Death Is Better Than Slavery.

When I Was Nearly Twelve Years Old, My Kind Mistress Sickened And Died.

The Secrets Of Slavery Are Concealed Like Those Of The Inquisition.

When My Babe Was Born, They Said It Was Premature. It Weighed Only Four Pounds; But God Let It Live.

No Pen Can Give An Adequate Description Of The All-pervading Corruption Produced By Slavery.

The Beautiful Spring Came; And When Nature Resumes Her Loveliness, The Human Soul Is Apt To Revive Also.