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

Could you have seen that mother clinging to her child, when they fastened the irons upon his wrists; could you have heard her heart-rending groans, and seen her bloodshot eyes wander wildly from face to face, vainly pleading for mercy; could you have witnessed that scene as I saw it, you would exclaim, Slavery is damnable!

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 torn from her the next morning and often does she wish that she and they might die before the day dawns.

If you want to be fully convinced of the abominations of slavery, go on a southern plantation, and call yourself a negro trader. Then there will be no concealment; and you will see and hear things that will seem to you impossible among human beings with immortal souls.

There are wrongs which even the grave does not bury.

There is something akin to freedom in having a lover who has no control over you, except that which he gains by kindness and attachment.

The slave child had no thought for the morrow; but there came that blight, which too surely waits on every human being born to be a chattel.