Our World, Or, the Slaveholder's Daughter eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 842 pages of information about Our World, Or, the Slaveholder's Daughter.
wander the woods, delve morasses, and swim rivers, ere they reached the haven of St. Augustine, where, being provided with provisions, their case was tried, and, albeit, though Turnbull interposed all the perfidy wealth could purchase, their fredeom established.  But alas! not so well was it with those fair daughters whom the tyrant sold slaves to a life of infamy, and for whose offspring, now in the bitterness of bondage, do we plead.  Scores of these female children were sold by the tyrant; but either the people were drunk of joy over their own liberty, and forgot to demand the return of their children, or the good Younge felt forcibly his weakness to bring to justice the rich and great-for the law is weak where slavery makes men great-so as to make him disgorge the ill-gotten treasure he might have concealed, but the proof of which nothing was easier than to obliterate.

“Maldonard, then, was my grandfather; and, with my grandmother and three children, was of those who suffered the cruelties I have detailed.  Two of his children were girls, fair and beautiful, whom the tyrant, under the pretext of bettering their condition in another colony, sold away into slavery.  One was my dear mother.”  Here tears coursed down the woman’s cheeks.  “And she, though I blush to tell it, was sold to Rovero, who was indeed my father as well as Franconia’s.  But I was years older than Franconia-I visit her grave by day, and dream of her by night;—­nor was it strange that she should trace the cause of similarity in our features.  Forsooth, it was that singular discovery-of which I was long ignorant-coupled with the virtues of a great soul, that incited her to effect my escape.  Rovero, ere he married Franconia’s mother, sold Sylvia Maldonard, who was my mother; and may angels bring glad tidings of her spirit!  Yes, true is it that my poor mother was sold to one Silenus, of whom Marston bought my body while heaven guarded the soul:  but here would I drop the curtain over the scene, for Maldonard is dead; and in the grave of his Italian wife, ere he gained his freedom, was he buried.”  Here again the fond mother, as she concluded, lifted her eyes invokingly, fondled her long-lost child to her bosom,—­smiled upon her, kissed her, and was happy.


In which A plot is disclosed, and the man-seller made to pay the penalty of his crimes.

While the scenes which we have detailed in the foregoing chapter were being enacted at Nassau, there stood in the portico of a massive dwelling, fronting what in Charleston is called the “Battery Promenade,” the tall and stately figure of a man, wrapped in a costly black cloak, the folds of which lay carelessly about his neck and shoulders.  For some minutes did he stand, hesitating, and watching up and down the broad walk in front.  The gas-light overhead

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Our World, Or, the Slaveholder's Daughter from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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