and slender. I noticed them frequently in tears. They were noticed by
a few of the passengers, who made remarks about the sad faces of those
negroes. Said one heartless woman, "Look at that nigger cryin'. I
don't see what she's cryin' about; she's got her young one and man to
her heels." I carelessly watched for an opportunity to speak with one
or both of these children of sorrow. As they sat on a pile of cable on
the rear deck I caught the opportunity to inquire where they were
going.

"We don't know; our young massa got to frettin', an' ole massa gib us
to him and some money, an' tole him to go. We lef' three bigger
chillun behin'; never 'spects to see 'em ag'in; I wish he'd buy a
plantation somewhar, so we could go to work; 'pears like thar's no
comfort for us poor people, only when we's got work, an' stops
studyin' so much."

As the tears began to fall thick and fast, I took them by the hand and
told them Jesus was the friend of the poor, and he had many followers
who also remembered them in prayer. And he knew of their sorrow, and
as they went to him he would comfort their sorrowing hearts. Pointing
to his wife, he said, "She knows that, and I wish I did." I charged
them to make no mention of my having spoken to them. For while they
were slaves, I was not free. This young man with his heavy-hearted
couple left our boat at Pine Bluff.

Surely I had seen enough of slavery in its own household. Three weeks
was long enough to see and feel its virus. I met my old friends in
Cincinnati with a glad heart, where I could draw a free breath. I
could visit them but two days before I was on my way home, where were
many glad hearts to listen in private circles to my experience in a