anked God that
the knowledge I had so much dreaded to impart had not diminished the
affection of my child. I had not the slightest idea she knew that portion
of my history. If I had, I should have spoken to her long before; for my
pent-up feelings had often longed to pour themselves out to some one I
could trust. But I loved the dear girl better for the delicacy she had
manifested towards her unfortunate mother.

The next morning, she and her uncle started on their journey to the village
in New York, where she was to be placed at school. It seemed as if all the
sunshine had gone away. My little room was dreadfully lonely. I was
thankful when a message came from a lady, accustomed to employ me,
requesting me to come and sew in her family for several weeks. On my
return, I found a letter from brother William. He thought of opening an
anti-slavery reading room in Rochester, and combining with it the sale of
some books and stationery; and he wanted me to unite with him. We tried it,
but it was not successful. We found warm anti-slavery friends there, but
the feeling was not general enough to support such an establishment. I
passed nearly a year in the family of Isaac and Amy Post, practical
believers in the Christian doctrine of human brotherhood. They measure a
man's worth by his character, not by his complexion. The memory of those
beloved and honored friends will remain with me to my latest hour.

XL. The Fugitive Slave Law.

My brother, being disappointed in his project, concluded to go to
California; and it was agreed that Benjamin should go with him. Ellen liked
her school, and was a great favorite there. They did not know her history,
and she did not tell it, because she had no desire to make capital out of
their sympathy. But when it was accidentally discovered that her mother was
a fugitive slave, every method was used to increase her advantages and
diminish her expenses.

I was alone again. It was necessary for me to be earning money, and I
preferred that it should be among those who knew me. On my return from
Rochester, I called at the house of Mr. Bruce, to see Mary, the darling
little babe that had thawed my heart, when it was freezing into a cheerless
distrust of all my fellow-beings. She was growing a tall girl now, but I
loved her always. Mr. Bruce had married again, and it was proposed that I
should become nurse to a new infant. I had but one hesitation, and that was
feeling of insecurity in New Yo