You have been a comfort to her, and I have 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
about it, and I wish old Flint was dead, or a better
man. When I was in jail, he asked her if she
didn’t want him to ask my master to forgive
me, and take me 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 as I do that man. There
is many a worse slaveholder than my master; but for
all that I would not be his slave.”
While Benjamin was sick, he had parted with nearly
all his clothes to pay necessary expenses. But
he did not part with a little pin I fastened in his
bosom when we parted. It was the most valuable
thing I owned, and I thought none 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 from him again.
Uncle Phillip came home; and the first words he uttered
when he entered the house were, “Mother, Ben
is free! I have seen him in New York.”
She stood looking at him with a bewildered air.
“Mother, don’t you believe it?” he
said, laying his hand softly upon her shoulder.
She raised her hands, and exclaimed, “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 repeat to her every
word Benjamin had said. He told her all; only
he forbore to mention how sick and pale her darling
looked. Why should he distress her when she could
do him no good?
The brave old woman still toiled on, hoping to rescue
some of her other children. After a while she
succeeded in buying Phillip. She paid eight hundred
dollars, and came home with the precious document that
secured his freedom. The happy mother and son
sat together by the old hearthstone that night, telling
how proud they were of each other, and how they would
prove to the world that they could take care of themselves,
as they had long taken care of others. We all
concluded by saying, “He that is willing
to be a slave, let him be 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. Though this
seemed to me no more than right, I was grateful for
it, and tried to merit the kindness by the faithful
discharge of my duties. But I now 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 could not
remain ignorant of their import. I tried to treat
them with indifference or contempt. The master’s
age, my extreme youth, and the fear that his conduct
