her, but he _would_ not! Out of her own intelligence she had forged
her chains; the lameness was a hobble merely in comparison. She had
become too valuable to the negro-trader by her services among his
crew, and offers only solidified his determination not to sell her.
Visiting physicians, after short acquaintance with her capacities,
would offer what were called fancy prices for her. Planters who heard
of her through their purchases would come to the city purposely to
secure, at any cost, so inestimable an adjunct to their plantations.
Even ladies--refined, delicate ladies--sometimes came to the pen
personally to back money with influence. In vain. Little Mammy was
worth more to the negro-trader, simply as a kind of insurance against
accidents, than any sum, however glittering the figure, and he was no
ignorant expert in human wares. She can tell it; no one else can for
her. Remember that at times she had seen the streets outside. Remember
that she could hear of the outside world daily from the passing
chattels--of the plantations, farms, families; the green fields,
Sunday woods, running streams; the camp-meetings, corn-shuckings,
cotton-pickings, sugar-grindings; the baptisms, marriages, funerals,
prayer-meetings; the holidays and holy days. Remember that, whether
for liberty or whether for love, passion effloresces in the human
being--no matter when, where, or how--with every spring's return.
Remember that she was, even in middle age, young and vigorous. But no;
do not remember anything. There is no need to heighten the coloring.

It would be tedious to relate, although it was not tedious to hear her
relate it, the desperations and hopes of her life then. Hardly a day
passed that she did not see, looking for purchases (rummaging among
goods on a counter for bargains), some master whom she could have
loved, some mistress whom she could have adored. Always her favorite
mistresses were there--tall, delicate matrons, who came themselves,