that there were no little white children to share our meal this time.

In time, my older sister, Caroline, and myself got work among good
people, where we soon forgot all the hard times in the little log
cabin by the roadside in Clayton, Alabama.

Up to my womanhood, even to this day, these memories fill my mind.
Some kind friends' eyes may see these pages, and may they recall some
fond memories of their happy childhood, as what I have written brings
back my young life in the great Sunny South.

I am something of the type of Moses on this 49th birthday; not that I
am wrapped in luxuries, but that my thoughts are wrapped in the
luxuries of the heavenly life in store for me, when my life work is
done, and my friends shall be blessed by the work I shall have done.
For God has commanded me to write this book, that some one may read
and receive comfort and courage to do what God commands them to do.
God bless every soul who shall read this true life story of one born
in slavery.

It is now six years since the inspiration to write this book came to
me in the Franklin evening school. I have struggled on, helped by
friends. God said, "Write the book and I will help you." And He has.

It was through a letter of my life that the principal of the Franklin
school said, "Write the book and I will help you." But he died before
the next term, and I worked on. On this, my 49th birthday, I can say I
believe that the book is close to the finish.

My life is like the summer rose