at last succeeded, and we were now all free. My mother had been a
slave for more than forty-three years, and liberty was very sweet to
her. The sound of freedom was music in our ears; the air was pure and
fragrant; the genial rays of the glorious sun burst forth with a new
lustre upon us, and all creation resounded in responses of praise to
the author and creator of him who proclaimed life and freedom to the
slave. I was overjoyed with my personal freedom, but the joy at my
mother's escape was greater than anything I had ever known. It was a
joy that reaches beyond the tide and anchors in the harbor of eternal
rest. While in oppression, this eternal life-preserver had continually
wafted her toward the land of freedom, which she was confident of
gaining, whatever might betide. Our joy that we were permitted to
mingle together our earthly bliss in glorious strains of freedom was
indescribable. My mother responded with the children of Israel,--"The
Lord is my strength and my song. The Lord is a man of war, and the
Lord is his name." We left Indianapolis the day after my mother
arrived, and took the cars at eleven o'clock the following evening for
St. Louis, my native State. We were then free, and instead of being
hurried along, bare headed and half naked, through cars and boats, by
a brutal master with a bill of sale in his pocket, we were our own,
comfortably clothed, and having the true emblems of freedom.




MOTHER'S MARRIAGE


It appeared to me that the city presented an entirely new aspect. The
reader will remember that my mother was engaged to be married on the