But when I had arrived at the age of eighteen, which was in the year of 1853, it was my lot to be introduced to the favor of a mulatto slave girl named Malinda, who lived in Oldham County, Kentucky, about four miles from the residence of my owner.  Malinda was a medium sized girl, graceful in her walk, of an extraordinary make, and active in business.  Her skin was of a smooth texture, red cheeks, with dark and penetrating eyes.  She moved in the highest circle[2] of slaves, and free people of color.  She was also one of the best singers I ever heard, and was much esteemed by all who knew her, for her benevolence, talent and industry.  In fact, I considered Malinda to be equalled by few, and surpassed by none, for the above qualities, all things considered.

It is truly marvellous to see how sudden a man’s mind can be changed by the charms and influence of a female.  The first two or three visits that I paid this dear girl, I had no intention of courting or marrying her, for I was aware that such a step would greatly obstruct my way to the land of liberty.  I only visited Malinda because I liked her company, as a highly interesting girl.  But in spite of myself, before I was aware of it, I was deeply in love; and what made this passion so effectual and almost irresistable, I became satisfied that it was reciprocal.  There was a union of feeling, and every visit made the impression stronger and stronger.  One or two other young men were paying attention to Malinda, at the same time; one of whom her mother was anxious to have her marry.  This of course gave me a fair opportunity of testing Malinda’s sincerity.  I had just about opposition enough to make the subject interesting.  That Malinda loved me above all others on earth, no one could deny.  I could read it by the warm reception with which the dear girl always met me, and treated me in her mother’s house.  I could read it by the warm and affectionate shake of the hand, and gentle smile upon her lovely cheek.  I could read it by her always giving me the preference of her company; by her pressing invitations to visit even in opposition to her mother’s will.  I could read it in the language of her bright and sparkling eye, penciled by the unchangable finger of nature, that spake but could not lie.  These strong temptations gradually diverted my attention from my actual condition and from liberty, though not entirely.

But oh! that I had only then been enabled to have seen as I do now, or to have read the following slave code, which is but a stereotyped law of American slavery.  It would have saved me I think from having to lament that I was a husband and am the father of slaves who are still left to linger out their days in hopeless bondage.  The laws of Kentucky, my native State, with Maryland and Virginia, which are said to be the mildest slave States in the Union, noted for their humanity, Christianity and democracy, declare that “Any slave, for rambling in the night, or riding