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Our nig, or, sketches from the life of a free black, in a two-story white house, North showing that slavery's shadows fall even there by Harriet E. Wilson
page 65 of 131 (49%)
the pertness she sometimes exhibited, he felt if
restrained properly, might become useful in
originating a self-reliance which would be of ser-
vice to her in after years.

Yet it was not possible to compass all this,
while she remained where she was. He wished
to be cautious about pressing too closely her
claims on his mother, as it would increase the
burdened one he so anxiously wished to relieve.
He cheered her on with the hope of returning
with his family, when he recovered sufficiently.

Nig seemed awakened to new hopes and
aspirations, and realized a longing for the future,
hitherto unknown.

To complete Nig's enjoyment, Jack arrived
unexpectedly. His greeting was as hearty to
herself as to any of the family.

"Where are your curls, Fra?" asked Jack,
after the usual salutation.

"Your mother cut them off."

"Thought you were getting handsome, did
she? Same old story, is it; knocks and bumps?
Better times coming; never fear, Nig."

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