There are wrongs which even the grave does not bury.

When I was six years old, my mother died; and then, for the first time, I learned, by the talk around me, that I was a slave.

DURING the first years of my service in Dr. Flint's family, I was accustomed to share some indulgences with the children of my mistress

The degradation, the wrongs, the vices, that grow out of slavery, are more than I can describe. They are greater than you would willingly believe.

Southern women often marry a man knowing that he is the father of many little slaves. They do not trouble themselves about it.

The beautiful spring came; and when Nature resumes her loveliness, the human soul is apt to revive also.

Always it gave me a pang that my children had no lawful claim to a name.