But I now entered on my fifteenth year - a sad epoch in the life of a slave girl. My master began to whisper foul words in my ear. Young as I was, I could not remain ignorant of their import.

Death is better than slavery.

Always it gave me a pang that my children had no lawful claim to a name.

The beautiful spring came; and when Nature resumes her loveliness, the human soul is apt to revive also.