When I Was Nearly Twelve Years Old,

For Years, My Master Had Done His Utmost To Pollute My Mind With Foul Images, And To Destroy The Pure Principles Inculcated By My Grandmother, And The Good Mistress Of My Childhood

If A Slave Is Unwilling To Go With His New Master, He Is Whipped, Or Locked Up In Jail, Until He Consents To Go, And Promises Not To Run Away During The Year.

Every Where The Years Bring To All Enough Of Sin And Sorrow; But In Slavery The Very Dawn Of Life Is Darkened By These Shadows

Hot Weather Brings Out Snakes And Slaveholders, And I Like One Class Of The Venomous Creatures As Little As I Do The Other.

The Slave Girl Is Reared In An Atmosphere Of Licentiousness And Fear.