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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 249 pages of information about Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl.

$300 REWARD!  Ran away from the subscriber, an intelligent, bright, mulatto girl, named Linda, 21 years of age.  Five feet four inches high.  Dark eyes, and black hair inclined to curl; but it can be made straight.  Has a decayed spot on a front tooth.  She can read and write, and in all probability will try to get to the Free States.  All persons are forbidden, under penalty of law, to harbor or employ said slave. $150 will be given to whoever takes her in the state, and $300 if taken out of the state and delivered to me, or lodged in jail.

Dr. Flint.

XVIII.  Months Of Peril.

The search for me was kept up with more perseverence than I had anticipated.  I began to think that escape was impossible.  I was in great anxiety lest I should implicate the friend who harbored me.  I knew the consequences would be frightful; and much as I dreaded being caught, even that seemed better than causing an innocent person to suffer for kindness to me.  A week had passed in terrible suspense, when my pursuers came into such close vicinity that I concluded they had tracked me to my hiding-place.  I flew out of the house, and concealed myself in a thicket of bushes.  There I remained in an agony of fear for two hours.  Suddenly, a reptile of some kind seized my leg.  In my fright, I struck a blow which loosened its hold, but I could not tell whether I had killed it; it was so dark, I could not see what it was; I only knew it was something cold and slimy.  The pain I felt soon indicated that the bite was poisonous.  I was compelled to leave my place of concealment, and I groped my way back into the house.  The pain had become intense, and my friend was startled by my look of anguish.  I asked her to prepare a poultice of warm ashes and vinegar, and I applied it to my leg, which was already much swollen.  The application gave me some relief, but the swelling did not abate.  The dread of being disabled was greater than the physical pain I endured.  My friend asked an old woman, who doctored among the slaves, what was good for the bite of a snake or a lizard.  She told her to steep a dozen coppers in vinegar, over night, and apply the cankered vinegar to the inflamed part.[1]

[Footnote 1:  The poison of a snake is a powerful acid, and is counteracted by powerful alkalies, such as potash, ammonia, &c.  The Indians are accustomed to apply wet ashes, or plunge the limb into strong lie.  White men, employed to lay out railroads in snaky places, often carry ammonia with them as an antidote.—­EDITOR.]

I had succeeded in cautiously conveying some messages to my relatives.  They were harshly threatened, and despairing of my having a chance to escape, they advised me to return to my master, ask his forgiveness, and let him make an example of me.  But such counsel had no influence with me.  When I started upon this hazardous undertaking, I had resolved that, come what would, there should be no turning back.  “Give me liberty, or give me death,” was my motto.  When my friend contrived to make known to my relatives the painful situation I had been in for twenty-four hours, they said no more about my going back to my master.  Something must be done, and that speedily; but where to return for help, they knew not.  God in his mercy raised up “a friend in need.”

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