For the last two years a "still small voice" has constantly whispered
to me, in private and in public, at home and abroad, saying, _write!_
It was in vain that I strove to quiet this inward monitor by pleading
incapacity, poverty, want of time, &c.; he heeded not my excuses. I
inquired what would become of my dependant family, should I relinquish
the practice of my profession and engage in other pursuits? He
answered, "Put thy trust in the Lord, and _write!_" I yielded not to
his monitions, but continued with unabated ardor the practice of my
profession, until the latter part of autumn, 1852, when I was suddenly
prostrated by disease, and forced to desist from the practice of
medicine. I then commenced as soon as I was able, the preparation of a
work, which I contemplated bringing before the public at some future
period, provided I should live. In accordance with the plan of the
proposed work, an essay on African slavery was to close the volume.
After I had finished about a hundred pages manuscript, in order, the
question of African slavery in the United States suddenly thrust
itself upon my mind with such force, that I found it somewhat
difficult to investigate any other subject. My mind at the time was
enervated by disease, and by no means well disciplined. Hence I could
not control it. For this reason, I at once concluded to draw up a
skeleton or outline of my essay on slavery; after which I contemplated
resuming my work in regular order. It was about this time that my
health rapidly declined, and I became so feeble that I could not sit
at my table more than one or two hours in twenty-four. In this
condition, by a slow process, I finished from chapter i, to the close
of chapter xiii. The Introduction was written afterwards, to supply
some obvious defects in that portion of the work alluded to.

None need tell me that there are defects and imperfections in the
work. I am well aware of the fact, but could not remedy them without