Harriet's own recollections, which are wonderfully distinct and
minute, but also from other corroborative sources, gives but a
very imperfect account of what this woman has been.

Her color, and the servile condition in which she was born and
reared, have doomed her to obscurity, but a more heroic soul did
not breathe in the bosom of Judith or of Jeanne D'Arc.

No fear of the lash, the blood-hound, or the fiery stake, could
divert her from her self-imposed task of leading as many as
possible of her people "from the land of Egypt, from the house of
bondage."

The book is good literature for the black race, or the white race,
and though no similar conditions may arise, to test the
possibilities that are in any of them, yet the example of this
poor slave woman may well stand out before them, and before all
people, black or white, to show what a lofty and martyr spirit may
accomplish, struggling against overwhelming obstacles.




HARRIET,

THE MOSES OF HER PEOPLE.


On a hot summer's day, perhaps sixty years ago, a group of merry
little darkies were rolling and tumbling in the sand in front of