whom died in afew days, and the other in four weeks. I well remember her patient sorrowas she held the last dead baby in her arms. "I wish it could have lived, "she said; "it is not the will of God that any of my children should live. But I will try to be fit to meet their little spirits in heaven. "

Aunt Nancy was housekeeper and waiting-maid in Dr. Flint's family. Indeed, she was the _factotum_ of the household. Nothing went on well without her. She was my mother's twin sister, and, as far as was in her power, shesupplied a mother's place to us orphans. I slept with her all the time Ilived in my old master's house, and the bond between us was very strong. When my friends tried to discourage me from running away; she alwaysencouraged me. When they thought I had better return and ask my master'spardon, because there was no possibility of escape, she sent me word neverto yield. She said if I persevered I might, perhaps, gain the freedom of mychildren; and even if I perished in doing it, that was better than to leavethem to groan under the same persecutions that had blighted my own life. After I was shut up in my dark cell, she stole away, whenever she could, tobring me the news and say something cheering. How often did I kneel down tolisten to her words of consolation, whispered through a crack! "I am old, and have not long to live, " she used to say; "and I could die happy if Icould only see you and the children free. You must pray to God, Linda, as Ido for you, that he will lead you out of this darkness. " I would beg hernot to worry herself on my account; that there was an end of all sufferingsooner or later, and that whether I lived in chains or in freedom, I shouldalways remember her as the good friend who had been the comfort of my life. A word from her always strengthened me; and not me only. The whole familyrelied upon her judgement, and were guided by her advice. I had been in mycell six years when my grandmother was summoned to the bedside of this, herlast remaining daughter. She was very ill, and they said she would die. Grandmother had not entered Dr. Flint's house for several years. They hadtreated her cruelly, but she thought nothing of that now. She was gratefulfor permission to watch by the death-bed of her child. They had always beendevoted to each other; and now they sat looking into each other's eyes, longing to speak of the secret that had weighed so much on the hearts ofboth. My aunt had been stricken with paralysis. She lived but two days, andthe last day she was speechless. Before she lost the power of utterance, she told her mother not to grieve if she could not speak to her; that shewould try to hold up her hand; to let her know that all was well with her. Even the hard-hearted doctor was a little softened when he saw the dyingwoman try to smile on the aged mother, who was kneeling by her side. Hiseyes moistened for a moment, as he said she had always been a faithfulservant, and they should never be able to supply her place. Mrs. Flint tookto her bed, quite overcome by the shock. While my grandmother sat alonewith the dead, the doctor came in, leading his youngest son, who had alwaysbeen a great pet with aunt Nancy, and was much attached to her. "Martha, "said he, "aunt Nancy loved this child, and when he comes where you are, Ihope you will be kind to him, for her sake. " She replied, "Your wife was myfoster-child, Dr. Flint, the foster-sister of my poor Nancy, and you littleknow me if you think I can feel any thing but good will for her children. "

"I wish the past could be forgotten, and that we might never think of it, "said he; "and that Linda would come to supply her aunt's place. She wouldbe worth more to us than all the money that could be paid for her. I wishit for your sake also, Martha. Now that Nancy is taken away from you, shewould be a great comfort to your old age. " He knew he was touching atender chord. Almost choking with grief, my grandmother replied, "It wasnot I that drove Linda away. My grandchildren are gone; and of my ninechildren only one is left. God help me!"

To me, the death of this kind relative was an inexpressible sorrow. I knewthat she had been slowly murdered; and I felt that my troubles had helpedto finish the work. After I heard of her illness, I listened constantly tohear what news was brought from the great house; and the thought that Icould not go to her made me utterly miserable. At last, as uncle Phillipcame into the house, I heard some one inquire, "How is she?" and heanswered, "She is dead. " My little cell seemed whirling round, and I knewnothing more till I opened my eyes and found uncle Phillip bending over me. I had no need to ask any questions. He whispered, "Linda, she died happy. "I could not weep. My fixed gaze troubled him. "Don't look _so_" he said. "Don't add to my poor mother's trouble. Remember how much she has to bear, and that we ought to do all we can to comfort her. " Ah, yes, that blessedold grandmother, who for seventy-three years had borne the pelting stormsof a slave-mother's life. She did indeed need consolation!

Mrs. Flint had rendered her poor foster-sister childless, apparentlywithout any compunction; and with cruel selfishness had ruined her healthby years of incessant, unrequited toil, and broken rest. But now she becamevery sentimental. I suppose she thought it would be a beautifulillustration of the attachment existing between slaveholder and slave, ifthe body of her old worn-out servant was buried at her feet. She sent forthe clergyman and asked if he had any objection to burying aunt Nancy inthe doctor's family burial-place. No colored person had ever been allowedinterment in the white people's burying-ground, and the minister knew thatall the deceased of your family reposed together in the old graveyard ofthe slaves. He therefore replied, "I have no objection to complying withyour wish; but perhaps aunt Nancy's _mother_ may have some choice as towhere her remains shall be deposited. "

It had never occurred to Mrs. Flint that slaves could have any feelings. When my grandmother was consulted, she at once said she wanted Nancy to liewith all the rest of her family, and where her own old body would beburied. Mrs. Flint graciously complied with her wish, though she said itwas painful to her to have Nancy buried away from _her_. She might haveadded with touching pathos, "I was so long _used_ to sleep with her lyingnear me, on the entry floor. "

My uncle Phillip asked permission to bury his sister at his own expense;and slaveholders are always ready to grant _such_ favors to slaves andtheir relatives. The arrangements were very plain, but perfectlyrespectable. She was buried on the Sabbath, and Mrs. Flint's minister readthe funeral service. There was a large concourse of colored people, bondand free, and a few white persons who had always been friendly to ourfamily. Dr. Flint's carriage was in the procession; and when the body wasdeposited in its humble resting place, the mistress dropped a tear, andreturned to her carriage, probably thinking she had performed her dutynobly. 

It was talked of by the slaves as a mighty grand funeral. Northerntravellers, passing through the place, might have described this tribute ofrespect to the humble dead as a beautiful feature in the "patriarchalinstitution;" a touching proof of the attachment between slaveholders andtheir servants; and tender-hearted Mrs. Flint would have confirmed thisimpression, with handkerchief at her eyes. _We_ could have told them adifferent story. We could have given them a chapter of wrongs andsufferings, that would have touched their hearts, if they _had_ any heartsto feel for the colored people. We could have told them how the poor oldslave-mother had toiled, year after year, to earn eight hundred dollars tobuy her son Phillip's right to his own earnings; and how that same Phillippaid the expenses of the funeral, which they regarded as doing so muchcredit to the master. We could also have told them of a poor, blightedyoung creature, shut up in a living grave for years, to avoid the torturesthat would be inflicted on her, if she ventured to come out and look on theface of her departed friend. 

All this, and much more, I thought of, as I sat at my loophole, waitingfor the family to return from the grave; sometimes weeping, sometimesfalling asleep, dreaming strange dreams of the dead and the living. 

It was sad to witness the grief of my bereaved grandmother. She had alwaysbeen strong to bear, and now, as ever, religious faith supported her. Buther dark life had become still darker, and age and trouble were leavingdeep traces on her withered face. She had four places to knock for me tocome to the trapdoor, and each place had a different meaning. She now cameoftener than she had done, and talked to me of her dead daughter, whiletears trickled slowly down her furrowed cheeks. I said all I could tocomfort her; but it was a sad reflection, that instead of being able tohelp her, I was a constant source of anxiety and trouble. The poor old backwas fitted to its burden. It bent under it, but did not break. 

XXIX. Preparations For Escape. 

I hardly expect that the reader will credit me, when I affirm that I livedin that little dismal hole, almost deprived of light and air, and with nospace to move my limbs, for nearly seven years. But it is a fact; and to mea sad one, even now; for my body still suffers from the effects of thatlong imprisonment, to say nothing of my soul. Members of my family, nowliving in New York and Boston, can testify to the truth of what I say. 

Countless were the nights that I sat late at the little loophole scarcelylarge enough to give me a glimpse of one twinkling star. There, heard thepatrols and slave-hunters conferring together about the capture ofrunaways, well knowing how rejoiced they would be to catch me. 

Season after season, year after year, I peeped at my children's faces, andheard their sweet voices, with a heart yearning all the while to say, "Yourmother is here. " Sometimes it appeared to me as if ages had rolled awaysince I entered upon that gloomy, monotonous existence. At times, I wasstupefied and listless; at other times I became very impatient to know whenthese dark years would end, and I should again be allowed to feel thesunshine, and breathe the pure air. 

After Ellen left us, this feeling increased. Mr. Sands had agreed thatBenny might go to the north whenever his uncle Phillip could go with him;and I was anxious to be there also, to watch over my children, and protectthem so far as I was able. Moreover, I was likely to be drowned out of myden, if I remained much longer; for the slight roof was getting badly outof repair, and uncle Phillip was afraid to remove the shingles, lest someone should get a glimpse of me. When storms occurred in the night, theyspread mats and bits of carpet, which in the morning appeared to have beenlaid out to dry; but to cover the roof in the daytime might have attractedattention. Consequently, my clothes and bedding were often drenched; aprocess by which the pains and aches in my cramped and stiffened limbs weregreatly increased. I revolved various plans of escape in my mind, which Isometimes imparted to my grandmother, when she came to whisper with me atthe trap-door. The kind-hearted old woman had an intense sympathy forrunaways. She had known too much of the cruelties inflicted on those whowere captured. Her memory always flew back at once to the sufferings of herbright and handsome son, Benjamin, the youngest and dearest of her flock. So, whenever I alluded to the subject, she would groan out, "O, don't thinkof it, child. You'll break my heart. " I had no good old aunt Nancy now toencourage me; but my brother William and my children were continuallybeckoning me to the north. 

And now I must go back a few months in my story. I have stated that thefirst of January was the time for selling slaves, or leasing them out tonew masters. If time were counted by heart-throbs, the poor slaves mightreckon years of suffering during that festival so joyous to the free. Onthe New Year's day preceding my aunt's death, one of my friends, namedFanny, was to be sold at auction, to pay her master's debts. My thoughtswere with her during all the day, and at night I anxiously inquired whathad been her fate. I was told that she had been sold to one master, and herfour little girls to another master, far distant; that she had escaped fromher purchaser, and was not to be found. Her mother was the old Aggie I havespoken of. She lived in a small tenement belonging to my grandmother, andbuilt on the same lot with her own house. Her dwelling was searched andwatched, and that brought the patrols so near me that I was obliged to keepvery close in my den. The hunters were somehow eluded; and not longafterwards Benny accidentally caught sight of Fanny in her mother's hut. Hetold his grandmother, who charged him never to speak of it, explaining tohim the frightful consequences; and he never betrayed the trust. Aggielittle dreamed that my grandmother knew where her daughter was concealed, and that the stooping form of her old neighbor was bending under a similarburden of anxiety and fear; but these dangerous secrets deepened thesympathy between the two old persecuted mothers. 

My friend Fanny and I remained many weeks hidden within call of each other;but she was unconscious of the fact. I longed to have her share my den, which seemed a more secure retreat than her own; but I had brought so muchtrouble on my grandmother, that it seemed wrong to ask her to incur greaterrisks. My restlessness increased. I had lived too long in bodily pain andanguish of spirit. Always I was in dread that by some accident, or somecontrivance, slavery would succeed in snatching my children from me. Thisthought drove me nearly frantic, and I determined to steer for the NorthStar at all hazards. At this crisis, Providence opened an unexpected wayfor me to escape. My friend Peter came one evening, and asked to speak withme. "Your day has come, Linda, " said he. "I have found a chance for you togo to the Free States. You have a fortnight to decide. " The news seemed toogood to be true; but Peter explained his arrangements, and told me all thatwas necessary was for me to say I would go. I was going to answer him witha joyful yes, when the thought of Benny came to my mind. I told him thetemptation was exceedingly strong, but I was terribly afraid of Dr. Flint'salleged power over my child, and that I could not go and leave him behind. Peter remonstrated earnestly. He said such a good chance might never occuragain; that Benny was free, and could be sent to me; and that for the sakeof my children's welfare I ought not to hesitate a moment. I told him Iwould consult with uncle Phillip. My uncle rejoiced in the plan, and bademe go by all means. He promised, if his life was spared, that he wouldeither bring or send my son to me as soon as I reached a place of safety. Iresolved to go, but thought nothing had better be said to my grandmothertill very near the time of departure. But my uncle thought she would feelit more keenly if I left here so suddenly. "I will reason with her, " saidhe, "and convince her how necessary it is, not only for your sake, but forhers also. You cannot be blind to the fact that she is sinking under herburdens. " I was not blind to it. I knew that my concealment was anever-present source of anxiety, and that the older she grew the morenervously fearful she was of discovery. My uncle talked with her, andfinally succeeded in persuading her that it was absolutely necessary for meto seize the chance so unexpectedly offered. 

The anticipation of being a free woman proved almost too much for my weakframe. The excitement stimulated me, and at the same time bewildered me. Imade busy preparations for my journey, and for my son to follow me. Iresolved to have an interview with him before I went, that I might give himcautions and advice, and tell him how anxiously I should be waiting for himat the north. Grandmother stole up to me as often as possible to whisperwords of counsel. She insisted upon writing to Dr. Flint, as soon as Iarrived in the Free States, and asking him to sell me to her. She said shewould sacrifice her house, and all she had in the world, for the sake ofhaving me safe with my children in any part of the world. If she could onlylive to know _that_ she could die in peace. I promised the dear oldfaithful friend that I would write to her as soon as I arrived, and put theletter in a safe way to reach her; but in my own mind I resolved that notanother cent of her hard earnings should be spent to pay rapaciousslaveholders for what they called their property. And even if I had notbeen unwilling to buy what I had already a right to possess, commonhumanity would have prevented me from accepting the generous offer, at theexpense of turning my aged relative out of house and home, when she wastrembling on the brink of the grave. 

I was to escape in a vessel; but I forbear to mention any furtherparticulars. I was in readiness, but the vessel was unexpectedly detainedseveral days. Meantime, news came to town of a most horrible murdercommitted on a fugitive slave, named James. Charity, the mother of thisunfortunate young man, had been an old acquaintance of ours. I have toldthe shocking particulars of his death, in my description of some of theneighboring slaveholders. My grandmother, always nervously sensitive aboutrunaways, was terribly frightened. She felt sure that a similar fateawaited me, if I did not desist from my enterprise. She sobbed, andgroaned, and entreated me not to go. Her excessive fear was somewhatcontagious, and my heart was not proof against her extreme agony. I wasgrievously disappointed, but I promised to relinquish my project. 

When my friend Peter was apprised of this, he was both disappointed andvexed. He said, that judging from our past experience, it would be a longtime before I had such another chance to throw away. I told him it need notbe thrown away; that I had a friend concealed near by, who would be gladenough to take the place that had been provided for me. I told him aboutpoor Fanny, and the kind-hearted, noble fellow, who never turned his backupon any body in distress, white or black, expressed his readiness to helpher. Aggie was much surprised when she found that we knew her secret. Shewas rejoiced to hear of such a chance for Fanny, and arrangements were madefor her to go on board the vessel the next night. They both supposed that Ihad long been at the north, therefore my name was not mentioned in thetransaction. Fanny was carried on board at the appointed time, and stowedaway in a very small cabin. This accommodation had been purchased at aprice that would pay for a voyage to England. But when one proposes to goto fine old England, they stop to calculate whether they can afford thecost of the pleasure; while in making a bargain to escape from slavery, thetrembling victim is ready to say, "take all I have, only don't betray me!"

The next morning I peeped through my loophole, and saw that it was dark andcloudy. At night I received news that the wind was ahead, and the vesselhad not sailed. I was exceedingly anxious about Fanny, and Peter too, whowas running a tremendous risk at my instigation. Next day the wind andweather remained the same. Poor Fanny had been half dead with fright whenthey carried her on board, and I could readily imagine how she must besuffering now. Grandmother came often to my den, to say how thankful shewas I did not go. On the third morning she rapped for me to come down tothe storeroom. The poor old sufferer was breaking down under her weight oftrouble. She was easily flurried now. I found her in a nervous, excitedstate, but I was not aware that she had forgotten to lock the door behindher, as usual. She was exceedingly worried about the detention of thevessel. She was afraid all would be discovered, and then Fanny, and Peter, and I, would all be tortured to death, and Phillip would be utterly ruined, and her house would be torn down. Poor Peter! If he should die such ahorrible death as the poor slave James had lately done, and all for hiskindness in trying to help me, how dreadful it would be for us all! Alas, the thought was familiar to me, and had sent many a sharp pang through myheart. I tried to suppress my own anxiety, and speak soothingly to her. Shebrought in some allusion to aunt Nancy, the dear daughter she had recentlyburied, and then she lost all control of herself. As she stood there, trembling and sobbing, a voice from the piazza called out, "Whar is you, aunt Marthy?" Grandmother was startled, and in her agitation opened thedoor, without thinking of me. In stepped Jenny, the mischievous housemaid, who had tried to enter my room, when I was concealed in the house of mywhite benefactress. "I's bin huntin ebery whar for you, aunt Marthy, " saidshe. "My missis wants you to send her some crackers. " I had slunk downbehind a barrel, which entirely screened me, but I imagined that Jenny waslooking directly at the spot, and my heart beat violently. My grandmotherimmediately thought what she had done, and went out quickly with Jenny tocount the crackers locking the door after her. She returned to me, in a fewminutes, the perfect picture of despair. "Poor child!" she exclaimed, "mycarelessness has ruined you. The boat ain't gone yet. Get readyimmediately, and go with Fanny. I ain't got another word to say against itnow; for there's no telling what may happen this day. "

Uncle Phillip was sent for, and he agreed with his mother in thinking thatJenny would inform Dr. Flint in less than twenty-four hours. He advisedgetting me on board the boat, if possible; if not, I had better keep verystill in my den, where they could not find me without tearing the housedown. He said it would not do for him to move in the matter, becausesuspicion would be immediately excited; but he promised to communicate withPeter. I felt reluctant to apply to him again, having implicated him toomuch already; but there seemed to be no alternative. Vexed as Peter hadbeen by my indecision, he was true to his generous nature, and said at oncethat he would do his best to help me, trusting I should show myself astronger woman this time. 

He immediately proceeded to the wharf, and found that the wind had shifted, and the vessel was slowly beating down stream. On some pretext of urgentnecessity, he offered two boatmen a dollar apiece to catch up with her. Hewas of lighter complexion than the boatmen he hired, and when the captainsaw them coming so rapidly, he thought officers were pursuing his vessel insearch of the runaway slave he had on board. They hoisted sails, but theboat gained upon them, and the indefatigable Peter sprang on board. 

The captain at once recognized him. Peter asked him to go below, to speakabout a bad bill he had given him. When he told his errand, the captainreplied, "Why, the woman's here already; and I've put her where you or thedevil would have a tough job to find her. "

"But it is another woman I want to bring, " said Peter. "_She_ is in greatdistress, too, and you shall be paid any thing within reason, if you'llstop and take her. "

"What's her name?" inquired the captain. "Linda, " he replied. 

"That's the name of the woman already here, " rejoined the captain. "ByGeorge! I believe you mean to betray me. "

"O!" exclaimed Peter, "God knows I wouldn't harm a hair of your head. I amtoo grateful to you. But there really _is_ another woman in great danger. Do have the humanity to stop and take her!"

After a while they came to an understanding. Fanny, not dreaming I was anywhere about in that region, had assumed my name, though she called herselfJohnson. "Linda is a common name, " said Peter, "and the woman I want tobring is Linda Brent. "

The captain agreed to wait at a certain place till evening, beinghandsomely paid for his detention. 

Of course, the day was an anxious one for us all. But we concluded that ifJenny had seen me, she would be too wise to let her mistress know of it;and that she probably would not get a chance to see Dr. Flint's family tillevening, for I knew very well what were the rules in that household. Iafterwards believed that she did not see me; for nothing ever came of it, and she was one of those base characters that would have jumped to betray asuffering fellow being for the sake of thirty pieces of silver. 

I made all my arrangements to go on board as soon as it was dusk. Theintervening time I resolved to spend with my son. I had not spoken to himfor seven years, though I had been under the same roof, and seen him everyday, when I was well enough to sit at the loophole. I did not dare toventure beyond the storeroom; so they brought him there, and locked us uptogether, in a place concealed from the piazza door. It was an agitatinginterview for both of us. After we had talked and wept together for alittle while, he said, "Mother, I'm glad you're going away. I wish I couldgo with you. I knew you was here; and I have been _so_ afraid they wouldcome and catch you!" I was greatly surprised, and asked him how he hadfound it out. 

He replied, "I was standing under the eaves, one day, before Ellen wentaway, and I heard somebody cough up over the wood shed. I don't know whatmade me think it was you, but I did think so. I missed Ellen, the nightbefore she went away; and grandmother brought her back into the room in thenight; and I thought maybe she'd been to see _you_, before she went, for Iheard grandmother whisper to her, 'Now go to sleep; and remember never totell. '"

I asked him if he ever mentioned his suspicions to his sister. He said henever did; but after he heard the cough, if he saw her playing with otherchildren on that side of the house, he always tried to coax her round tothe other side, for fear they would hear me cough, too. He said he had kepta close lookout for Dr. Flint, and if he saw him speak to a constable, or apatrol, he always told grandmother. I now recollected that I had seen himmanifest uneasiness, when people were on that side of the house, and I hadat the time been puzzled to conjecture a motive for his actions. Suchprudence may seem extraordinary in a boy of twelve years, but slaves, beingsurrounded by mysteries, deceptions, and dangers, early learn to besuspicious and watchful, and prematurely cautious and cunning. He had neverasked a question of grandmother, or uncle Phillip, and I had often heardhim chime in with other children, when they spoke of my being at the north. 

I told him I was now really going to the Free States, and if he was a good, honest boy, and a loving child to his dear old grandmother, the Lord wouldbless him, and bring him to me, and we and Ellen would live together. Hebegan to tell me that grandmother had not eaten any thing all day. While hewas speaking, the door was unlocked, and she came in with a small bag ofmoney, which she wanted me to take. I begged her to keep a part of it, atleast, to pay for Benny's being sent to the north; but she insisted, whileher tears were falling fast, that I should take the whole. "You may be sickamong strangers, " she said, "and they would send you to the poorhouse todie. " Ah, that good grandmother!

For the last time I went up to my nook. Its desolate appearance no longerchilled me, for the light of hope had risen in my soul. Yet, even with theblessed prospect of freedom before me, I felt very sad at leaving foreverthat old homestead, where I had been sheltered so long by the dear oldgrandmother; where I had dreamed my first young dream of love; and where, after that had faded away, my children came to twine themselves so closelyround my desolate heart. As the hour approached for me to leave, I againdescended to the storeroom. My grandmother and Benny were there. She tookme by the hand, and said, "Linda, let us pray. " We knelt down together, with my child pressed to my heart, and my other arm round the faithful, loving old friend I was about to leave forever. On no other occasion has itever been my lot to listen to so fervent a supplication for mercy andprotection. It thrilled through my heart, and inspired me with trust inGod. 

Peter was waiting for me in the street. I was soon by his side, faint inbody, but strong of purpose. I did not look back upon the old place, thoughI felt that I should never see it again. 

XXX. Northward Bound. 

I never could tell how we reached the wharf. My brain was all of a whirl, and my limbs tottered under me. At an appointed place we met my unclePhillip, who had started before us on a different route, that he mightreach the wharf first, and give us timely warning if there was any danger. A row-boat was in readiness. As I was about to step in, I felt somethingpull me gently, and turning round I saw Benny, looking pale and anxious. Hewhispered in my ear, "I've been peeping into the doctor's window, and he'sat home. Good by, mother. Don't cry; I'll come. " He hastened away. Iclasped the hand of my good uncle, to whom I owed so much, and of Peter, the brave, generous friend who had volunteered to run such terrible risksto secure my safety. To this day I remember how his bright face beamed withjoy, when he told me he had discovered a safe method for me to escape. Yetthat intelligent, enterprising, noble-hearted man was a chattel! Liable, bythe laws of a country that calls itself civilized, to be sold with horsesand pigs! We parted in silence. Our hearts were all too full for words!

Swiftly the boat glided over the water. After a while, one of the sailorssaid, "Don't be down-hearted, madam. We will take you safely to yourhusband, in ----. " At first I could not imagine what he meant; but I hadpresence of mind to think that it probably referred to something thecaptain had told him; so I thanked him, and said I hoped we should havepleasant weather. 

When I entered the vessel the captain came forward to meet me. He was anelderly man, with a pleasant countenance. He showed me to a little box of acabin, where sat my friend Fanny. She started as if she had seen a spectre. She gazed on me in utter astonishment, and exclaimed, "Linda, can this be_you_? or is it your ghost?" When we were locked in each other's arms, myoverwrought feelings could no longer be restrained. My sobs reached theears of the captain, who came and very kindly reminded us, that for hissafety, as well as our own, it would be prudent for us not to attract anyattention. He said that when there was a sail in sight he wished us to keepbelow; but at other times, he had no objection to our being on deck. Heassured us that he would keep a good lookout, and if we acted prudently, hethought we should be in no danger. He had represented us as women going tomeet our husbands in ----. We thanked him, and promised to observecarefully all the directions he gave us. 

Fanny and I now talked by ourselves, low and quietly, in our little cabin. She told me of the suffering she had gone through in making her escape, andof her terrors while she was concealed in her mother's house. Above all, she dwelt on the agony of separation from all her children on that dreadfulauction day. She could scarcely credit me, when I told her of the placewhere I had passed nearly seven years. "We have the same sorrows, " said I. "No, " replied she, "you are going to see your children soon, and there isno hope that I shall ever even hear from mine. "

The vessel was soon under way, but we made slow progress. The wind wasagainst us, I should not have cared for this, if we had been out of sightof the town; but until there were miles of water between us and ourenemies, we were filled with constant apprehensions that the constableswould come on board. Neither could I feel quite at ease with the captainand his men. I was an entire stranger to that class of people, and I hadheard that sailors were rough, and sometimes cruel. We were so completelyin their power, that if they were bad men, our situation would be dreadful. Now that the captain was paid for our passage, might he not be tempted tomake more money by giving us up to those who claimed us as property? I wasnaturally of a confiding disposition, but slavery had made me suspicious ofevery body. Fanny did not share my distrust of the captain or his men. Shesaid she was afraid at first, but she had been on board three days whilethe vessel lay in the dock, and nobody had betrayed her, or treated herotherwise than kindly. 

The captain soon came to advise us to go on deck for fresh air. Hisfriendly and respectful manner, combined with Fanny's testimony, reassuredme, and we went with him. He placed us in a comfortable seat, andoccasionally entered into conversation. He told us he was a Southerner bybirth, and had spent the greater part of his life in the Slave States, andthat he had recently lost a brother who traded in slaves. "But, " said he, "it is a pitiable and degrading business, and I always felt ashamed toacknowledge my brother in connection with it. " As we passed Snaky Swamp, hepointed to it, and said, "There is a slave territory that defies all thelaws. " I thought of the terrible days I had spent there, and though it wasnot called Dismal Swamp, it made me feel very dismal as I looked at it. 

I shall never forget that night. The balmy air of spring was so refreshing!And how shall I describe my sensations when we were fairly sailing onChesapeake Bay? O, the beautiful sunshine! the exhilarating breeze! And Icould enjoy them without fear or restraint. I had never realized what grandthings air and sunlight are till I had been deprived of them. 

Ten days after we left land we were approaching Philadelphia. The captainsaid we should arrive there in the night, but he thought we had better waittill morning, and go on shore in broad daylight, as the best way to avoidsuspicion. 

I replied, "You know best. But will you stay on board and protect us?"

He saw that I was suspicious, and he said he was sorry, now that he hadbrought us to the end of our voyage, to find I had so little confidence inhim. Ah, if he had ever been a slave he would have known how difficult itwas to trust a white man. He assured us that we might sleep through thenight without fear; that he would take care we were not left unprotected. Be it said to the honor of this captain, Southerner as he was, that ifFanny and I had been white ladies, and our passage lawfully engaged, hecould not have treated us more respectfully. My intelligent friend, Peter, had rightly estimated the character of the man to whose honor he hadintrusted us. The next morning I was on deck as soon as the day dawned. Icalled Fanny to see the sun rise, for the first time in our lives, on freesoil; for such I _then_ believed it to be. We watched the reddening sky, and saw the great orb come up slowly out of the water, as it seemed. Soonthe waves began to sparkle, and every thing caught the beautiful glow. Before us lay the city of strangers. We looked at each other, and the eyesof both were moistened with tears. We had escaped from slavery, and wesupposed ourselves to be safe from the hunters. But we were alone in theworld, and we had left dear ties behind us; ties cruelly sundered by thedemon Slavery. 

XXXI. Incidents In Philadelphia. 

I had heard that the poor slave had many friends at the north. I trusted weshould find some of them. Meantime, we would take it for granted that allwere friends, till they proved to the contrary. I sought out the kindcaptain, thanked him for his attentions, and told him I should never ceaseto be grateful for the service he had rendered us. I gave him a message tothe friends I had left at home, and he promised to deliver it. We wereplaced in a row-boat, and in about fifteen minutes were landed on a woodwharf in Philadelphia. As I stood looking round, the friendly captaintouched me on the shoulder, and said, "There is a respectable-lookingcolored man behind you. I will speak to him about the New York trains, andtell him you wish to go directly on. " I thanked him, and asked him todirect me to some shops where I could buy gloves and veils. He did so, andsaid he would talk with the colored man till I returned. I made what hasteI could. Constant exercise on board the vessel, and frequent rubbing withsalt water, had nearly restored the use of my limbs. The noise of the greatcity confused me, but I found the shops, and bought some double veils andgloves for Fanny and myself. The shopman told me they were so many levies. I had never heard the word before, but I did not tell him so. I thought ifhe knew I was a stranger he might ask me where I came from. I gave him agold piece, and when he returned the change, I counted it, and found outhow much a levy was. I made my way back to the wharf, where the captainintroduced me to the colored man, as the Rev. Jeremiah Durham, minister ofBethel church. He took me by the hand, as if I had been an old friend. Hetold us we were too late for the morning cars to New York, and must waituntil the evening, or the next morning. He invited me to go home with him, assuring me that his wife would give me a cordial welcome; and for myfriend he would provide a home with one of his neighbors. I thanked him forso much kindness to strangers, and told him if I must be detained, I shouldlike to hunt up some people who formerly went from our part of the country. Mr. Durham insisted that I should dine with him, and then he would assistme in finding my friends. The sailors came to bid us good by. I shook theirhardy hands, with tears in my eyes. They had all been kind to us, and theyhad rendered us a greater service than they could possibly conceive of. 

I had never seen so large a city, or been in contact with so many people inthe streets. It seemed as if those who passed looked at us with anexpression of curiosity. My face was so blistered and peeled, by sitting ondeck, in wind and sunshine, that I thought they could not easily decide towhat nation I belonged. 

Mrs. Durham met me with a kindly welcome, without asking any questions. Iwas tired, and her friendly manner was a sweet refreshment. God bless her!I was sure that she had comforted other weary hearts, before I received hersympathy. She was surrounded by her husband and children, in a home madesacred by protecting laws. I thought of my own children, and sighed. 

After dinner Mr. Durham went with me in quest of the friends I had spokenof. They went from my native town, and I anticipated much pleasure inlooking on familiar faces. They were not at home, and we retracted oursteps through streets delightfully clean. On the way, Mr. Durham observedthat I had spoken to him of a daughter I expected to meet; that he wassurprised, for I looked so young he had taken me for a single woman. He wasapproaching a subject on which I was extremely sensitive. He would askabout my husband next, I thought, and if I answered him truly, what wouldhe think of me? I told him I had two children, one in New York the other atthe south. He asked some further questions, and I frankly told him some ofthe most important events of my life. It was painful for me to do it; but Iwould not deceive him. If he was desirous of being my friend, I thought heought to know how far I was worthy of it. "Excuse me, if I have tried yourfeelings, " said he. "I did not question you from idle curiosity. I wantedto understand your situation, in order to know whether I could be of anyservice to you, or your little girl. Your straight-forward answers do youcredit; but don't answer every body so openly. It might give some heartlesspeople a pretext for treating you with contempt. "

That word _contempt_ burned me like coals of fire. I replied, "God aloneknows how I have suffered; and He, I trust, will forgive me. If I ampermitted to have my children, I intend to be a good mother, and to live insuch a manner that people cannot treat me with contempt. "

"I respect your sentiments, " said he. "Place your trust in God, and begoverned by good principles, and you will not fail to find friends. "

When we reached home, I went to my room, glad to shut out the world for awhile. The words he had spoken made an indelible impression upon me. Theybrought up great shadows from the mournful past. In the midst of mymeditations I was startled by a knock at the door. Mrs. Durham entered, herface all beaming with kindness, to say that there was an anti-slaveryfriend down stairs, who would like to see me. I overcame my dread ofencountering strangers, and went with her. Many questions were askedconcerning my experiences, and my escape from slavery; but I observed howcareful they all were not to say any thing that might wound my feelings. How gratifying this was, can be fully understood only by those who havebeen accustomed to be treated as if they were not included within the paleof human beings. The anti-slavery friend had come to inquire into my plans, and to offer assistance, if needed. Fanny was comfortably established, forthe present, with a friend of Mr. Durham. The Anti-Slavery Society agreedto pay her expenses to New York. The same was offered to me, but I declinedto accept it, telling them that my grandmother had given me sufficient topay my expenses to the end of my journey. We were urged to remain inPhiladelphia a few days, until some suitable escort could be found for us. I gladly accepted the proposition, for I had a dread of meetingslaveholders, and some dread also of railroads. I had never entered arailroad car in my life, and it seemed to me quite an important event. 

That night I sought my pillow with feelings I had never carried to itbefore. I verily believed myself to be a free woman. I was wakeful for along time, and I had no sooner fallen asleep, than I was roused byfire-bells. I jumped up, and hurried on my clothes. Where I came from, every body hastened to dress themselves on such occasions. The white peoplethought a great fire might be used as a good opportunity for insurrection, and that it was best to be in readiness; and the colored people wereordered out to labor in extinguishing the flames. There was but one enginein our town, and colored women and children were often required to drag itto the river's edge and fill it. Mrs. Durham's daughter slept in the sameroom with me, and seeing that she slept through all the din, I thought itwas my duty to wake her. "What's the matter?" said she, rubbing her eyes. 

"They're screaming fire in the streets, and the bells are ringing, " Ireplied. 

"What of that?" said she, drowsily. "We are used to it. We never get up, without the fire is very near. What good would it do?"

I was quite surprised that it was not necessary for us to go and help fillthe engine. I was an ignorant child, just beginning to learn how thingswent on in great cities. 

At daylight, I heard women crying fresh fish, berries, radishes, andvarious other things. All this was new to me. I dressed myself at an earlyhour, and sat at the window to watch that unknown tide of life. Philadelphia seemed to me a wonderfully great place. At the breakfasttable, my idea of going out to drag the engine was laughed over, and Ijoined in the mirth. 

I went to see Fanny, and found her so well contented among her new friendsthat she was in no haste to leave. I was also very happy with my kindhostess. She had had advantages for education, and was vastly my superior. Every day, almost every hour, I was adding to my little stock of knowledge. She took me out to see the city as much as she deemed prudent. One day shetook me to an artist's room, and showed me the portraits of some of herchildren. I had never seen any paintings of colored people before, and theyseemed to be beautiful. 

At the end of five days, one of Mrs. Durham's friends offered to accompanyus to New York the following morning. As I held the hand of my good hostessin a parting clasp, I longed to know whether her husband had repeated toher what I had told him. I supposed he had, but she never made any allusionto it. I presume it was the delicate silence of womanly sympathy. 

When Mr. Durham handed us our tickets, he said, "I am afraid you will havea disagreeable ride; but I could not procure tickets for the first-classcars. "

Supposing I had not given him money enough, I offered more. "O, no, " saidhe, "they could not be had for any money. They don't allow colored peopleto go in the first-class cars. "

This was the first chill to my enthusiasm about the Free States. Coloredpeople were allowed to ride in a filthy box, behind white people, at thesouth, but there they were not required to pay for the privilege. It mademe sad to find how the north aped the customs of slavery. 

We were stowed away in a large, rough car, with windows on each side, toohigh for us to look out without standing up. It was crowded with people, apparently of all nations. There were plenty of beds and cradles, containing screaming and kicking babies. Every other man had a cigar orpipe in his mouth, and jugs of whiskey were handed round freely. The fumesof the whiskey and the dense tobacco smoke were sickening to my senses, andmy mind was equally nauseated by the coarse jokes and ribald songs aroundme. It was a very disagreeable ride. Since that time there has been someimprovement in these matters. 

XXXII. The Meeting Of Mother And Daughter. 

When we arrived in New York, I was half crazed by the crowd of coachmencalling out, "Carriage, ma'am?" We bargained with one to take us toSullivan Street for twelve shillings. A burly Irishman stepped up and said, "I'll tak' ye for sax shillings. " The reduction of half the price was anobject to us, and we asked if he could take us right away. "Troth an Iwill, ladies, " he replied. I noticed that the hackmen smiled at each other, and I inquired whether his conveyance was decent. "Yes, it's dacent it is, marm. Devil a bit would I be after takin' ladies in a cab that was notdacent. " We gave him our checks. He went for the baggage, and soonreappeared, saying, "This way, if you plase, ladies. " We followed, andfound our trunks on a truck, and we were invited to take our seats on them. We told him that was not what we bargained for, and he must take the trunksoff. He swore they should not be touched till we had paid him sixshillings. In our situation it was not prudent to attract attention, and Iwas about to pay him what he required, when a man near by shook his headfor me not to do it. After a great ado we got rid of the Irishman, and hadour trunks fastened on a hack. We had been recommended to a boarding-housein Sullivan Street, and thither we drove. There Fanny and I separated. TheAnti-Slavery Society provided a home for her, and I afterwards heard of herin prosperous circumstances. I sent for an old friend from my part of thecountry, who had for some time been doing business in New York. He cameimmediately. I told him I wanted to go to my daughter, and asked him to aidme in procuring an interview. 

I cautioned him not to let it be known to the family that I had justarrived from the south, because they supposed I had been at the north sevenyears. He told me there was a colored woman in Brooklyn who came from thesame town I did, and I had better go to her house, and have my daughtermeet me there. I accepted the proposition thankfully, and he agreed toescort me to Brooklyn. We crossed Fulton ferry, went up Myrtle Avenue, andstopped at the house he designated. I was just about to enter, when twogirls passed. My friend called my attention to them. I turned, andrecognized in the eldest, Sarah, the daughter of a woman who used to livewith my grandmother, but who had left the south years ago. Surprised andrejoiced at this unexpected meeting, I threw my arms round her, andinquired concerning her mother. 

"You take no notice of the other girl, " said my friend. I turned, and therestood my Ellen! I pressed her to my heart, then held her away from me totake a look at her. She had changed a good deal in the two years since Iparted from her. Signs of neglect could be discerned by eyes less observingthan a mother's. My friend invited us all to go into the house; but Ellensaid she had been sent of an errand, which she would do as quickly aspossible, and go home and ask Mrs. Hobbs to let her come and see me. It wasagreed that I should send for her the next day. Her companion, Sarah, hastened to tell her mother of my arrival. When I entered the house, Ifound the mistress of it absent, and I waited for her return. Before I sawher, I heard her saying, "Where is Linda Brent? I used to know her fatherand mother. " Soon Sarah came with her mother. So there was quite a companyof us, all from my grandmother's neighborhood. These friends gathered roundme and questioned me eagerly. They laughed, they cried, and they shouted. They thanked God that I had got away from my persecutors and was safe onLong Island. It was a day of great excitement. How different from thesilent days I had passed in my dreary den!

The next morning was Sunday. My first waking thoughts were occupied withthe note I was to send to Mrs. Hobbs, the lady with whom Ellen lived. ThatI had recently come into that vicinity was evident; otherwise I should havesooner inquired for my daughter. It would not do to let them know I hadjust arrived from the south, for that would involve the suspicion of myhaving been harbored there, and might bring trouble, if not ruin, onseveral people. 

I like a straightforward course, and am always reluctant to resort tosubterfuges. So far as my ways have been crooked, I charge them all uponslavery. It was that system of violence and wrong which now left me noalternative but to enact a falsehood. I began my note by stating that I hadrecently arrived from Canada, and was very desirous to have my daughtercome to see me. She came and brought a message from Mrs. Hobbs, inviting meto her house, and assuring me that I need not have any fears. Theconversation I had with my child did not leave my mind at ease. When Iasked if she was well treated, she answered yes; but there was noheartiness in the tone, and it seemed to me that she said it from anunwillingness to have me troubled on her account. Before she left me, sheasked very earnestly, "Mother, will you take me to live with you?" It mademe sad to think that I could not give her a home till I went to work andearned the means; and that might take me a long time. When she was placedwith Mrs. Hobbs, the agreement was that she should be sent to school Shehad been there two years, and was now nine years old, and she scarcely knewher letters. There was no excuse for this, for there were good publicschools in Brooklyn, to which she could have been sent without expense. 

She staid with me till dark, and I went home with her. I was received in afriendly manner by the family, and all agreed in saying that Ellen was auseful, good girl. Mrs. Hobbs looked me coolly in the face, and said, "Isuppose you know that my cousin, Mr. Sands, has _given_ her to my eldestdaughter. She will make a nice waiting-maid for her when she grows up. " Idid not answer a word. How _could_ she, who knew by experience the strengthof a mother's love, and who was perfectly aware of the relation Mr. Sandsbore to my children, --how _could_ she look me in the face, while she thrustsuch a dagger into my heart?

I was no longer surprised that they had kept her in such a state ofignorance. Mr. Hobbs had formerly been wealthy, but he had failed, andafterwards obtained a subordinate situation in the Custom House. Perhapsthey expected to return to the south some day; and Ellen's knowledge wasquite sufficient for a slave's condition. I was impatient to go to work andearn money, that I might change the uncertain position of my children. Mr. Sands had not kept his promise to emancipate them. I had also been deceivedabout Ellen. What security had I with regard to Benjamin? I felt that I hadnone. 

I returned to my friend's house in an uneasy state of mind. In order toprotect my children, it was necessary that I should own myself. I calledmyself free, and sometimes felt so; but I knew I was insecure. I sat downthat night and wrote a civil letter to Dr. Flint, asking him to state thelowest terms on which he would sell me; and as I belonged by law to hisdaughter, I wrote to her also, making a similar request. 

Since my arrival at the north I had not been unmindful of my dear brotherWilliam. I had made diligent inquiries for him, and having heard of him inBoston, I went thither. When I arrived there, I found he had gone to NewBedford. I wrote to that place, and was informed he had gone on a whalingvoyage, and would not return for some months. I went back to New York toget employment near Ellen. I received an answer from Dr. Flint, which gaveme no encouragement. He advised me to return and submit myself to myrightful owners, and then any request I might make would be granted. I lentthis letter to a friend, who lost it; otherwise I would present a copy tomy readers. 

XXXIII. A Home Found. 

My greatest anxiety now was to obtain employment. My health was greatlyimproved, though my limbs continued to trouble me with swelling whenever Iwalked much. The greatest difficulty in my way was, that those who employedstrangers required a recommendation; and in my peculiar position, I could, of course, obtain no certificates from the families I had so faithfullyserved. 

One day an acquaintance told me of a lady who wanted a nurse for her babe, and I immediately applied for the situation. The lady told me she preferredto have one who had been a mother, and accustomed to the care of infants. Itold her I had nursed two babes of my own. She asked me many questions, but, to my great relief, did not require a recommendation from my formeremployers. She told me she was an English woman, and that was a pleasantcircumstance to me, because I had heard they had less prejudice againstcolor than Americans entertained. It was agreed that we should try eachother for a week. The trial proved satisfactory to both parties, and I wasengaged for a month. 

The heavenly Father had been most merciful to me in leading me to thisplace. Mrs. Bruce was a kind and gentle lady, and proved a true andsympathizing friend. Before the stipulated month expired, the necessity ofpassing up and down stairs frequently, caused my limbs to swell sopainfully, that I became unable to perform my duties. Many ladies wouldhave thoughtlessly discharged me; but Mrs. Bruce made arrangements to saveme steps, and employed a physician to attend upon me. I had not yet toldher that I was a fugitive slave. She noticed that I was often sad, andkindly inquired the cause. I spoke of being separated from my children, andfrom relatives who were dear to me; but I did not mention the constantfeeling of insecurity which oppressed my spirits. I longed for some one toconfide it; but I had been so deceived by white people, that I had lost allconfidence in them. If they spoke kind words to me, I thought it was forsome selfish purpose. I had entered this family with the distrustfulfeelings I had brought with me out of slavery; but ere six months hadpassed, I found that the gentle deportment of Mrs. Bruce and the smiles ofher lovely babe were thawing my chilled heart. My narrow mind also began toexpand under the influences of her intelligent conversation, and theopportunities for reading, which were gladly allowed me whenever I hadleisure from my duties. I gradually became more energetic and morecheerful. 

The old feeling of insecurity, especially with regard to my children, oftenthrew its dark shadow across my sunshine. Mrs. Bruce offered me a home forEllen; but pleasant as it would have been, I did not dare to accept it, forfear of offending the Hobbs family. Their knowledge of my precarioussituation placed me in their power; and I felt that it was important for meto keep on the right side of them, till, by dint of labor and economy, Icould make a home for my children. I was far from feeling satisfied withEllen's situation. She was not well cared for. She sometimes came to NewYork to visit me; but she generally brought a request from Mrs. Hobbs thatI would buy her a pair of shoes, or some article of clothing. This wasaccompanied by a promise of payment when Mr. Hobbs's salary at the CustomHouse became due; but some how or other the pay-day never came. Thus manydollars of my earnings were expended to keep my child comfortably clothed. That, however, was a slight trouble, compared with the fear that theirpecuniary embarrassments might induce them to sell my precious youngdaughter. I knew they were in constant communication with Southerners, andhad frequent opportunities to do it. I have stated that when Dr. Flint putEllen in jail, at two years old, she had an inflammation of the eyes, occasioned by measles. This disease still troubled her; and kind Mrs. Bruceproposed that she should come to New York for a while, to be under the careof Dr. Elliott, a well known oculist. It did not occur to me that there wasany thing improper in a mother's making such a request; but Mrs. Hobbs wasvery angry, and refused to let her go. Situated as I was, it was notpolitic to insist upon it. I made no complaint, but I longed to be entirelyfree to act a mother's part towards my children. The next time I went overto Brooklyn, Mrs. Hobbs, as if to apologize for her anger, told me she hademployed her own physician to attend to Ellen's eyes, and that she hadrefused my request because she did not consider it safe to trust her in NewYork. I accepted the explanation in silence; but she had told me that mychild _belonged_ to her daughter, and I suspected that her real motive wasa fear of my conveying her property away from her. Perhaps I did herinjustice; but my knowledge of Southerners made it difficult for me to feelotherwise. 

Sweet and bitter were mixed in the cup of my life, and I was thankful thatit had ceased to be entirely bitter. I loved Mrs. Bruce's babe. When itlaughed and crowed in my face, and twined its little tender armsconfidingly about my neck, it made me think of the time when Benny andEllen were babies, and my wounded heart was soothed. One bright morning, asI stood at the window, tossing baby in my arms, my attention was attractedby a young man in sailor's dress, who was closely observing every house ashe passed. I looked at him earnestly. Could it be my brother William? It_must_ be he--and yet, how changed! I placed the baby safely, flew downstairs, opened the front door, beckoned to the sailor, and in less than aminute I was clasped in my brother's arms. How much we had to tell eachother! How we laughed, and how we cried, over each other's adventures! Itook him to Brooklyn, and again saw him with Ellen, the dear child whom hehad loved and tended so carefully, while I was shut up in my miserable den. He staid in New York a week. His old feelings of affection for me and Ellenwere as lively as ever. There are no bonds so strong as those which areformed by suffering together. 

XXXIV. The Old Enemy Again. 

My young mistress, Miss Emily Flint, did not return any answer to my letterrequesting her to consent to my being sold. But after a while, I received areply, which purported to be written by her younger brother. In orderrightly to enjoy the contents of this letter, the reader must bear in mindthat the Flint family supposed I had been at the north many years. They hadno idea that I knew of the doctor's three excursions to New York in searchof me; that I had heard his voice, when he came to borrow five hundreddollars for that purpose; and that I had seen him pass on his way to thesteamboat. Neither were they aware that all the particulars of aunt Nancy'sdeath and burial were conveyed to me at the time they occurred. I have keptthe letter, of which I herewith subjoin a copy:--

 Your letter to sister was received a few days ago. I gather from it that you are desirous of returning to your native place, among your friends and relatives. We were all gratified with the contents of your letter; and let me assure you that if any members of the family have had any feeling of resentment towards you, they feel it no longer. We all sympathize with you in your unfortunate condition, and are ready to do all in our power to make you contented and happy. It is difficult for you to return home as a free person. If you were purchased by your grandmother, it is doubtful whether you would be permitted to remain, although it would be lawful for you to do so. If a servant should be allowed to purchase herself, after absenting herself so long from her owners, and return free, it would have an injurious effect. From your letter, I think your situation must be hard and uncomfortable. Come home. You have it in your power to be reinstated in our affections. We would receive you with open arms and tears of joy. You need not apprehend any unkind treatment, as we have not put ourselves to any trouble or expense to get you. Had we done so, perhaps we should feel otherwise. You know my sister was always attached to you, and that you were never treated as a slave. You were never put to hard work, nor exposed to field labor. On the contrary, you were taken into the house, and treated as one of us, and almost as free; and we, at least, felt that you were above disgracing yourself by running away. Believing you may be induced to come home voluntarily has induced me to write for my sister. The family will be rejoiced to see you; and your poor old grandmother expressed a great desire to have you come, when she heard your letter read. In her old age she needs the consolation of having her children round her. Doubtless you have heard of the death of your aunt. She was a faithful servant, and a faithful member of the Episcopal church. In her Christian life she taught us how to live--and, O, too high the price of knowledge, she taught us how to die! Could you have seen us round her death bed, with her mother, all mingling our tears in one common stream, you would have thought the same heartfelt tie existed between a master and his servant, as between a mother and her child. But this subject is too painful to dwell upon. I must bring my letter to a close. If you are contented to stay away from your old grandmother, your child, and the friends who love you, stay where you are. We shall never trouble ourselves to apprehend you. But should you prefer to come home, we will do all that we can to make you happy. If you do not wish to remain in the family, I know that father, by our persuasion, will be induced to let you be purchased by any person you may choose in our community. You will please answer this as soon as possible, and let us know your decision. Sister sends much love to you. In the mean time believe me your sincere friend and well wisher. 

This letter was signed by Emily's brother, who was as yet a mere lad. Iknew, by the style, that it was not written by a person of his age, andthough the writing was disguised, I had been made too unhappy by it, informer years, not to recognize at once the hand of Dr. Flint. O, thehypocrisy of slaveholders! Did the old fox suppose I was goose enough to gointo such a trap? Verily, he relied too much on "the stupidity of theAfrican race. " I did not return the family of Flints any thanks for theircordial invitation--a remissness for which I was, no doubt, charged withbase ingratitude. 

Not long afterwards I received a letter from one of my friends at thesouth, informing me that Dr. Flint was about to visit the north. The letterhad been delayed, and I supposed he might be already on the way. Mrs. Brucedid not know I was a fugitive. I told her that important business called meto Boston, where my brother then was, and asked permission to bring afriend to supply my place as nurse, for a fortnight. I started on myjourney immediately; and as soon as I arrived, I wrote to my grandmotherthat if Benny came, he must be sent to Boston. I knew she was only waitingfor a good chance to send him north, and, fortunately, she had the legalpower to do so, without asking leave of any body. She was a free woman; andwhen my children were purchased, Mr. Sands preferred to have the bill ofsale drawn up in her name. It was conjectured that he advanced the money, but it was not known. At the south, a gentleman may have a shoal of coloredchildren without any disgrace; but if he is known to purchase them, withthe view of setting them free, the example is thought to be dangerous totheir "peculiar institution, " and he becomes unpopular. 

There was a good opportunity to send Benny in a vessel coming directly toNew York. He was put on board with a letter to a friend, who was requestedto see him off to Boston. Early one morning, there was a loud rap at mydoor, and in rushed Benjamin, all out of breath. "O mother!" he exclaimed, "here I am! I run all the way; and I come all alone. How d'you do?"

O reader, can you imagine my joy? No, you cannot, unless you have been aslave mother. Benjamin rattled away as fast as his tongue could go. "Mother, why don't you bring Ellen here? I went over to Brooklyn to seeher, and she felt very bad when I bid her good by. She said, 'O Ben, I wishI was going too. ' I thought she'd know ever so much; but she don't know somuch as I do; for I can read, and she can't. And, mother, I lost all myclothes coming. What can I do to get some more? I 'spose free boys can getalong here at the north as well as white boys. "

I did not like to tell the sanguine, happy little fellow how much he wasmistaken. I took him to a tailor, and procured a change of clothes. Therest of the day was spent in mutual asking and answering of questions, withthe wish constantly repeated that the good old grandmother was with us, andfrequent injunctions from Benny to write to her immediately, and be sure totell her every thing about his voyage, and his journey to Boston. 

Dr. Flint made his visit to New York, and made every exertion to call uponme, and invite me to return with him, but not being able to ascertain whereI was, his hospitable intentions were frustrated, and the affectionatefamily, who were waiting for me with "open arms, " were doomed todisappointment. 

As soon as I knew he was safely at home, I placed Benjamin in the care ofmy brother William, and returned to Mrs. Bruce. There I remained throughthe winter and spring, endeavoring to perform my duties faithfully, andfinding a good degree of happiness in the attractions of baby Mary, theconsiderate kindness of her excellent mother, and occasional interviewswith my darling daughter. 

But when summer came, the old feeling of insecurity haunted me. It wasnecessary for me to take little Mary out daily, for exercise and fresh air, and the city was swarming with Southerners, some of whom might recognizeme. Hot weather brings out snakes and slaveholders, and I like one class ofthe venomous creatures as little as I do the other. What a comfort it is, to be free to _say_ so!

XXXV. Prejudice Against Color. 

It was a relief to my mind to see preparations for leaving the city. Wewent to Albany in the steamboat Knickerbocker. When the gong sounded fortea, Mrs. Bruce said, "Linda, it is late, and you and baby had better cometo the table with me. " I replied, "I know it is time baby had her supper, but I had rather not go with you, if you please. I am afraid of beinginsulted. " "O no, not if you are with _me_, " she said. I saw several whitenurses go with their ladies, and I ventured to do the same. We were at theextreme end of the table. I was no sooner seated, than a gruff voice said, "Get up! You know you are not allowed to sit here. " I looked up, and, to myastonishment and indignation, saw that the speaker was a colored man. Ifhis office required him to enforce the by-laws of the boat, he might, atleast, have done it politely. I replied, "I shall not get up, unless thecaptain comes and takes me up. " No cup of tea was offered me, but Mrs. Bruce handed me hers and called for another. I looked to see whether theother nurses were treated in a similar manner. They were all properlywaited on. 

Next morning, when we stopped at Troy for breakfast, every body was makinga rush for the table. Mrs. Bruce said, "Take my arm, Linda, and we'll go intogether. " The landlord heard her, and said, "Madam, will you allow yournurse and baby to take breakfast with my family?" I knew this was to beattributed to my complexion; but he spoke courteously, and therefore I didnot mind it. 

At Saratoga we found the United States Hotel crowded, and Mr. Bruce tookone of the cottages belonging to the hotel. I had thought, with gladness, of going to the quiet of the country, where I should meet few people, buthere I found myself in the midst of a swarm of Southerners. I looked roundme with fear and trembling, dreading to see some one who would recognizeme. I was rejoiced to find that we were to stay but a short time. 

We soon returned to New York, to make arrangements for spending theremainder of the summer at Rockaway. While the laundress was putting theclothes in order, I took an opportunity to go over to Brooklyn to seeEllen. I met her going to a grocery store, and the first words she said, were, "O, mother, don't go to Mrs. Hobbs's. Her brother, Mr. Thorne, hascome from the south, and may be he'll tell where you are. " I accepted thewarning. I told her I was going away with Mrs. Bruce the next day, andwould try to see her when I came back. 

Being in servitude to the Anglo-Saxon race, I was not put into a "Jim Crowcar, " on our way to Rockaway, neither was I invited to ride through thestreets on the top of trunks in a truck; but every where I found the samemanifestations of that cruel prejudice, which so discourages the feelings, and represses the energies of the colored people. We reached Rockawaybefore dark, and put up at the Pavilion--a large hotel, beautifullysituated by the sea-side--a great resort of the fashionable world. Thirtyor forty nurses were there, of a great variety of nations. Some of theladies had colored waiting-maids and coachmen, but I was the only nursetinged with the blood of Africa. When the tea bell rang, I took little Maryand followed the other nurses. Supper was served in a long hall. A youngman, who had the ordering of things, took the circuit of the table two orthree times, and finally pointed me to a seat at the lower end of it. Asthere was but one chair, I sat down and took the child in my lap. Whereuponthe young man came to me and said, in the blandest manner possible, "Willyou please to seat the little girl in the chair, and stand behind it andfeed her? After they have done, you will be shown to the kitchen, where youwill have a good supper. "

This was the climax! I found it hard to preserve my self-control, when Ilooked round, and saw women who were nurses, as I was, and only one shadelighter in complexion, eyeing me with a defiant look, as if my presencewere a contamination. However, I said nothing. I quietly took the child inmy arms, went to our room, and refused to go to the table again. Mr. Bruceordered meals to be sent to the room for little Mary and I. This answeredfor a few days; but the waiters of the establishment were white, and theysoon began to complain, saying they were not hired to wait on negroes. Thelandlord requested Mr. Bruce to send me down to my meals, because hisservants rebelled against bringing them up, and the colored servants ofother boarders were dissatisfied because all were not treated alike. 

My answer was that the colored servants ought to be dissatisfied with_themselves_, for not having too much self-respect to submit to suchtreatment; that there was no difference in the price of board for coloredand white servants, and there was no justification for difference oftreatment. I staid a month after this, and finding I was resolved to standup for my rights, they concluded to treat me well. Let every colored manand woman do this, and eventually we shall cease to be trampled under footby our oppressors. 

XXXVI. The Hairbreadth Escape. 

After we returned to New York, I took the earliest opportunity to go andsee Ellen. I asked to have her called down stairs; for I supposed Mrs. Hobbs's southern brother might still be there, and I was desirous to avoidseeing him, if possible. But Mrs. Hobbs came to the kitchen, and insistedon my going up stairs. "My brother wants to see you, " said she, "and he issorry you seem to shun him. He knows you are living in New York. He told meto say to you that he owes thanks to good old aunt Martha for too manylittle acts of kindness for him to be base enough to betray hergrandchild. "

This Mr. Thorne had become poor and reckless long before he left the south, and such persons had much rather go to one of the faithful old slaves toborrow a dollar, or get a good dinner, than to go to one whom they consideran equal. It was such acts of kindness as these for which he professed tofeel grateful to my grandmother. I wished he had kept at a distance, but ashe was here, and knew where I was, I concluded there was nothing to begained by trying to avoid him; on the contrary, it might be the means ofexciting his ill will. I followed his sister up stairs. He met me in a veryfriendly manner, congratulated me on my escape from slavery, and hoped Ihad a good place, where I felt happy. 

I continued to visit Ellen as often as I could. She, good thoughtful child, never forgot my hazardous situation, but always kept a vigilant lookout formy safety. She never made any complaint about her own inconveniences andtroubles; but a mother's observing eye easily perceived that she was nothappy. On the occasion of one of my visits I found her unusually serious. When I asked her what was the matter, she said nothing was the matter. ButI insisted upon knowing what made her look so very grave. Finally, Iascertained that she felt troubled about the dissipation that wascontinually going on in the house. She was sent to the store very often forrum and brandy, and she felt ashamed to ask for it so often; and Mr. Hobbsand Mr. Thorne drank a great deal, and their hands trembled so that theyhad to call her to pour out the liquor for them. "But for all that, " saidshe, "Mr. Hobbs is good to me, and I can't help liking him. I feel sorryfor him. " I tried to comfort her, by telling her that I had laid up ahundred dollars, and that before long I hoped to be able to give her andBenjamin a home, and send them to school. She was always desirous not toadd to my troubles more than she could help, and I did not discover tillyears afterwards that Mr. Thorne's intemperance was not the only annoyanceshe suffered from him. Though he professed too much gratitude to mygrandmother to injure any of her descendants, he had poured vile languageinto the ears of her innocent great-grandchild. 

I usually went to Brooklyn to spend Sunday afternoon. One Sunday, I foundEllen anxiously waiting for me near the house. "O, mother, " said she, "I'vebeen waiting for you this long time. I'm afraid Mr. Thorne has written totell Dr. Flint where you are. Make haste and come in. Mrs. Hobbs will tellyou all about it!"

The story was soon told. While the children were playing in the grape-vinearbor, the day before, Mr. Thorne came out with a letter in his hand, whichhe tore up and scattered about. Ellen was sweeping the yard at the time, and having her mind full of suspicions of him, she picked up the pieces andcarried them to the children, saying, "I wonder who Mr. Thorne has beenwriting to. "

"I'm sure I don't know, and don't care, " replied the oldest of thechildren; "and I don't see how it concerns you. "

"But it does concern me, " replied Ellen; "for I'm afraid he's beenwriting to the south about my mother. "

They laughed at her, and called her a silly thing, but good-naturedly putthe fragments of writing together, in order to read them to her. They wereno sooner arranged, than the little girl exclaimed, "I declare, Ellen, Ibelieve you are right. "

The contents of Mr. Thorne's letter, as nearly as I can remember, were asfollows: "I have seen your slave, Linda, and conversed with her. She can betaken very easily, if you manage prudently. There are enough of us here toswear to her identity as your property. I am a patriot, a lover of mycountry, and I do this as an act of justice to the laws. " He concluded byinforming the doctor of the street and number where I lived. The childrencarried the pieces to Mrs. Hobbs, who immediately went to her brother'sroom for an explanation. He was not to be found. The servants said they sawhim go out with a letter in his hand, and they supposed he had gone to thepost office. The natural inference was, that he had sent to Dr. Flint acopy of those fragments. When he returned, his sister accused him of it, and he did not deny the charge. He went immediately to his room, and thenext morning he was missing. He had gone over to New York, before any ofthe family were astir. 

It was evident that I had no time to lose; and I hastened back to the citywith a heavy heart. Again I was to be torn from a comfortable home, and allmy plans for the welfare of my children were to be frustrated by that demonSlavery! I now regretted that I never told Mrs. Bruce my story. I had notconcealed it merely on account of being a fugitive; that would have madeher anxious, but it would have excited sympathy in her kind heart. I valuedher good opinion, and I was afraid of losing it, if I told her all theparticulars of my sad story. But now I felt that it was necessary for herto know how I was situated. I had once left her abruptly, withoutexplaining the reason, and it would not be proper to do it again. I wenthome resolved to tell her in the morning. But the sadness of my faceattracted her attention, and, in answer to her kind inquiries, I poured outmy full heart to her, before bed time. She listened with true womanlysympathy, and told me she would do all she could to protect me. How myheart blessed her!

Early the next morning, Judge Vanderpool and Lawyer Hopper were consulted. They said I had better leave the city at once, as the risk would be greatif the case came to trial. Mrs. Bruce took me in a carriage to the house ofone of her friends, where she assured me I should be safe until my brothercould arrive, which would be in a few days. In the interval my thoughtswere much occupied with Ellen. She was mine by birth, and she was also mineby Southern law, since my grandmother held the bill of sale that made herso. I did not feel that she was safe unless I had her with me. Mrs. Hobbs, who felt badly about her brother's treachery, yielded to my entreaties, oncondition that she should return in ten days. I avoided making any promise. She came to me clad in very thin garments, all outgrown, and with a schoolsatchel on her arm, containing a few articles. It was late in October, andI knew the child must suffer; and not daring to go out in the streets topurchase any thing, I took off my own flannel skirt and converted it intoone for her. Kind Mrs. Bruce came to bid me good by, and when she saw thatI had taken off my clothing for my child, the tears came to her eyes. Shesaid, "Wait for me, Linda, " and went out. She soon returned with a nicewarm shawl and hood for Ellen. Truly, of such souls as hers are the kingdomof heaven. 

My brother reached New York on Wednesday. Lawyer Hopper advised us to go toBoston by the Stonington route, as there was less Southern travel in thatdirection. Mrs. Bruce directed her servants to tell all inquirers that Iformerly lived there, but had gone from the city. We reached the steamboatRhode Island in safety. That boat employed colored hands, but I knew thatcolored passengers were not admitted to the cabin. I was very desirous forthe seclusion of the cabin, not only on account of exposure to the nightair, but also to avoid observation. Lawyer Hopper was waiting on board forus. He spoke to the stewardess, and asked, as a particular favor, that shewould treat us well. He said to me, "Go and speak to the captain yourselfby and by. Take your little girl with you, and I am sure that he will notlet her sleep on deck. " With these kind words and a shake of the hand hedeparted. 

The boat was soon on her way, bearing me rapidly from the friendly homewhere I had hoped to find security and rest. My brother had left me topurchase the tickets, thinking that I might have better success than hewould. When the stewardess came to me, I paid what she asked, and she gaveme three tickets with clipped corners. In the most unsophisticated manner Isaid, "You have made a mistake; I asked you for cabin tickets. I cannotpossibly consent to sleep on deck with my little daughter. " She assured methere was no mistake. She said on some of the routes colored people wereallowed to sleep in the cabin, but not on this route, which was muchtravelled by the wealthy. I asked her to show me to the captain's office, and she said she would after tea. When the time came, I took Ellen by thehand and went to the captain, politely requesting him to change ourtickets, as we should be very uncomfortable on deck. He said it wascontrary to their custom, but he would see that we had berths below; hewould also try to obtain comfortable seats for us in the cars; of that hewas not certain, but he would speak to the conductor about it, when theboat arrived. I thanked him, and returned to the ladies' cabin. He cameafterwards and told me that the conductor of the cars was on board, that hehad spoken to him, and he had promised to take care of us. I was very muchsurprised at receiving so much kindness. I don't know whether the pleasingface of my little girl had won his heart, or whether the stewardessinferred from Lawyer Hopper's manner that I was a fugitive, and had pleadedwith him in my behalf. 

When the boat arrived at Stonington, the conductor kept his promise, andshowed us to seats in the first car, nearest the engine. He asked us totake seats next the door, but as he passed through, we ventured to move ontoward the other end of the car. No incivility was offered us, and wereached Boston in safety. 

The day after my arrival was one of the happiest of my life. I felt as if Iwas beyond the reach of the bloodhounds; and, for the first time duringmany years, I had both my children together with me. They greatly enjoyedtheir reunion, and laughed and chatted merrily. I watched them with aswelling heart. Their every motion delighted me. 

I could not feel safe in New York, and I accepted the offer of a friend, that we should share expenses and keep house together. I represented toMrs. Hobbs that Ellen must have some schooling, and must remain with me forthat purpose. She felt ashamed of being unable to read or spell at her age, so instead of sending her to school with Benny, I instructed her myselftill she was fitted to enter an intermediate school. The winter passedpleasantly, while I was busy with my needle, and my children with theirbooks. 

XXXVII. A Visit To England

In the spring, sad news came to me. Mrs. Bruce was dead. Never again, inthis world, should I see her gentle face, or hear her sympathizing voice. Ihad lost an excellent friend, and little Mary had lost a tender mother. Mr. Bruce wished the child to visit some of her mother's relatives in England, and he was desirous that I should take charge of her. The little motherlessone was accustomed to me, and attached to me, and I thought she would behappier in my care than in that of a stranger. I could also earn more inthis way than I could by my needle. So I put Benny to a trade, and leftEllen to remain in the house with my friend and go to school. 

We sailed from New York, and arrived in Liverpool after a pleasant voyageof twelve days. We proceeded directly to London, and took lodgings at theAdelaide Hotel. The supper seemed to me less luxurious than those I hadseen in American hotels; but my situation was indescribably more pleasant. For the first time in my life I was in a place where I was treatedaccording to my deportment, without reference to my complexion. I felt asif a great millstone had been lifted from my breast. Ensconced in apleasant room, with my dear little charge, I laid my head on my pillow, forthe first time, with the delightful consciousness of pure, unadulteratedfreedom. 

As I had constant care of the child, I had little opportunity to see thewonders of that great city; but I watched the tide of life that flowedthrough the streets, and found it a strange contrast to the stagnation inour Southern towns. Mr. Bruce took his little daughter to spend some dayswith friends in Oxford Crescent, and of course it was necessary for me toaccompany her. I had heard much of the systematic method of Englisheducation, and I was very desirous that my dear Mary should steer straightin the midst of so much propriety. I closely observed her little playmatesand their nurses, being ready to take any lessons in the science of goodmanagement. The children were more rosy than American children, but I didnot see that they differed materially in other respects. They were like allchildren--sometimes docile and sometimes wayward. 

We next went to Steventon, in Berkshire. It was a small town, said to bethe poorest in the county. I saw men working in the fields for sixshillings, and seven shillings, a week, and women for sixpence, andsevenpence, a day, out of which they boarded themselves. Of course theylived in the most primitive manner; it could not be otherwise, where awoman's wages for an entire day were not sufficient to buy a pound of meat. They paid very low rents, and their clothes were made of the cheapestfabrics, though much better than could have been procured in the UnitedStates for the same money. I had heard much about the oppression of thepoor in Europe. The people I saw around me were, many of them, among thepoorest poor. But when I visited them in their little thatched cottages, Ifelt that the condition of even the meanest and most ignorant among themwas vastly superior to the condition of the most favored slaves in America. They labored hard; but they were not ordered out to toil while the starswere in the sky, and driven and slashed by an overseer, through heat andcold, till the stars shone out again. Their homes were very humble; butthey were protected by law. No insolent patrols could come, in the dead ofnight, and flog them at their pleasure. The father, when he closed hiscottage door, felt safe with his family around him. No master or overseercould come and take from him his wife, or his daughter. They must separateto earn their living; but the parents knew where their children were going, and could communicate with them by letters. The relations of husband andwife, parent and child, were too sacred for the richest noble in the landto violate with impunity. Much was being done to enlighten these poorpeople. Schools were established among them, and benevolent societies wereactive in efforts to ameliorate their condition. There was no lawforbidding them to learn to read and write; and if they helped each otherin spelling out the Bible, they were in no danger of thirty-nine lashes, aswas the case with myself and poor, pious, old uncle Fred. I repeat that themost ignorant and the most destitute of these peasants was a thousand foldbetter off than the most pampered American slave. 

I do not deny that the poor are oppressed in Europe. I am not disposed topaint their condition so rose-colored as the Hon. Miss Murray paints thecondition of the slaves in the United States. A small portion of _my_experience would enable her to read her own pages with anointed eyes. Ifshe were to lay aside her title, and, instead of visiting among thefashionable, become domesticated, as a poor governess, on some plantationin Louisiana or Alabama, she would see and hear things that would make hertell quite a different story. 

My visit to England is a memorable event in my life, from the fact of myhaving there received strong religious impressions. The contemptuous mannerin which the communion had been administered to colored people, in mynative place; the church membership of Dr. Flint, and others like him; andthe buying and selling of slaves, by professed ministers of the gospel, hadgiven me a prejudice against the Episcopal church. The whole service seemedto me a mockery and a sham. But my home in Steventon was in the family of aclergyman, who was a true disciple of Jesus. The beauty of his daily lifeinspired me with faith in the genuineness of Christian professions. Graceentered my heart, and I knelt at the communion table, I trust, in truehumility of soul. 

I remained abroad ten months, which was much longer than I had anticipated. During all that time, I never saw the slightest symptom of prejudiceagainst color. Indeed, I entirely forgot it, till the time came for us toreturn to America. 

XXXVIII. Renewed Invitations To Go South. 

We had a tedious winter passage, and from the distance spectres seemed torise up on the shores of the United States. It is a sad feeling to beafraid of one's native country. We arrived in New York safely, and Ihastened to Boston to look after my children. I found Ellen well, andimproving at her school; but Benny was not there to welcome me. He had beenleft at a good place to learn a trade, and for several months every thingworked well. He was liked by the master, and was a favorite with hisfellow-apprentices; but one day they accidentally discovered a fact theyhad never before suspected--that he was colored! This at once transformedhim into a different being. Some of the apprentices were Americans, othersAmerican-born Irish; and it was offensive to their dignity to have a"nigger" among them, after they had been told that he _was_ a "nigger. "They began by treating him with silent scorn, and finding that he returnedthe same, they resorted to insults and abuse. He was too spirited a boy tostand that, and he went off. Being desirous to do something to supporthimself, and having no one to advise him, he shipped for a whaling voyage. When I received these tidings I shed many tears, and bitterly reproachedmyself for having left him so long. But I had done it for the best, and nowall I could do was to pray to the heavenly Father to guide and protect him. 

Not long after my return, I received the following letter from Miss EmilyFlint, now Mrs. Dodge:--

 In this you will recognize the hand of your friend and mistress. Having heard that you had gone with a family to Europe, I have waited to hear of your return to write to you. I should have answered the letter you wrote to me long since, but as I could not then act independently of my father, I knew there could be nothing done satisfactory to you. There were persons here who were willing to buy you and run the risk of getting you. To this I would not consent. I have always been attached to you, and would not like to see you the slave of another, or have unkind treatment. I am married now, and can protect you. My husband expects to move to Virginia this spring, where we think of settling. I am very anxious that you should come and live with me. If you are not willing to come, you may purchase yourself; but I should prefer having you live with me. If you come, you may, if you like, spend a month with your grandmother and friends, then come to me in Norfolk, Virginia. Think this over, and write as soon as possible, and let me know the conclusion. Hoping that your children are well, I remain your friend and mistress. 

Of course I did not write to return thanks for this cordial invitation. Ifelt insulted to be thought stupid enough to be caught by such professions. 

 "Come up into my parlor, " said the spider to the fly; "Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy. "

It was plain that Dr. Flint's family were apprised of my movements, sincethey knew of my voyage to Europe. I expected to have further trouble fromthem; but having eluded them thus far, I hoped to be as successful infuture. The money I had earned, I was desirous to devote to the educationof my children, and to secure a home for them. It seemed not only hard, butunjust, to pay for myself. I could not possibly regard myself as a piece ofproperty. Moreover, I had worked many years without wages, and during thattime had been obliged to depend on my grandmother for many comforts in foodand clothing. My children certainly belonged to me; but though Dr. Flinthad incurred no expense for their support, he had received a large sum ofmoney for them. I knew the law would decide that I was his property, andwould probably still give his daughter a claim to my children; but Iregarded such laws as the regulations of robbers, who had no rights that Iwas bound to respect. 

The Fugitive Slave Law had not then passed. The judges of Massachusetts hadnot then stooped under chains to enter her courts of justice, so called. Iknew my old master was rather skittish of Massachusetts. I relied on herlove of freedom, and felt safe on her soil. I am now aware that I honoredthe old Commonwealth beyond her deserts. 

XXXIX. The Confession. 

For two years my daughter and I supported ourselves comfortably in Boston. At the end of that time, my brother William offered to send Ellen to aboarding school. It required a great effort for me to consent to part withher, for I had few near ties, and it was her presence that made my twolittle rooms seem home-like. But my judgment prevailed over my selfishfeelings. I made preparations for her departure. During the two years wehad lived together I had often resolved to tell her something about herfather; but I had never been able to muster sufficient courage. I had ashrinking dread of diminishing my child's love. I knew she must havecuriosity on the subject, but she had never asked a question. She wasalways very careful not to say any thing to remind me of my troubles. Nowthat she was going from me, I thought if I should die before she returned, she might hear my story from some one who did not understand the palliatingcircumstances; and that if she were entirely ignorant on the subject, hersensitive nature might receive a rude shock. 

When we retired for the night, she said, "Mother, it is very hard to leaveyou alone. I am almost sorry I am going, though I do want to improvemyself. But you will write to me often; won't you, mother?"

I did not throw my arms round her. I did not answer her. But in a calm, solemn way, for it cost me great effort, I said, "Listen to me, Ellen; Ihave something to tell you!" I recounted my early sufferings in slavery, and told her how nearly they had crushed me. I began to tell her how theyhad driven me into a great sin, when she clasped me in her arms, andexclaimed, "O, don't, mother! Please don't tell me any more. "

I said, "But, my child, I want you to know about your father. "

"I know all about it, mother, " she replied; "I am nothing to my father, andhe is nothing to me. All my love is for you. I was with him five months inWashington, and he never cared for me. He never spoke to me as he did tohis little Fanny. I knew all the time he was my father, for Fanny's nursetold me so, but she said I must never tell any body, and I never did. Iused to wish he would take me in his arms and kiss me, as he did Fanny; orthat he would sometimes smile at me, as he did at her. I thought if he wasmy own father, he ought to love me. I was a little girl then, and didn'tknow any better. But now I never think any thing about my father. All mylove is for you. " She hugged me closer as she spoke, and I thanked God thatthe knowledge I had so much dreaded to impart had not diminished theaffection of my child. I had not the slightest idea she knew that portionof my history. If I had, I should have spoken to her long before; for mypent-up feelings had often longed to pour themselves out to some one Icould trust. But I loved the dear girl better for the delicacy she hadmanifested towards her unfortunate mother. 

The next morning, she and her uncle started on their journey to the villagein New York, where she was to be placed at school. It seemed as if all thesunshine had gone away. My little room was dreadfully lonely. I wasthankful when a message came from a lady, accustomed to employ me, requesting me to come and sew in her family for several weeks. On myreturn, I found a letter from brother William. He thought of opening ananti-slavery reading room in Rochester, and combining with it the sale ofsome books and stationery; and he wanted me to unite with him. We tried it, but it was not successful. We found warm anti-slavery friends there, butthe feeling was not general enough to support such an establishment. Ipassed nearly a year in the family of Isaac and Amy Post, practicalbelievers in the Christian doctrine of human brotherhood. They measure aman's worth by his character, not by his complexion. The memory of thosebeloved and honored friends will remain with me to my latest hour. 

XL. The Fugitive Slave Law. 

My brother, being disappointed in his project, concluded to go toCalifornia; and it was agreed that Benjamin should go with him. Ellen likedher school, and was a great favorite there. They did not know her history, and she did not tell it, because she had no desire to make capital out oftheir sympathy. But when it was accidentally discovered that her mother wasa fugitive slave, every method was used to increase her advantages anddiminish her expenses. 

I was alone again. It was necessary for me to be earning money, and Ipreferred that it should be among those who knew me. On my return fromRochester, I called at the house of Mr. Bruce, to see Mary, the darlinglittle babe that had thawed my heart, when it was freezing into a cheerlessdistrust of all my fellow-beings. She was growing a tall girl now, but Iloved her always. Mr. Bruce had married again, and it was proposed that Ishould become nurse to a new infant. I had but one hesitation, and that wasfeeling of insecurity in New York, now greatly increased by the passage ofthe Fugitive Slave Law. However, I resolved to try the experiment. I wasagain fortunate in my employer. The new Mrs. Bruce was an American, broughtup under aristocratic influences, and still living in the midst of them;but if she had any prejudice against color, I was never made aware of it;and as for the system of slavery, she had a most hearty dislike of it. Nosophistry of Southerners could blind her to its enormity. She was a personof excellent principles and a noble heart. To me, from that hour to thepresent, she has been a true and sympathizing friend. Blessings be with herand hers!

About the time that I reentered the Bruce family, an event occurred ofdisastrous import to the colored people. The slave Hamlin, the firstfugitive that came under the new law, was given up by the bloodhounds ofthe north to the bloodhounds of the south. It was the beginning of a reignof terror to the colored population. The great city rushed on in its whirlof excitement, taking no note of the "short and simple annals of the poor. "But while fashionables were listening to the thrilling voice of Jenny Lindin Metropolitan Hall, the thrilling voices of poor hunted colored peoplewent up, in an agony of supplication, to the Lord, from Zion's church. Manyfamilies, who had lived in the city for twenty years, fled from it now. Many a poor washerwoman, who, by hard labor, had made herself a comfortablehome, was obliged to sacrifice her furniture, bid a hurried farewell tofriends, and seek her fortune among strangers in Canada. Many a wifediscovered a secret she had never known before--that her husband was afugitive, and must leave her to insure his own safety. Worse still, many ahusband discovered that his wife had fled from slavery years ago, and as"the child follows the condition of its mother, " the children of his lovewere liable to be seized and carried into slavery. Every where, in thosehumble homes, there was consternation and anguish. But what cared thelegislators of the "dominant race" for the blood they were crushing out oftrampled hearts?

When my brother William spent his last evening with me, before he went toCalifornia, we talked nearly all the time of the distress brought on ouroppressed people by the passage of this iniquitous law; and never had Iseen him manifest such bitterness of spirit, such stern hostility to ouroppressors. He was himself free from the operation of the law; for he didnot run from any Slaveholding State, being brought into the Free States byhis master. But I was subject to it; and so were hundreds of intelligentand industrious people all around us. I seldom ventured into the streets;and when it was necessary to do an errand for Mrs. Bruce, or any of thefamily, I went as much as possible through back streets and by-ways. What adisgrace to a city calling itself free, that inhabitants, guiltless ofoffence, and seeking to perform their duties conscientiously, should becondemned to live in such incessant fear, and have nowhere to turn forprotection! This state of things, of course, gave rise to many impromptuvigilance committees. Every colored person, and every friend of theirpersecuted race, kept their eyes wide open. Every evening I examined thenewspapers carefully, to see what Southerners had put up at the hotels. Idid this for my own sake, thinking my young mistress and her husband mightbe among the list; I wished also to give information to others, ifnecessary; for if many were "running to and fro, " I resolved that"knowledge should be increased. "

This brings up one of my Southern reminiscences, which I will here brieflyrelate. I was somewhat acquainted with a slave named Luke, who belonged toa wealthy man in our vicinity. His master died, leaving a son and daughterheirs to his large fortune. In the division of the slaves, Luke wasincluded in the son's portion. This young man became a prey to the vices hewent to the north, to complete his education, he carried his vices withhim. He was brought home, deprived of the use of his limbs, by excessivedissipation. Luke was appointed to wait upon his bed-ridden master, whosedespotic habits were greatly increased by exasperation at his ownhelplessness. He kept a cowhide beside him, and, for the most trivialoccurrence, he would order his attendant to bare his back, and kneel besidethe couch, while he whipped him till his strength was exhausted. Some dayshe was not allowed to wear any thing but his shirt, in order to be inreadiness to be flogged. A day seldom passed without his receiving more orless blows. If the slightest resistance was offered, the town constable wassent for to execute the punishment, and Luke learned from experience howmuch more the constable's strong arm was to be dreaded than thecomparatively feeble one of his master. The arm of his tyrant grew weaker, and was finally palsied; and then the constable's services were in constantrequisition. The fact that he was entirely dependent on Luke's care, andwas obliged to be tended like an infant, instead of inspiring any gratitudeor compassion towards his poor slave, seemed only to increase hisirritability and cruelty. As he lay there on his bed, a mere degraded wreckof manhood, he took into his head the strangest freaks of despotism; and ifLuke hesitated to submit to his orders, the constable was immediately sentfor. Some of these freaks were of a nature too filthy to be repeated. WhenI fled from the house of bondage, I left poor Luke still chained to thebedside of this cruel and disgusting wretch. 

One day, when I had been requested to do an errand for Mrs. Bruce, I washurrying through back streets, as usual, when I saw a young manapproaching, whose face was familiar to me. As he came nearer, I recognizedLuke. I always rejoiced to see or hear of any one who had escaped from theblack pit; I was peculiarly glad to see him on Northern soil, though I nolonger called it _free_ soil. I well remembered what a desolate feeling itwas to be alone among strangers, and I went up to him and greeted himcordially. At first, he did not know me; but when I mentioned my name, heremembered all about me. I told him of the Fugitive Slave Law, and askedhim if he did not know that New York was a city of kidnappers. 

He replied, "De risk ain't so bad for me, as 'tis fur you. 'Cause I runnedaway from de speculator, and you runned away from de massa. Dem speculatorsvont spen dar money to come here fur a runaway, if dey ain't sartin sure toput dar hans right on him. An I tell you I's tuk good car 'bout dat. I hadtoo hard times down dar, to let 'em ketch dis nigger. "

He then told me of the advice he had received, and the plans he had laid. Iasked if he had money enough to take him to Canada. "'Pend upon it, I hab, "he replied. "I tuk car fur dat. I'd bin workin all my days fur dem cussedwhites, an got no pay but kicks and cuffs. So I tought dis nigger had aright to money nuff to bring him to de Free States. Massa Henry he lib tillebery body vish him dead; an ven he did die, I knowed de debbil would habhim, an vouldn't vant him to bring his money 'long too. So I tuk some ofhis bills, and put 'em in de pocket of his ole trousers. An ven he wasburied, dis nigger ask fur dem ole trousers, an dey gub 'em to me. " With alow, chuckling laugh, he added, "You see I didn't _steal_ it; dey _gub_ itto me. I tell you, I had mighty hard time to keep de speculator from findinit; but he didn't git it. "

This is a fair specimen of how the moral sense is educated by slavery. Whena man has his wages stolen from him, year after year, and the laws sanctionand enforce the theft, how can he be expected to have more regard tohonesty than has the man who robs him? I have become somewhat enlightened, but I confess that I agree with poor, ignorant, much-abused Luke, inthinking he had a _right_ to that money, as a portion of his unpaid wages. He went to Canada forthwith, and I have not since heard from him. 

All that winter I lived in a state of anxiety. When I took the children outto breathe the air, I closely observed the countenances of all I met. Idreaded the approach of summer, when snakes and slaveholders make theirappearance. I was, in fact, a slave in New York, as subject to slave lawsas I had been in a Slave State. Strange incongruity in a State called free!

Spring returned, and I received warning from the south that Dr. Flint knewof my return to my old place, and was making preparations to have mecaught. I learned afterwards that my dress, and that of Mrs. Bruce'schildren, had been described to him by some of the Northern tools, whichslaveholders employ for their base purposes, and then indulge in sneers attheir cupidity and mean servility. 

I immediately informed Mrs. Bruce of my danger, and she took promptmeasures for my safety. My place as nurse could not be suppliedimmediately, and this generous, sympathizing lady proposed that I shouldcarry her baby away. It was a comfort to me to have the child with me; forthe heart is reluctant to be torn away from every object it loves. But howfew mothers would have consented to have one of their own babes become afugitive, for the sake of a poor, hunted nurse, on whom the legislators ofthe country had let loose the bloodhounds! When I spoke of the sacrificeshe was making, in depriving herself of her dear baby, she replied, "It isbetter for you to have baby with you, Linda; for if they get on your track, they will be obliged to bring the child to me; and then, if there is apossibility of saving you, you shall be saved. "

This lady had a very wealthy relative, a benevolent gentleman in manyrespects, but aristocratic and pro-slavery. He remonstrated with her forharboring a fugitive slave; told her she was violating the laws of hercountry; and asked her if she was aware of the penalty. She replied, "I amvery well aware of it. It is imprisonment and one thousand dollars fine. Shame on my country that it _is_ so! I am ready to incur the penalty. Iwill go to the state's prison, rather than have any poor victim torn from_my_ house, to be carried back to slavery. "

The noble heart! The brave heart! The tears are in my eyes while I write ofher. May the God of the helpless reward her for her sympathy with mypersecuted people!

I was sent into New England, where I was sheltered by the wife of asenator, whom I shall always hold in grateful remembrance. This honorablegentleman would not have voted for the Fugitive Slave Law, as did thesenator in "Uncle Tom's Cabin;" on the contrary, he was strongly opposed toit; but he was enough under its influence to be afraid of having me remainin his house many hours. So I was sent into the country, where I remained amonth with the baby. When it was supposed that Dr. Flint's emissaries hadlost track of me, and given up the pursuit for the present, I returned toNew York. 

XLI. Free At Last. 

Mrs. Bruce, and every member of her family, were exceedingly kind to me. Iwas thankful for the blessings of my lot, yet I could not always wear acheerful countenance. I was doing harm to no one; on the contrary, I wasdoing all the good I could in my small way; yet I could never go out tobreathe God's free air without trepidation at my heart. This seemed hard;and I could not think it was a right state of things in any civilizedcountry. 

From time to time I received news from my good old grandmother. She couldnot write; but she employed others to write for her. The following is anextract from one of her last letters:--

 Dear Daughter: I cannot hope to see you again on earth; but I pray to God to unite us above, where pain will no more rack this feeble body of mine; where sorrow and parting from my children will be no more. God has promised these things if we are faithful unto the end. My age and feeble health deprive me of going to church now; but God is with me here at home. Thank your brother for his kindness. Give much love to him, and tell him to remember the Creator in the days of his youth, and strive to meet me in the Father's kingdom. Love to Ellen and Benjamin. Don't neglect him. Tell him for me, to be a good boy. Strive, my child, to train them for God's children. May he protect and provide for you, is the prayer of your loving old mother. 

These letters both cheered and saddened me. I was always glad to havetidings from the kind, faithful old friend of my unhappy youth; but hermessages of love made my heart yearn to see her before she died, and Imourned over the fact that it was impossible. Some months after I returnedfrom my flight to New England, I received a letter from her, in which shewrote, "Dr. Flint is dead. He has left a distressed family. Poor old man! Ihope he made his peace with God. "

I remembered how he had defrauded my grandmother of the hard earnings shehad loaned; how he had tried to cheat her out of the freedom her mistresshad promised her, and how he had persecuted her children; and I thought tomyself that she was a better Christian than I was, if she could entirelyforgive him. I cannot say, with truth, that the news of my old master'sdeath softened my feelings towards him. There are wrongs which even thegrave does not bury. The man was odious to me while he lived, and hismemory is odious now. 

His departure from this world did not diminish my danger. He had threatenedmy grandmother that his heirs should hold me in slavery after he was gone;that I never should be free so long as a child of his survived. As for Mrs. Flint, I had seen her in deeper afflictions than I supposed the loss of herhusband would be, for she had buried several children; yet I never saw anysigns of softening in her heart. The doctor had died in embarrassedcircumstances, and had little to will to his heirs, except such property ashe was unable to grasp. I was well aware what I had to expect from thefamily of Flints; and my fears were confirmed by a letter from the south, warning me to be on my guard, because Mrs. Flint openly declared that herdaughter could not afford to lose so valuable a slave as I was. 

I kept close watch of the newspapers for arrivals; but one Saturday night, being much occupied, I forgot to examine the Evening Express as usual. Iwent down into the parlor for it, early in the morning, and found the boyabout to kindle a fire with it. I took it from him and examined the list ofarrivals. Reader, if you have never been a slave, you cannot imagine theacute sensation of suffering at my heart, when I read the names of Mr. AndMrs. Dodge, at a hotel in Courtland Street. It was a third-rate hotel, andthat circumstance convinced me of the truth of what I had heard, that theywere short of funds and had need of my value, as _they_ valued me; and thatwas by dollars and cents. I hastened with the paper to Mrs. Bruce. Herheart and hand were always open to every one in distress, and she alwayswarmly sympathized with mine. It was impossible to tell how near the enemywas. He might have passed and repassed the house while we were sleeping. Hemight at that moment be waiting to pounce upon me if I ventured out ofdoors. I had never seen the husband of my young mistress, and therefore Icould not distinguish him from any other stranger. A carriage was hastilyordered; and, closely veiled, I followed Mrs. Bruce, taking the baby againwith me into exile. After various turnings and crossings, and returnings, the carriage stopped at the house of one of Mrs. Bruce's friends, where Iwas kindly received. Mrs. Bruce returned immediately, to instruct thedomestics what to say if any one came to inquire for me. 

It was lucky for me that the evening paper was not burned up before I had achance to examine the list of arrivals. It was not long after Mrs. Bruce'sreturn to her house, before several people came to inquire for me. Oneinquired for me, another asked for my daughter Ellen, and another said hehad a letter from my grandmother, which he was requested to deliver inperson. 

They were told, "She _has_ lived here, but she has left. "

"How long ago?"

"I don't know, sir. "

"Do you know where she went?"

"I do not, sir. " And the door was closed. 

This Mr. Dodge, who claimed me as his property, was originally a Yankeepedler in the south; then he became a merchant, and finally a slaveholder. He managed to get introduced into what was called the first society, andmarried Miss Emily Flint. A quarrel arose between him and her brother, andthe brother cowhided him. This led to a family feud, and he proposed toremove to Virginia. Dr. Flint left him no property, and his own means hadbecome circumscribed, while a wife and children depended upon him forsupport. Under these circumstances, it was very natural that he should makean effort to put me into his pocket. 

I had a colored friend, a man from my native place, in whom I had the mostimplicit confidence. I sent for him, and told him that Mr. And Mrs. Dodgehad arrived in New York. I proposed that he should call upon them to makeinquiries about his friends at the south, with whom Dr. Flint's family werewell acquainted. He thought there was no impropriety in his doing so, andhe consented. He went to the hotel, and knocked at the door of Mr. Dodge'sroom, which was opened by the gentleman himself, who gruffly inquired, "What brought you here? How came you to know I was in the city?"

"Your arrival was published in the evening papers, sir; and I called to askMrs. Dodge about my friends at home. I didn't suppose it would give anyoffence. "

"Where's that negro girl, that belongs to my wife?"

"What girl, sir?"

"You know well enough. I mean Linda, that ran away from Dr. Flint'splantation, some years ago. I dare say you've seen her, and know where sheis. "

"Yes, sir, I've seen her, and know where she is. She is out of your reach, sir. "

"Tell me where she is, or bring her to me, and I will give her a chance tobuy her freedom. "

"I don't think it would be of any use, sir. I have heard her say she wouldgo to the ends of the earth, rather than pay any man or woman for herfreedom, because she thinks she has a right to it. Besides, she couldn't doit, if she would, for she has spent her earnings to educate her children. "

This made Mr. Dodge very angry, and some high words passed between them. Myfriend was afraid to come where I was; but in the course of the day Ireceived a note from him. I supposed they had not come from the south, inthe winter, for a pleasure excursion; and now the nature of their businesswas very plain. 

Mrs. Bruce came to me and entreated me to leave the city the next morning. She said her house was watched, and it was possible that some clew to memight be obtained. I refused to take her advice. She pleaded with anearnest tenderness, that ought to have moved me; but I was in a bitter, disheartened mood. I was weary of flying from pillar to post. I had beenchased during half my life, and it seemed as if the chase was never to end. There I sat, in that great city, guiltless of crime, yet not daring toworship God in any of the churches. I heard the bells ringing for afternoonservice, and, with contemptuous sarcasm, I said, "Will the preachers takefor their text, 'Proclaim liberty to the captive, and the opening of prisondoors to them that are bound'? or will they preach from the text, 'Do untoothers as ye would they should do unto you'?" Oppressed Poles andHungarians could find a safe refuge in that city; John Mitchell was free toproclaim in the City Hall his desire for "a plantation well stocked withslaves;" but there I sat, an oppressed American, not daring to show myface. God forgive the black and bitter thoughts I indulged on that Sabbathday! The Scripture says, "Oppression makes even a wise man mad;" and I wasnot wise. 

I had been told that Mr. Dodge said his wife had never signed away herright to my children, and if he could not get me, he would take them. Thisit was, more than any thing else, that roused such a tempest in my soul. Benjamin was with his uncle William in California, but my innocent youngdaughter had come to spend a vacation with me. I thought of what I hadsuffered in slavery at her age, and my heart was like a tiger's when ahunter tries to seize her young. 

Dear Mrs. Bruce! I seem to see the expression of her face, as she turnedaway discouraged by my obstinate mood. Finding her expostulationsunavailing, she sent Ellen to entreat me. When ten o'clock in the eveningarrived and Ellen had not returned, this watchful and unwearied friendbecame anxious. She came to us in a carriage, bringing a well-filled trunkfor my journey--trusting that by this time I would listen to reason. Iyielded to her, as I ought to have done before. 

The next day, baby and I set out in a heavy snow storm, bound for NewEngland again. I received letters from the City of Iniquity, addressed tome under an assumed name. In a few days one came from Mrs. Bruce, informingme that my new master was still searching for me, and that she intended toput an end to this persecution by buying my freedom. I felt grateful forthe kindness that prompted this offer, but the idea was not so pleasant tome as might have been expected. The more my mind had become enlightened, the more difficult it was for me to consider myself an article of property;and to pay money to those who had so grievously oppressed me seemed liketaking from my sufferings the glory of triumph. I wrote to Mrs. Bruce, thanking her, but saying that being sold from one owner to another seemedtoo much like slavery; that such a great obligation could not be easilycancelled; and that I preferred to go to my brother in California. 

Without my knowledge, Mrs. Bruce employed a gentleman in New York to enterinto negotiations with Mr. Dodge. He proposed to pay three hundred dollarsdown, if Mr. Dodge would sell me, and enter into obligations to relinquishall claim to me or my children forever after. He who called himself mymaster said he scorned so small an offer for such a valuable servant. Thegentleman replied, "You can do as you choose, sir. If you reject this offeryou will never get any thing; for the woman has friends who will convey herand her children out of the country. "

Mr. Dodge concluded that "half a loaf was better than no bread, " and heagreed to the proffered terms. By the next mail I received this briefletter from Mrs. Bruce: "I am rejoiced to tell you that the money for yourfreedom has been paid to Mr. Dodge. Come home to-morrow. I long to see youand my sweet babe. "

My brain reeled as I read these lines. A gentleman near me said, "It'strue; I have seen the bill of sale. " "The bill of sale!" Those words struckme like a blow. So I was _sold_ at last! A human being _sold_ in the freecity of New York! The bill of sale is on record, and future generationswill learn from it that women were articles of traffic in New York, late inthe nineteenth century of the Christian religion. It may hereafter prove auseful document to antiquaries, who are seeking to measure the progress ofcivilization in the United States. I well know the value of that bit ofpaper; but much as I love freedom, I do not like to look upon it. I amdeeply grateful to the generous friend who procured it, but I despise themiscreant who demanded payment for what never rightfully belonged to him orhis. 

I had objected to having my freedom bought, yet I must confess that when itwas done I felt as if a heavy load had been lifted from my weary shoulders. When I rode home in the cars I was no longer afraid to unveil my face andlook at people as they passed. I should have been glad to have met DanielDodge himself; to have had him seen me and known me, that he might havemourned over the untoward circumstances which compelled him to sell me forthree hundred dollars. 

When I reached home, the arms of my benefactress were thrown round me, andour tears mingled. As soon as she could speak, she said, "O Linda, I'm _so_glad it's all over! You wrote to me as if you thought you were going to betransferred from one owner to another. But I did not buy you for yourservices. I should have done just the same, if you had been going to sailfor California to-morrow. I should, at least, have the satisfaction ofknowing that you left me a free woman. "

My heart was exceedingly full. I remembered how my poor father had tried tobuy me, when I was a small child, and how he had been disappointed. I hopedhis spirit was rejoicing over me now. I remembered how my good oldgrandmother had laid up her earnings to purchase me in later years, and howoften her plans had been frustrated. How that faithful, loving old heartwould leap for joy, if she could look on me and my children now that wewere free! My relatives had been foiled in all their efforts, but God hadraised me up a friend among strangers, who had bestowed on me the precious, long-desired boon. Friend! It is a common word, often lightly used. Likeother good and beautiful things, it may be tarnished by careless handling;but when I speak of Mrs. Bruce as my friend, the word is sacred. 

My grandmother lived to rejoice in my freedom; but not long after, a lettercame with a black seal. She had gone "where the wicked cease fromtroubling, and the weary are at rest. "

Time passed on, and a paper came to me from the south, containing anobituary notice of my uncle Phillip. It was the only case I ever knew ofsuch an honor conferred upon a colored person. It was written by one of hisfriends, and contained these words: "Now that death has laid him low, theycall him a good man and a useful citizen; but what are eulogies to theblack man, when the world has faded from his vision? It does not requireman's praise to obtain rest in God's kingdom. " So they called a colored mana _citizen_! Strange words to be uttered in that region!

Reader, my story ends with freedom; not in the usual way, with marriage. Iand my children are now free! We are as free from the power of slaveholdersas are the white people of the north; and though that, according to myideas, is not saying a great deal, it is a vast improvement in _my_condition. The dream of my life is not yet realized. I do not sit with mychildren in a home of my own, I still long for a hearthstone of my own, however humble. I wish it for my children's sake far more than for my own. But God so orders circumstances as to keep me with my friend Mrs. Bruce. Love, duty, gratitude, also bind me to her side. It is a privilege to serveher who pities my oppressed people, and who has bestowed the inestimableboon of freedom on me and my children. 

It has been painful to me, in many ways, to recall the dreary years Ipassed in bondage. I would gladly forget them if I could. Yet theretrospection is not altogether without solace; for with those gloomyrecollections come tender memories of my good old grandmother, like light, fleecy clouds floating over a dark and troubled sea. 

APPENDIX. 

The following statement is from Amy Post, a member of the Society ofFriends in the State of New York, well known and highly respected byfriends of the poor and the oppressed. As has been already stated, in thepreceding pages, the author of this volume spent some time under herhospitable roof. 

L. M. C. 

 The author of this book is my highly-esteemed friend. If its readers knew her as I know her, they could not fail to be deeply interested in her story. She was a beloved inmate of our family nearly the whole of the year 1849. She was introduced to us by her affectionate and conscientious brother, who had previously related to us some of the almost incredible events in his sister's life. I immediately became much interested in Linda; for her appearance was prepossessing, and her deportment indicated remarkable delicacy of feeling and purity of thought. 

 As we became acquainted, she related to me, from time to time some of the incidents in her bitter experiences as a slave-woman. Though impelled by a natural craving for human sympathy, she passed through a baptism of suffering, even in recounting her trials to me, in private confidential conversations. The burden of these memories lay heavily upon her spirit--naturally virtuous and refined. I repeatedly urged her to consent to the publication of her narrative; for I felt that it would arouse people to a more earnest work for the disinthralment of millions still remaining in that soul-crushing condition, which was so unendurable to her. But her sensitive spirit shrank from publicity. She said, "You know a woman can whisper her cruel wrongs in the ear of a dear friend much easier than she can record them for the world to read. " Even in talking with me, she wept so much, and seemed to suffer such mental agony, that I felt her story was too sacred to be drawn from her by inquisitive questions, and I left her free to tell as much, or as little, as she chose. Still, I urged upon her the duty of publishing her experience, for the sake of the good it might do; and, at last, she undertook the task. 

 Having been a slave so large a portion of her life, she is unlearned; she is obliged to earn her living by her own labor, and she has worked untiringly to procure education for her children; several times she has been obliged to leave her employments, in order to fly from the man-hunters and woman-hunters of our land; but she pressed through all these obstacles and overcame them. After the labors of the day were over, she traced secretly and wearily, by the midnight lamp, a truthful record of her eventful life. 

 This Empire State is a shabby place of refuge for the oppressed; but here, through anxiety, turmoil, and despair, the freedom of Linda and her children was finally secured, by the exertions of a generous friend. She was grateful for the boon; but the idea of having been _bought_ was always galling to a spirit that could never acknowledge itself to be a chattel. She wrote to us thus, soon after the event: "I thank you for your kind expressions in regard to my freedom; but the freedom I had before the money was paid was dearer to me. God gave me _that_ freedom; but man put God's image in the scales with the paltry sum of three hundred dollars. I served for my liberty as faithfully as Jacob served for Rachel. At the end, he had large possessions; but I was robbed of my victory; I was obliged to resign my crown, to rid myself of a tyrant. "

 Her story, as written by herself, cannot fail to interest the reader. It is a sad illustration of the condition of this country, which boasts of its civilization, while it sanctions laws and customs which make the experiences of the present more strange than any fictions of the past. 

 Amy Post. Rochester, N. Y. , Oct. 30th, 1859. 

The following testimonial is from a man who is now a highly respectablecolored citizen of Boston. 

L. M. C. 

 This narrative contains some incidents so extraordinary, that, doubtless, many persons, under whose eyes it may chance to fall, will be ready to believe that it is colored highly, to serve a special purpose. But, however it may be regarded by the incredulous, I know that it is full of living truths. I have been well acquainted with the author from my boyhood. The circumstances recounted in her history are perfectly familiar to me. I knew of her treatment from her master; of the imprisonment of her children; of their sale and redemption; of her seven years' concealment; and of her subsequent escape to the North. I am now a resident of Boston, and am a living witness to the truth of this interesting narrative. 

 George W. Lowther.