really worth my
salt or not; and then perhaps the lips curled with a bitter sneer. It
may seem strange that I should place so much emphasis upon words
thoughtlessly, idly spoken; but then we do many strange things in life,
and cannot always explain the motives that actuate us. The heavy task
was too much for me, and my health began to give way. About this time
Mr. Keckley, whom I had met in Virginia, and learned to regard with more
than friendship, came to St. Louis. He sought my hand in marriage, and
for a long time I refused to consider his proposal; for I could not bear
the thought of bringing children into slavery--of adding one single
recruit to the millions bound to hopeless servitude, fettered and
shackled with chains stronger and heavier than manacles of iron. I made
a proposition to buy myself and son; the proposition was bluntly
declined, and I was commanded never to broach the subject again. I would
not be put off thus, for hope pointed to a freer, brighter life in the
future. Why should my son be held in slavery? I often asked myself. He
came into the world through no will of mine, and yet, God only knows how
I loved him. The Anglo-Saxon blood as well as the African flowed in his
veins; the two currents commingled--one singing of freedom, the other
silent and sullen with generations of despair. Why should not the
Anglo-Saxon triumph--why should it be weighed down with the rich blood
typical of the tropics? Must the life-current of one race bind the other
race in chains as strong and enduring as if there had been no
Anglo-Saxon taint? By the laws of God and nature, as interpreted by
man, one-half of my boy was free, and why should not this fair
birthright of freedom remove the curse from the other half--raise it
into the bright, joyous sunshine of liberty? I could not answer these
questions of my heart that almost maddened me, and I learned to regard
human philosophy with distrust. Much as I respected the authority of my
master, I could not remain silent on a subject that so nearly concerned
me. One day, when I insisted on knowing whether he would permit me to
purchase myself, and what price I must pay for myself, he turned to me
in a petulant manner, thrust his hand into his pocket, drew forth a
bright silver quarter of a dollar, and proffering it to me, said:

"Lizzie, I have told you often not to trouble me with such a question.
If you really wish to leave me, take this: it will pay the passage of
yourself