now life itself was filled with fears and anxiety as to the
possibilities of the future. Thus these two noble men, who would have
done anything for my happiness, actually overweighted my conscience and
turned the sweetest dream of my life into a tragedy. How little strong
men, with their logic, sophistry, and hypothetical examples, appreciate
the violence they inflict on the tender sensibilities of a woman's
heart, in trying to subjugate her to their will! The love of protecting
too often degenerates into downright tyranny. Fortunately all these
sombre pictures of a possible future were thrown into the background by
the tender missives every post brought me, in which the brilliant
word-painting of one of the most eloquent pens of this generation made
the future for us both, as bright and beautiful as Spring with her
verdure and blossoms of promise.

However, many things were always transpiring at Peterboro to turn one's
thoughts and rouse new interest in humanity at large. One day, as a bevy
of us girls were singing and chattering in the parlor, Cousin Gerrit
entered and, in mysterious tones, said: "I have a most important secret
to tell you, which you must keep to yourselves religiously for
twenty-four hours."

We readily pledged ourselves in the most solemn manner, individually and
collectively.

"Now," said he, "follow me to the third story."

This we did, wondering what the secret could be. At last, opening a
door, he ushered us into a large room, in the center of which sat a
beautiful quadroon girl, about eighteen years of age. Addressing her, he
said: