THE autumn of 1850 brought an event freighted with deep significance to me. My mother died.

Even if my mother had no qualms of conscience concerning ownership of negroes, her sense of duty carried her far beyond the mere supplying of their physical needs, or requiring that they render faithful service.

THE autumn of 1850 brought an event freighted with deep significance to me. My mother died.

However the Southern man may have been master of the negro, there were compensatory processes whereby certain negroes were masters of their masters' children.

My mother was a Northern woman, daughter of Hon. John Sergeant, a distinguished lawyer, and for many years representative in Congress from Philadelphia.

And let me tell you, you boys of America, that there is no higher inspiration to any man to be a good man, a good citizen, and a good son, brother, or father, than the knowledge that you come from honest blood.

Of private differences personal to himself, my brother had none.