ill death. Nobody respects a mother who
forsakes her children; and if you leave them, you will never have a happy
moment. If you go, you will make me miserable the short time I have to
live. You would be taken and brought back, and your sufferings would be
dreadful. Remember poor Benjamin. Do give it up, Linda. Try to bear a
little longer. Things may turn out better than we expect."

My courage failed me, in view of the sorrow I should bring on that
faithful, loving old heart. I promised that I would try longer, and that I
would take nothing out of her house without her knowledge.

Whenever the children climbed on my knee, or laid their heads on my lap,
she would say, "Poor little souls! what would you do without a mother? She
don't love you as I do." And she would hug them to her own bosom, as if to
reproach me for my want of affection; but she knew all the while that I
loved them better than my life. I slept with her that night, and it was the
last time. The memory of it haunted me for many a year.

On Monday I returned to the plantation, and busied myself with preparations
for the important day. Wednesday came. It was a beautiful day, and the
faces of the slaves were as bright as the sunshine. The poor creatures were
merry. They were expecting little presents from the bride, and hoping for
better times under her administration. I had no such hopes for them. I knew
that the young wives of slaveholders often thought their authority and
importance would be best established and maintained by cruelty; and what I
had heard of young Mrs. Flint gave me no reason to expect that her rule
over them would be less severe than that of the master and overseer. Truly,
the colored race are the most cheerful and forgiving people on the face of
the earth. That their masters sleep in safety is owing to their
superabundance of heart; and yet they look upon their sufferings with less
pity than they would bestow on those of a horse or a dog.

I stood at the door with others to receive the bridegroom and bride. She
was a handsome, delicate-looking girl, and her face flushed with emotion at
sight of her new home. I thought it likely that visions of a happy future
were rising before her. It made me sad; for I knew how soon clouds would
come over her sunshine. She examined every part of the house, and told me
she was delighted with the arrangements I had made. I was afraid old Mrs.
Flint had tried to prejudice her against me, and I did my bes