“The political heavens are getting somewhat overcast. Some of this old rebel element, I think, are in favor of taking away the colored man’s vote, and if he loses it now it may be generations before he gets it again. Well, after all perhaps the colored man generally is not really developed enough to value his vote and equality with other races, so he gets enough to eat and drink, and be comfortable, perhaps the loss of his vote would not be a serious grievance to many; but his children differently educated and trained by circumstances might feel political inferiority rather a bitter cup.”
“After all whether they
encourage or discourage me, I belong to
this race, and when it is down I belong to a down race; when it
is up I belong to a risen race.”
She writes thus from Montgomery, December 29th, 1870:
“Did you ever read a
little poem commencing, I think, with these
A mother cried,
Oh, give me joy,
For I have born a darling boy!
A darling boy! why the world is full
Of the men who play at push and pull.
Well, as full as the room was of beds and tenants, on the morning of the twenty-second, there arose a wail upon the air, and this mundane sphere had another inhabitant, and my room another occupant. I left after that, and when I came back the house was fuller than it was before, and my hostess gave me to understand that she would rather I should be somewhere else, and I left again. How did I fare? Well, I had been stopping with one of our teachers and went back; but the room in which I stopped was one of those southern shells through which both light and cold enter at the same time; it had one window and perhaps more than half or one half the panes gone. I don’t know that I was ever more conquered by the cold than I had been at that house, and I have lived