When I was nearly twelve years old, my kind mistress sickened and died.

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.

For years, my master had done his utmost to pollute my mind with foul images, and to destroy the pure principles inculcated by my grandmother, and the good mistress of my childhood.

I would rather drudge out my life on a cotton plantation, till the grave opened to give me rest, than to live with an unprincipled master and a jealous mistress.

I WAS born a slave; but I never knew it till six years of happy childhood had passed away.

There are wrongs which even the grave does not bury.