TO WELLS BROWN, OF OHIO.


Thirteen years ago, I came to your door, a weary fugitive from chains
and stripes. I was a stranger, and you took me in. I was hungry, and you
fed me. Naked was I, and you clothed me. Even a name by which to be
known among men, slavery had denied me. You bestowed upon me your own.
Base indeed should I be, if I ever forget what I owe to you, or do
anything to disgrace that honored name!

As a slight testimony of my gratitude to my earliest benefactor, I take
the liberty to inscribe to you this little Narrative of the sufferings
from which I was fleeing when you had compassion upon me. In the
multitude that you have succored, it is very possible that you may not
remember me; but until I forget God and myself, I can never forget you.

Your grateful friend,

WILLIAM WELLS BROWN.




LETTER FROM

EDMUND QUINCY, ESQ.