prompt:
Chapter: During the first years of my service in Dr. Flint's family, I was
accustomed to share some indulgences with the children of my mistress.
Though this seemed to me no more than right, I was grateful for it, and
tried to merit the kindness by the faithful discharge of my duties. 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. I tried to treat them with
indifference or contempt. The master's age, my extreme youth, and the fear
that his conduct would be reported to my grandmother, made him bear this
treatment for many months. He was a crafty man, and resorted to many means
to accomplish his purposes. Sometimes he had stormy, terrific ways, that
made his victims tremble; sometimes he assumed a gentleness that he thought
must surely subdue. Of the two, I preferred his stormy moods, although they
left me trembling. He tried his utmost to corrupt the pure principles my
grandmother had instilled. He peopled my young mind with unclean images,
such as only a vile monster could think of. I turned from him with disgust
and hatred. But he was my master. I was compelled to live under the same
roof with him--where I saw a man forty years my senior daily violating the
most sacred commandments of nature. He told me I was his property; that I
must be subject to his will in all things. My soul revolted against the
mean tyranny. But where could I turn for protection? No matter whether the
slave girl be as black as ebony or as fair as her mistress. In either case,
there is no shadow of law to protect her from insult, from violence, or
even from death; all these are inflicted by fiends who bear the shape of
men. The mistress, who ought to protect the helpless victim, has no other
feelings towards her but those of jealousy and rage. The degradation, the
wrongs, the vices, that grow out of slavery, are more than I can describe.
They are greater than you would willingly believe. Surely, if you credited
one half the truths that are told you concerning the helpless millions
suffering in this cruel bondage, you at the north would not help to tighten
the yoke. You surely would refuse to do for the master, on your own soil,
the mean and cruel work which trained bloodhounds and the lowest class of
whites do for him at the south.

Every where the years bring to all enough of sin and sorrow; but in slavery
the very dawn of life is darkened by these shadows. Even the little child,
who is accustomed to wait on her mistress and her children, will learn,
before she is twelve years old, why it is that her mistress hates such and
such a one among the slaves. Perhaps the child's own mother is among those
hated ones. She listens to violent outbreaks of jealous passion, and cannot
help understanding what is the cause. She will become prematurely knowing
in evil things. Soon she will learn to tremble when she hears her master's
footfall. She will be compelled to realize that she is no longer a child.
If God has bestowed beauty upon her, it will prove her greatest curse. That
which commands admiration in the white woman only hastens the degradation
of the female slave. I know that some are too much brutalized by slavery to
feel the humiliation of their position; but many slaves feel it most
acutely, and shrink from the memory of it. I cannot tell how much I
suffered in the presence of these wrongs, nor how I am still pained by the
retrospect. My master met me at every turn, reminding me that I belonged to
him, and swearing by heaven and earth that he would compel me to submit to
him. If I went out for a breath of fresh air, after a day of unwearied
toil, his footsteps dogged me. If I knelt by my mother's grave, his dark
shadow fell on me even there. The light heart which nature had given me
became heavy with sad forebodings. The other slaves in my master's house
noticed the change. Many of them pitied me; but none dared to ask the
cause. They had no need to inquire. They knew too well the guilty practices
under that roof; and they were aware that to speak of them was an offence
that never went unpunished.

I longed for some one to confide in. I would have given the world to have
laid my head on my grandmother's faithful bosom, and told her all my
troubles. But Dr. Flint swore he would kill me, if I was not as silent as
the grave. Then, although my grandmother was all in all to me, I feared her
as well as loved her. I had been accustomed to look up to her with a
respect bordering upon awe. I was very young, and felt shamefaced about
telling her such impure things, especially as I knew her to be very strict
on such subjects. Moreover, she was a woman of a high spirit. She was
usually very quiet in her demeanor; but if her indignation was once
roused, it was not very easily quelled. I had been told that she once
chased a white gentleman with a loaded pistol, because he insulted one
of her daughters. I dreaded the consequences of a violent outbreak;
and both pride and fear kept me silent. But though I did not confide
in my grandmother, and even evaded her vigilant watchfulness and inquiry,
her presence in the neighborhood was some protection to me. Though she
had been a slave, Dr. Flint was afraid of her. He dreaded her scorching
rebukes. Moreover, she was known and patronized by many people; and he
did not wish to have his villany made public. It was lucky for me that
I did not live on a distant plantation, but in a town not so large that
the inhabitants were ignorant of each other's affairs. Bad as are the
laws and customs in a slaveholding community, the doctor, as a
professional man, deemed it prudent to keep up some outward show of
decency.

O, what days and nights of fear and sorrow that man caused me! Reader, it
is not to awaken sympathy for myself that I am telling you truthfully what
I suffered in slavery. I do it to kindle a flame of compassion in your
hearts for my sisters who are still in bondage, suffering as I once
suffered.

I once saw two beautiful children playing together. One was a fair white
child; the other was her slave, and also her sister. When I saw them
embracing each other, and heard their joyous laughter, I turned sadly away
from the lovely sight. I foresaw the inevitable blight that would fall on
the little slave's heart. I knew how soon her laughter would be changed to
sighs. The fair child grew up to be a still fairer woman. From childhood to
womanhood her pathway was blooming with flowers, and overarched by a sunny
sky. Scarcely one day of her life had been clouded when the sun rose on her
happy bridal morning.

How had those years dealt with her slave sister, the little playmate of her
childhood? She, also, was very beautiful; but the flowers and sunshine of
love were not for her. She drank the cup of sin, and shame, and misery,
whereof her persecuted race are compelled to drink.

In view of these things, why are ye silent, ye free men and women of the
north? Why do your tongues falter in maintenance of the right? Would that I
had more ability! But my heart is so full, and my pen is so weak! There are
noble men and women who plead for us, striving to help those who cannot
help themselves. God bless them! God give them strength and courage to go
on! God bless those, every where, who are laboring to advance the cause of
humanity!

I would ten thousand times rather that my children should be the
half-starved paupers of Ireland than to be the most pampered among the
slaves of America. I would rather drudge out my life on a cotton
plantation, till the grave opened to give me rest, than to live with an
unprincipled master and a jealous mistress. The felon's home in a
penitentiary is preferable. He may repent, and turn from the error of his
ways, and so find peace; but it is not so with a favorite slave. She is not
allowed to have any pride of character. It is deemed a crime in her to wish
to be virtuous.

Mrs. Flint possessed the key to her husband's character before I was born.
She might have used this knowledge to counsel and to screen the young and
the innocent among her slaves; but for them she had no sympathy. They were
the objects of her constant suspicion and malevolence. She watched her
husband with unceasing vigilance; but he was well practised in means to
evade it. What he could not find opportunity to say in words he manifested
in signs. He invented more than were ever thought of in a deaf and dumb
asylum. I let them pass, as if I did not understand what he meant; and many
were the curses and threats bestowed on me for my stupidity. One day he
caught me teaching myself to write. He frowned, as if he was not well
pleased; but I suppose he came to the conclusion that such an
accomplishment might help to advance his favorite scheme. Before long,
notes were often slipped into my hand. I would return them, saying, "I
can't read them, sir." "Can't you?" he replied; "then I must read them to
you." He always finished the reading by asking, "Do you understand?"
Sometimes he would complain of the heat of the tea room, and order his
supper to be placed on a small table in the piazza. He would seat himself
there with a well-satisfied smile, and tell me to stand by and brush away
the flies. He would eat very slowly, pausing between the mouthfuls. These
intervals were employed in describing the happiness I was so foolishly
throwing away, and in threatening me with the penalty that finally awaited
my stubborn disobedience. He boasted much of the forbearance he had
exercised towards me, and reminded me that there was a limit to his
patience. When I succeeded in avoiding opportunities for him to talk to me
at home, I was ordered to come to his office, to do some errand. When
there, I was obliged to stand and listen to such language as he saw fit to
address to me. Sometimes I so openly expressed my contempt for him that he
would become violently enraged, and I wondered why he did not strike me.
Circumstanced as he was, he probably thought it was better policy to be
forebearing. But the state of things grew worse and worse daily. In
desperation I told him that I must and would apply to my grandmother for
protection. He threatened me with death, and worse than death, if I made
any complaint to her. Strange to say, I did not despair. I was naturally of
a buoyant disposition, and always I had a hope of somehow getting out of
his clutches. Like many a poor, simple slave before me, I trusted that some
threads of joy would yet be woven into my dark destiny.

I had entered my sixteenth year, and every day it became more apparent that
my presence was intolerable to Mrs. Flint. Angry words frequently passed
between her and her husband. He had never punished me himself, and he would
not allow any body else to punish me. In that respect, she was never
satisfied; but, in her angry moods, no terms were too vile for her to
bestow upon me. Yet I, whom she detested so bitterly, had far more pity for
her than he had, whose duty it was to make her life happy. I never wronged
her, or wished to wrong her, and one word of kindness from her would have
brought me to her feet.

After repeated quarrels between the doctor and his wife, he announced his
intention to take his youngest daughter, then four years old, to sleep in
his apartment. It was necessary that a servant should sleep in the same
room, to be on hand if the child stirred. I was selected for that office,
and informed for what purpose that arrangement had been made. By managing
to keep within sight of people, as much as possible, during the day time, I
had hitherto succeeded in eluding my master, though a razor was often held
to my throat to force me to change this line of policy. At night I slept by
the side of my great aunt, where I felt safe. He was too prudent to come
into her room. She was an old woman, and had been in the family many years.
Moreover, as a married man, and a professional man, he deemed it necessary
to save appearances in some degree. But he resolved to remove the obstacle
in the way of his scheme; and he thought he had planned it so that he
should evade suspicion. He was well aware how much I prized my refuge by
the side of my old aunt, and he determined to dispossess me of it. The
first night the doctor had the little child in his room alone. The next
morning, I was ordered to take my station as nurse the following night. A
kind Providence interposed in my favor. During the day Mrs. Flint heard of
this new arrangement, and a storm followed. I rejoiced to hear it rage.

After a while my mistress sent for me to come to her room. Her first
question was, "Did you know you were to sleep in the doctor's room?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Who told you?"

"My master."

"Will you answer truly all the questions I ask?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Tell me, then, as you hope to be forgiven, are you innocent of what I have
accused you?"

"I am."

She handed me a Bible, and said, "Lay your hand on your heart, kiss this
holy book, and swear before God that you tell me the truth."

I took the oath she required, and I did it with a clear conscience.

"You have taken God's holy word to testify your innocence," said she. "If
you have deceived me, beware! Now take this stool, sit down, look me
directly in the face, and tell me all that has passed between your master
and you."

I did as she ordered. As I went on with my account her color changed
frequently, she wept, and sometimes groaned. She spoke in tones so sad,
that I was touched by her grief. The tears came to my eyes; but I was soon
convinced that her emotions arose from anger and wounded pride. She felt
that her marriage vows were desecrated, her dignity insulted; but she had
no compassion for the poor victim of her husband's perfidy. She pitied
herself as a martyr; but she was incapable of feeling for the condition of
shame and misery in which her unfortunate, helpless slave was placed. Yet
perhaps she had some touch of feeling for me; for when the conference was
ended, she spoke kindly, and promised to protect me. I should have been
much comforted by this assurance if I could have had confidence in it; but
my experiences in slavery had filled me with distrust. She was not a very
refined woman, and had not much control over her passions. I was an object
of her jealousy, and, consequently, of her hatred; and I knew I could not
expect kindness or confidence from her under the circumstances in which I
was placed. I could not blame her. Slaveholders' wives feel as other women
would under similar circumstances. The fire of her temper kindled from
small-sparks, and now the flame became so intense that the doctor was
obliged to give up his intended arrangement.

I knew I had ignited the torch, and I expected to suffer for it afterwards;
but I felt too thankful to my mistress for the timely aid she rendered me
to care much about that. She now took me to sleep in a room adjoining her
own. There I was an object of her especial care, though not to her especial
comfort, for she spent many a sleepless night to watch over me. Sometimes I
woke up, and found her bending over me. At other times she whispered in my
ear, as though it was her husband who was speaking to me, and listened to
hear what I would answer. If she startled me, on such occasions, she would
glide stealthily away; and the next morning she would tell me I had been
talking in my sleep, and ask who I was talking to. At last, I began to be
fearful for my life. It had been often threatened; and you can imagine,
better than I can describe, what an unpleasant sensation it must produce to
wake up in the dead of night and find a jealous woman bending over you.
Terrible as this experience was, I had fears that it would give place to
one more terrible.

My mistress grew weary of her vigils; they did not prove satisfactory. She
changed her tactics. She now tried the trick of accusing my master of
crime, in my presence, and gave my name as the author of the accusation. To
my utter astonishment, he replied, "I don't believe it; but if she did
acknowledge it, you tortured her into exposing me." Tortured into exposing
him! Truly, Satan had no difficulty in distinguishing the color of his
soul! I understood his object in making this false representation. It was
to show me that I gained nothing by seeking the protection of my mistress;
that the power was still all in his own hands. I pitied Mrs. Flint. She was
a second wife, many years the junior of her husband; and the hoary-headed
miscreant was enough to try the patience of a wiser and better woman. She
was completely foiled, and knew not how to proceed. She would gladly have
had me flogged for my supposed false oath; but, as I have already stated,
the doctor never allowed any one to whip me. The old sinner was politic.
The application of the lash might have led to remarks that would have
exposed him in the eyes of his children and grandchildren. How often did I
rejoice that I lived in a town where all the inhabitants knew each other!
If I had been on a remote plantation, or lost among the multitude of a
crowded city, I should not be a living woman at this day.

The secrets of slavery are concealed like those of the Inquisition. My
master was, to my knowledge, the father of eleven slaves. But did the
mothers dare to tell who was the father of their children? Did the other
slaves dare to allude to it, except in whispers among themselves? No,
indeed! They knew too well the terrible consequences.

My grandmother could not avoid seeing things which excited her suspicions.
She was uneasy about me, and tried various ways to buy me; but the
never-changing answer was always repeated: "Linda does not belong to _me_.
She is my daughter's property, and I have no legal right to sell her." The
conscientious man! He was too scrupulous to _sell_ me; but he had no
scruples whatever about committing a much greater wrong against the
helpless young girl placed under his guardianship, as his daughter's
property. Sometimes my persecutor would ask me whether I would like to be
sold. I told him I would rather be sold to any body than to lead such a
life as I did. On such occasions he would assume the air of a very injured
individual, and reproach me for my ingratitude. "Did I not take you into
the house, and make you the companion of my own children?" he would say.
"Have _I_ ever treated you like a negro? I have never allowed you to be
punished, not even to please your mistress. And this is the recompense I
get, you ungrateful girl!" I answered that he had reasons of his own for
screening me from punishment, and that the course he pursued made my
mistress hate me and persecute me. If I wept, he would say, "Poor child!
Don't cry! don't cry! I will make peace for you with your mistress. Only
let me arrange matters in my own way. Poor, foolish girl! you don't know
what is for your own good. I would cherish you. I would make a lady of you.
Now go, and think of all I have promised you."

I did think of it.

Reader, I draw no imaginary pictures of southern homes. I am telling you
the plain truth. Yet when victims make their escape from the wild beast of
Slavery, northerners consent to act the part of bloodhounds, and hunt the
poor fugitive back into his den, "full of dead men's bones, and all
uncleanness." Nay, more, they are not only willing, but proud, to give
their daughters in marriage to slaveholders. The poor girls have romantic
notions of a sunny clime, and of the flowering vines that all the year
round shade a happy home. To what disappointments are they destined! The
young wife soon learns that the husband in whose hands she has placed her
happiness pays no regard to his marriage vows. Children of every shade of
complexion play with her own fair babies, and too well she knows that they
are born unto him of his own household. Jealousy and hatred enter the
flowery home, and it is ravaged of its loveliness.

Southern women often marry a man knowing that he is the father of many
little slaves. They do not trouble themselves about it. They regard such
children as property, as marketable as the pigs on the plantation; and it
is seldom that they do not make them aware of this by passing them into the
slave-trader's hands as soon as possible, and thus getting them out of
their sight. I am glad to say there are some honorable exceptions.

I have myself known two southern wives who exhorted their husbands to free
those slaves towards whom they stood in a "parental relation;" and their
request was granted. These husbands blushed before the superior nobleness
of their wives' natures. Though they had only counselled them to do that
which it was their duty to do, it commanded their respect, and rendered
their conduct more exemplary. Concealment was at an end, and confidence
took the place of distrust.

Though this bad institution deadens the moral sense, even in white women,
to a fearful extent, it is not altogether extinct. I have heard southern
ladies say of Mr. Such a one, "He not only thinks it no disgrace to be the
father of those little niggers, but he is not ashamed to call himself their
master. I declare, such things ought not to be tolerated in any decent
society!"

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: In Chapters 5 and 6, Linda, age 15, describes the daily torments she must endure in the Flint household. Pursued by the lecherous Dr. Flint, age 55, she invokes the jealous rage of Mrs. Flint who, instead of trying to protect Linda, sees her as responsible for arousing her husband's lust. To illustrate that her plight is no different from that of countless other black women, Linda tells the story of two sisters who are raised together even though one is the others' slave. But although the white girl grows up and gets married, her darker-skinned sister is left behind to endure the shame and degradation of sexual exploitation by her master. When Dr. Flint realizes that he cannot coerce Linda into submitting to his advances with threats of violence or promises of favorable treatment, he comes up with a new scheme: He decides to bring his four-year-old daughter to his apartment and designates Linda as the child's servant, which requires her to sleep in the little girl's room at night. He then brings his daughter into his own bedroom, which requires Linda to sleep in his room. When Mrs. Flint hears of this arrangement, she is furious and demands that Linda swear on her Bible that she did not sleep with her husband. Linda readily does so, and Mrs. Flint, temporarily satisfied, promises to protect Linda from her husband. Consequently, she demands that Linda sleep in a room adjoining her own, where she keeps a constant watch over her, an arrangement Linda eventually finds even more nerve-wracking than being pursued by Dr. Flint. When this new arrangement no longer satisfies her, she begins accusing her husband of improper behavior in front of Linda. When Linda realizes that the immature, emotional Mrs. Flint is totally at the mercy of her manipulative husband, she knows that she cannot count on her for protection. Suspicious of the goings-on in the Flint household, Linda's grandmother offers to buy Linda's freedom, but Dr. Flint refuses, insisting that because Linda is the "property" of his daughter, he has no right to sell her. Meanwhile, Dr. Flint continues to pursue Linda, alternating his threats of violence with promises of favorable treatment and appeals to Linda's "ingratitude" for not appreciating his "kindness."


prompt:
Chapter: Why does the slave ever love? Why allow the tendrils of the heart to twine
around objects which may at any moment be wrenched away by the hand of
violence? When separations come by the hand of death, the pious soul can
bow in resignation, and say, "Not my will, but thine be done, O Lord!" But
when the ruthless hand of man strikes the blow, regardless of the misery he
causes, it is hard to be submissive. I did not reason thus when I was a
young girl. Youth will be youth. I loved and I indulged the hope that the
dark clouds around me would turn out a bright lining. I forgot that in the
land of my birth the shadows are too dense for light to penetrate. A land

   Where laughter is not mirth; nor thought the mind;
   Nor words a language; nor e'en men mankind.
   Where cries reply to curses, shrieks to blows,
   And each is tortured in his separate hell.

There was in the neighborhood a young colored carpenter; a free born man.
We had been well acquainted in childhood, and frequently met together
afterwards. We became mutually attached, and he proposed to marry me. I
loved him with all the ardor of a young girl's first love. But when I
reflected that I was a slave, and that the laws gave no sanction to the
marriage of such, my heart sank within me. My lover wanted to buy me; but I
knew that Dr. Flint was too willful and arbitrary a man to consent to that
arrangement. From him, I was sure of experiencing all sort of opposition,
and I had nothing to hope from my mistress. She would have been delighted
to have got rid of me, but not in that way. It would have relieved her mind
of a burden if she could have seen me sold to some distant state, but if I
was married near home I should be just as much in her husband's power as I
had previously been,--for the husband of a slave has no power to protect
her. Moreover, my mistress, like many others, seemed to think that slaves
had no right to any family ties of their own; that they were created merely
to wait upon the family of the mistress. I once heard her abuse a young
slave girl, who told her that a colored man wanted to make her his wife. "I
will have you peeled and pickled, my lady," said she, "if I ever hear you
mention that subject again. Do you suppose that I will have you tending
_my_ children with the children of that nigger?" The girl to whom she said
this had a mulatto child, of course not acknowledged by its father. The
poor black man who loved her would have been proud to acknowledge his
helpless offspring.

Many and anxious were the thoughts I revolved in my mind. I was at a loss
what to do. Above all things, I was desirous to spare my lover the insults
that had cut so deeply into my own soul. I talked with my grandmother about
it, and partly told her my fears. I did not dare to tell her the worst. She
had long suspected all was not right, and if I confirmed her suspicions I
knew a storm would rise that would prove the overthrow of all my hopes.

This love-dream had been my support through many trials; and I could not
bear to run the risk of having it suddenly dissipated. There was a lady in
the neighborhood, a particular friend of Dr. Flint's, who often visited the
house. I had a great respect for her, and she had always manifested a
friendly interest in me. Grandmother thought she would have great influence
with the doctor. I went to this lady, and told her my story. I told her I
was aware that my lover's being a free-born man would prove a great
objection; but he wanted to buy me; and if Dr. Flint would consent to that
arrangement, I felt sure he would be willing to pay any reasonable price.
She knew that Mrs. Flint disliked me; therefore, I ventured to suggest that
perhaps my mistress would approve of my being sold, as that would rid her
of me. The lady listened with kindly sympathy, and promised to do her
utmost to promote my wishes. She had an interview with the doctor, and I
believe she pleaded my cause earnestly; but it was all to no purpose.

How I dreaded my master now! Every minute I expected to be summoned to his
presence; but the day passed, and I heard nothing from him. The next
morning, a message was brought to me: "Master wants you in his study." I
found the door ajar, and I stood a moment gazing at the hateful man who
claimed a right to rule me, body and soul. I entered, and tried to appear
calm. I did not want him to know how my heart was bleeding. He looked
fixedly at me, with an expression which seemed to say, "I have half a mind
to kill you on the spot." At last he broke the silence, and that was a
relief to both of us.

"So you want to be married, do you?" said he, "and to a free nigger."

"Yes, sir."

"Well, I'll soon convince you whether I am your master, or the nigger
fellow you honor so highly. If you _must_ have a husband, you may take up
with one of my slaves."

What a situation I should be in, as the wife of one of _his_ slaves, even
if my heart had been interested!

I replied, "Don't you suppose, sir, that a slave can have some preference
about marrying? Do you suppose that all men are alike to her?"

"Do you love this nigger?" said he, abruptly.

"Yes, sir."

"How dare you tell me so!" he exclaimed, in great wrath. After a slight
pause, he added, "I supposed you thought more of yourself; that you felt
above the insults of such puppies."

I replied, "If he is a puppy, I am a puppy, for we are both of the negro
race. It is right and honorable for us to love each other. The man you call
a puppy never insulted me, sir; and he would not love me if he did not
believe me to be a virtuous woman."

He sprang upon me like a tiger, and gave me a stunning blow. It was the
first time he had ever struck me; and fear did not enable me to control my
anger. When I had recovered a little from the effects, I exclaimed, "You
have struck me for answering you honestly. How I despise you!"

There was silence for some minutes. Perhaps he was deciding what should be
my punishment; or, perhaps, he wanted to give me time to reflect on what I
had said, and to whom I had said it. Finally, he asked, "Do you know what
you have said?"

"Yes, sir; but your treatment drove me to it."

"Do you know that I have a right to do as I like with you,--that I can kill
you, if I please?"

"You have tried to kill me, and I wish you had; but you have no right to do
as you like with me."

"Silence!" he exclaimed, in a thundering voice. "By heavens, girl, you
forget yourself too far! Are you mad? If you are, I will soon bring you to
your senses. Do you think any other master would bear what I have borne
from you this morning? Many masters would have killed you on the spot. How
would you like to be sent to jail for your insolence?"

"I know I have been disrespectful, sir," I replied; "but you drove me to
it; I couldn't help it. As for the jail, there would be more peace for me
there than there is here."

"You deserve to go there," said he, "and to be under such treatment, that
you would forget the meaning of the word _peace_. It would do you good. It
would take some of your high notions out of you. But I am not ready to send
you there yet, notwithstanding your ingratitude for all my kindness and
forbearance. You have been the plague of my life. I have wanted to make you
happy, and I have been repaid with the basest ingratitude; but though you
have proved yourself incapable of appreciating my kindness, I will be
lenient towards you, Linda. I will give you one more chance to redeem your
character. If you behave yourself and do as I require, I will forgive you
and treat you as I always have done; but if you disobey me, I will punish
you as I would the meanest slave on my plantation. Never let me hear that
fellow's name mentioned again. If I ever know of your speaking to him, I
will cowhide you both; and if I catch him lurking about my premises, I will
shoot him as soon as I would a dog. Do you hear what I say? I'll teach you
a lesson about marriage and free niggers! Now go, and let this be the last
time I have occasion to speak to you on this subject."

Reader, did you ever hate? I hope not. I never did but once; and I trust I
never shall again. Somebody has called it "the atmosphere of hell;" and I
believe it is so.

For a fortnight the doctor did not speak to me. He thought to mortify me;
to make me feel that I had disgraced myself by receiving the honorable
addresses of a respectable colored man, in preference to the base proposals
of a white man. But though his lips disdained to address me, his eyes were
very loquacious. No animal ever watched its prey more narrowly than he
watched me. He knew that I could write, though he had failed to make me
read his letters; and he was now troubled lest I should exchange letters
with another man. After a while he became weary of silence; and I was sorry
for it. One morning, as he passed through the hall, to leave the house, he
contrived to thrust a note into my hand. I thought I had better read it,
and spare myself the vexation of having him read it to me. It expressed
regret for the blow he had given me, and reminded me that I myself was
wholly to blame for it. He hoped I had become convinced of the injury I was
doing myself by incurring his displeasure. He wrote that he had made up his
mind to go to Louisiana; that he should take several slaves with him, and
intended I should be one of the number. My mistress would remain where she
was; therefore I should have nothing to fear from that quarter. If I
merited kindness from him, he assured me that it would be lavishly
bestowed. He begged me to think over the matter, and answer the following
day.

The next morning I was called to carry a pair of scissors to his room. I
laid them on the table, with the letter beside them. He thought it was my
answer, and did not call me back. I went as usual to attend my young
mistress to and from school. He met me in the street, and ordered me to
stop at his office on my way back. When I entered, he showed me his letter,
and asked me why I had not answered it. I replied, "I am your daughter's
property, and it is in your power to send me, or take me, wherever you
please." He said he was very glad to find me so willing to go, and that we
should start early in the autumn. He had a large practice in the town, and
I rather thought he had made up the story merely to frighten me. However
that might be, I was determined that I would never go to Louisiana with
him.

Summer passed away, and early in the autumn Dr. Flint's eldest son was sent
to Louisiana to examine the country, with a view to emigrating. That news
did not disturb me. I knew very well that I should not be sent with _him_.
That I had not been taken to the plantation before this time, was owing to
the fact that his son was there. He was jealous of his son; and jealousy of
the overseer had kept him from punishing me by sending me into the fields
to work. Is it strange, that I was not proud of these protectors? As for
the overseer, he was a man for whom I had less respect than I had for a
bloodhound.

Young Mr. Flint did not bring back a favorable report of Louisiana, and I
heard no more of that scheme. Soon after this, my lover met me at the
corner of the street, and I stopped to speak to him. Looking up, I saw my
master watching us from his window. I hurried home, trembling with fear. I
was sent for, immediately, to go to his room. He met me with a blow. "When
is mistress to be married?" said he, in a sneering tone. A shower of oaths
and imprecations followed. How thankful I was that my lover was a free man!
that my tyrant had no power to flog him for speaking to me in the street!

Again and again I revolved in my mind how all this would end. There was no
hope that the doctor would consent to sell me on any terms. He had an iron
will, and was determined to keep me, and to conquer me. My lover was an
intelligent and religious man. Even if he could have obtained permission to
marry me while I was a slave, the marriage would give him no power to
protect me from my master. It would have made him miserable to witness the
insults I should have been subjected to. And then, if we had children, I
knew they must "follow the condition of the mother." What a terrible blight
that would be on the heart of a free, intelligent father! For _his_ sake, I
felt that I ought not to link his fate with my own unhappy destiny. He was
going to Savannah to see about a little property left him by an uncle; and
hard as it was to bring my feelings to it, I earnestly entreated him not to
come back. I advised him to go to the Free States, where his tongue would
not be tied, and where his intelligence would be of more avail to him. He
left me, still hoping the day would come when I could be bought. With me
the lamp of hope had gone out. The dream of my girlhood was over. I felt
lonely and desolate.

Still I was not stripped of all. I still had my good grandmother, and my
affectionate brother. When he put his arms round my neck, and looked into
my eyes, as if to read there the troubles I dared not tell, I felt that I
still had something to love. But even that pleasant emotion was chilled by
the reflection that he might be torn from me at any moment, by some sudden
freak of my master. If he had known how we loved each other, I think he
would have exulted in separating us. We often planned together how we could
get to the north. But, as William remarked, such things are easier said
than done. My movements were very closely watched, and we had no means of
getting any money to defray our expenses. As for grandmother, she was
strongly opposed to her children's undertaking any such project. She had
not forgotten poor Benjamin's sufferings, and she was afraid that if
another child tried to escape, he would have a similar or a worse fate. To
me, nothing seemed more dreadful than my present life. I said to myself,
"William _must_ be free. He shall go to the north, and I will follow him."
Many a slave sister has formed the same plans.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Linda falls in love with a free black man who wants to marry her and offers to buy her, but Dr. Flint refuses to sell her. Fearing for her lover's life, Linda begs him to go to the Free States. Left alone, she is grateful for the company of her grandmother and her brother, William.


prompt:
Chapter: Slaveholders pride themselves upon being honorable men; but if you were to
hear the enormous lies they tell their slaves, you would have small respect
for their veracity. I have spoken plain English. Pardon me. I cannot use a
milder term. When they visit the north, and return home, they tell their
slaves of the runaways they have seen, and describe them to be in the most
deplorable condition. A slaveholder once told me that he had seen a runaway
friend of mine in New York, and that she besought him to take her back to
her master, for she was literally dying of starvation; that many days she
had only one cold potato to eat, and at other times could get nothing at
all. He said he refused to take her, because he knew her master would not
thank him for bringing such a miserable wretch to his house. He ended by
saying to me, "This is the punishment she brought on herself for running
away from a kind master."

This whole story was false. I afterwards staid with that friend in New
York, and found her in comfortable circumstances. She had never thought of
such a thing as wishing to go back to slavery. Many of the slaves believe
such stories, and think it is not worth while to exchange slavery for such
a hard kind of freedom. It is difficult to persuade such that freedom could
make them useful men, and enable them to protect their wives and children.
If those heathen in our Christian land had as much teaching as some
Hindoos, they would think otherwise. They would know that liberty is more
valuable than life. They would begin to understand their own capabilities,
and exert themselves to become men and women.

But while the Free States sustain a law which hurls fugitives back into
slavery, how can the slaves resolve to become men? There are some who
strive to protect wives and daughters from the insults of their masters;
but those who have such sentiments have had advantages above the general
mass of slaves. They have been partially civilized and Christianized by
favorable circumstances. Some are bold enough to _utter_ such sentiments to
their masters. O, that there were more of them!

Some poor creatures have been so brutalized by the lash that they will
sneak out of the way to give their masters free access to their wives and
daughters. Do you think this proves the black man to belong to an inferior
order of beings? What would _you_ be, if you had been born and brought up a
slave, with generations of slaves for ancestors? I admit that the black man
_is_ inferior. But what is it that makes him so? It is the ignorance in
which white men compel him to live; it is the torturing whip that lashes
manhood out of him; it is the fierce bloodhounds of the South, and the
scarcely less cruel human bloodhounds of the north, who enforce the
Fugitive Slave Law. _They_ do the work.

Southern gentlemen indulge in the most contemptuous expressions about the
Yankees, while they, on their part, consent to do the vilest work for them,
such as the ferocious bloodhounds and the despised negro-hunters are
employed to do at home. When southerners go to the north, they are proud to
do them honor; but the northern man is not welcome south of Mason and
Dixon's line, unless he suppresses every thought and feeling at variance
with their "peculiar institution." Nor is it enough to be silent. The
masters are not pleased, unless they obtain a greater degree of
subservience than that; and they are generally accommodated. Do they
respect the northerner for this? I trow not. Even the slaves despise "a
northern man with southern principles;" and that is the class they
generally see. When northerners go to the south to reside, they prove very
apt scholars. They soon imbibe the sentiments and disposition of their
neighbors, and generally go beyond their teachers. Of the two, they are
proverbially the hardest masters.

They seem to satisfy their consciences with the doctrine that God created
the Africans to be slaves. What a libel upon the heavenly Father, who "made
of one blood all nations of men!" And then who _are_ Africans? Who can
measure the amount of Anglo-Saxon blood coursing in the veins of American
slaves?

I have spoken of the pains slaveholders take to give their slaves a bad
opinion of the north; but, notwithstanding this, intelligent slaves are
aware that they have many friends in the Free States. Even the most
ignorant have some confused notions about it. They knew that I could read;
and I was often asked if I had seen any thing in the newspapers about white
folks over in the big north, who were trying to get their freedom for them.
Some believe that the abolitionists have already made them free, and that
it is established by law, but that their masters prevent the law from going
into effect. One woman begged me to get a newspaper and read it over. She
said her husband told her that the black people had sent word to the queen
of 'Merica that they were all slaves; that she didn't believe it, and went
to Washington city to see the president about it. They quarrelled; she drew
her sword upon him, and swore that he should help her to make them all
free.

That poor, ignorant woman thought that America was governed by a Queen, to
whom the President was subordinate. I wish the President was subordinate to
Queen Justice.

There was a planter in the country, not far from us, whom I will call Mr.
Litch. He was an ill-bred, uneducated man, but very wealthy. He had six
hundred slaves, many of whom he did not know by sight. His extensive
plantation was managed by well-paid overseers. There was a jail and a
whipping post on his grounds; and whatever cruelties were perpetrated
there, they passed without comment. He was so effectually screened by his
great wealth that he was called to no account for his crimes, not even for
murder.

Various were the punishments resorted to. A favorite one was to tie a rope
round a man's body, and suspend him from the ground. A fire was kindled
over him, from which was suspended a piece of fat pork. As this cooked, the
scalding drops of fat continually fell on the bare flesh. On his own
plantation, he required very strict obedience to the eighth commandment.
But depredations on the neighbors were allowable, provided the culprit
managed to evade detection or suspicion. If a neighbor brought a charge of
theft against any of his slaves, he was browbeaten by the master, who
assured him that his slaves had enough of every thing at home, and had no
inducement to steal. No sooner was the neighbor's back turned, than the
accused was sought out, and whipped for his lack of discretion. If a slave
stole from him even a pound of meat or a peck of corn, if detection
followed, he was put in chains and imprisoned, and so kept till his form
was attentuated by hunger and suffering.

A freshnet once bore his wine cellar and meat house miles away from the
plantation. Some slaves followed, and secured bits of meat and bottles of
wine. Two were detected; a ham and some liquor being found in their huts.
They were summoned by their master. No words were used, but a club felled
them to the ground. A rough box was their coffin, and their interment was a
dog's burial. Nothing was said.

Murder was so common on his plantation that he feared to be alone after
nightfall. He might have believed in ghosts.

His brother, if not equal in wealth, was at least equal in cruelty. His
bloodhounds were well trained. Their pen was spacious, and a terror to the
slaves. They were let loose on a runway, and, if they tracked him, they
literally tore the flesh from his bones. When this slaveholder died, his
shrieks and groans were so frightful that they appalled his own friends.
His last words were, "I am going to hell; bury my money with me."

After death his eyes remained open. To press the lids down, silver dollars
were laid on them. These were buried with him. From this circumstance, a
rumor went abroad that his coffin was filled with money. Three times his
grave was opened, and his coffin taken out. The last time, his body was
found on the ground, and a flock of buzzards were pecking at it. He was
again interred, and a sentinel set over his grave. The perpetrators were
never discovered.

Cruelty is contagious in uncivilized communities. Mr. Conant, a neighbor of
Mr. Litch, returned from town one evening in a partial state of
intoxication. His body servant gave him some offence. He was divested of
his clothes, except his shirt, whipped, and tied to a large tree in front
of the house. It was a stormy night in winter. The wind blew bitterly cold,
and the boughs of the old tree crackled under falling sleet. A member of
the family, fearing he would freeze to death, begged that he might be taken
down; but the master would not relent. He remained there three hours; and,
when he was cut down, he was more dead than alive. Another slave, who stole
a pig from this master, to appease his hunger, was terribly flogged. In
desperation, he tried to run away. But at the end of two miles, he was so
faint with loss of blood, he thought he was dying. He had a wife, and he
longed to see her once more. Too sick to walk, he crept back that long
distance on his hands and knees. When he reached his master's, it was
night. He had not strength to rise and open the gate. He moaned, and tried
to call for help. I had a friend living in the same family. At last his cry
reached her. She went out and found the prostrate man at the gate. She ran
back to the house for assistance, and two men returned with her. They
carried him in, and laid him on the floor. The back of his shirt was one
clot of blood. By means of lard, my friend loosened it from the raw flesh.
She bandaged him, gave him cool drink, and left him to rest. The master
said he deserved a hundred more lashes. When his own labor was stolen from
him, he had stolen food to appease his hunger. This was his crime.

Another neighbor was a Mrs. Wade. At no hour of the day was there cessation
of the lash on her premises. Her labors began with the dawn, and did not
cease till long after nightfall. The barn was her particular place of
torture. There she lashed the slaves with the might of a man. An old slave
of hers once said to me, "It is hell in missis's house. 'Pears I can never
get out. Day and night I prays to die."

The mistress died before the old woman, and, when dying, entreated her
husband not to permit any one of her slaves to look on her after death. A
slave who had nursed her children, and had still a child in her care,
watched her chance, and stole with it in her arms to the room where lay her
dead mistress. She gazed a while on her, then raised her hand and dealt two
blows on her face, saying, as she did so, "The devil is got you _now_!" She
forgot that the child was looking on. She had just begun to talk; and she
said to her father, "I did see ma, and mammy did strike ma, so," striking
her own face with her little hand. The master was startled. He could not
imagine how the nurse could obtain access to the room where the corpse lay;
for he kept the door locked. He questioned her. She confessed that what the
child had said was true, and told how she had procured the key. She was
sold to Georgia.

In my childhood I knew a valuable slave, named Charity, and loved her, as
all children did. Her young mistress married, and took her to Louisiana.
Her little boy, James, was sold to a good sort of master. He became
involved in debt, and James was sold again to a wealthy slaveholder, noted
for his cruelty. With this man he grew up to manhood, receiving the
treatment of a dog. After a severe whipping, to save himself from further
infliction of the lash, with which he was threatened, he took to the woods.
He was in a most miserable condition--cut by the cowskin, half naked, half
starved, and without the means of procuring a crust of bread.

Some weeks after his escape, he was captured, tied, and carried back to his
master's plantation. This man considered punishment in his jail, on bread
and water, after receiving hundreds of lashes, too mild for the poor
slave's offence. Therefore he decided, after the overseer should have
whipped him to his satisfaction, to have him placed between the screws of
the cotton gin, to stay as long as he had been in the woods. This wretched
creature was cut with the whip from his head to his feet, then washed with
strong brine, to prevent the flesh from mortifying, and make it heal sooner
than it otherwise would. He was then put into the cotton gin, which was
screwed down, only allowing him room to turn on his side when he could not
lie on his back. Every morning a slave was sent with a piece of bread and
bowl of water, which was placed within reach of the poor fellow. The slave
was charged, under penalty of severe punishment, not to speak to him.

Four days passed, and the slave continued to carry the bread and water. On
the second morning, he found the bread gone, but the water untouched. When
he had been in the press four days and five night, the slave informed his
master that the water had not been used for four mornings, and that
horrible stench came from the gin house. The overseer was sent to examine
into it. When the press was unscrewed, the dead body was found partly eaten
by rats and vermin. Perhaps the rats that devoured his bread had gnawed him
before life was extinct. Poor Charity! Grandmother and I often asked each
other how her affectionate heart would bear the news, if she should ever
hear of the murder of her son. We had known her husband, and knew that
James was like him in manliness and intelligence. These were the qualities
that made it so hard for him to be a plantation slave. They put him into a
rough box, and buried him with less feeling than would have been manifested
for an old house dog. Nobody asked any questions. He was a slave; and the
feeling was that the master had a right to do what he pleased with his own
property. And what did _he_ care for the value of a slave? He had hundreds
of them. When they had finished their daily toil, they must hurry to eat
their little morsels, and be ready to extinguish their pine knots before
nine o'clock, when the overseer went his patrol rounds. He entered every
cabin, to see that men and their wives had gone to bed together, lest the
men, from over-fatigue, should fall asleep in the chimney corner, and
remain there till the morning horn called them to their daily task. Women
are considered of no value, unless they continually increase their owner's
stock. They are put on a par with animals. This same master shot a woman
through the head, who had run away and been brought back to him. No one
called him to account for it. If a slave resisted being whipped, the
bloodhounds were unpacked, and set upon him, to tear his flesh from his
bones. The master who did these things was highly educated, and styled a
perfect gentleman. He also boasted the name and standing of a Christian,
though Satan never had a truer follower.

I could tell of more slaveholders as cruel as those I have described. They
are not exceptions to the general rule. I do not say there are no humane
slaveholders. Such characters do exist, notwithstanding the hardening
influences around them. But they are "like angels' visits--few and far
between."

I knew a young lady who was one of these rare specimens. She was an orphan,
and inherited as slaves a woman and her six children. Their father was a
free man. They had a comfortable home of their own, parents and children
living together. The mother and eldest daughter served their mistress
during the day, and at night returned to their dwelling, which was on the
premises. The young lady was very pious, and there was some reality in her
religion. She taught her slaves to lead pure lives, and wished them to
enjoy the fruit of their own industry. _Her_ religion was not a garb put on
for Sunday, and laid aside till Sunday returned again. The eldest daughter
of the slave mother was promised in marriage to a free man; and the day
before the wedding this good mistress emancipated her, in order that her
marriage might have the sanction of _law_.

Report said that this young lady cherished an unrequited affection for a
man who had resolved to marry for wealth. In the course of time a rich
uncle of hers died. He left six thousand dollars to his two sons by a
colored woman, and the remainder of his property to this orphan niece. The
metal soon attracted the magnet. The lady and her weighty purse became his.
She offered to manumit her slaves--telling them that her marriage might
make unexpected changes in their destiny, and she wished to insure their
happiness. They refused to take their freedom, saying that she had always
been their best friend, and they could not be so happy any where as with
her. I was not surprised. I had often seen them in their comfortable home,
and thought that the whole town did not contain a happier family. They had
never felt slavery; and, when it was too late, they were convinced of its
reality.

When the new master claimed this family as his property, the father became
furious, and went to his mistress for protection. "I can do nothing for you
now, Harry," said she. "I no longer have the power I had a week ago. I have
succeeded in obtaining the freedom of your wife; but I cannot obtain it for
your children." The unhappy father swore that nobody should take his
children from him. He concealed them in the woods for some days; but they
were discovered and taken. The father was put in jail, and the two oldest
boys sold to Georgia. One little girl, too young to be of service to her
master, was left with the wretched mother. The other three were carried to
their master's plantation. The eldest soon became a mother; and when the
slaveholder's wife looked at the babe, she wept bitterly. She knew that her
own husband had violated the purity she had so carefully inculcated. She
had a second child by her master, and then he sold her and his offspring to
his brother. She bore two children to the brother and was sold again. The
next sister went crazy. The life she was compelled to lead drove her mad.
The third one became the mother of five daughters. Before the birth of the
fourth the pious mistress died. To the last, she rendered every kindness to
the slaves that her unfortunate circumstances permitted. She passed away
peacefully, glad to close her eyes on a life which had been made so
wretched by the man she loved.

This man squandered the fortune he had received, and sought to retrieve his
affairs by a second marriage; but, having retired after a night of drunken
debauch, he was found dead in the morning. He was called a good master; for
he fed and clothed his slaves better than most masters, and the lash was
not heard on his plantation so frequently as on many others. Had it not
been for slavery, he would have been a better man, and his wife a happier
woman.

No pen can give an adequate description of the all-pervading corruption
produced by slavery. The slave girl is reared in an atmosphere of
licentiousness and fear. The lash and the foul talk of her master and his
sons are her teachers. When she is fourteen or fifteen, her owner, or his
sons, or the overseer, or perhaps all of them, begin to bribe her with
presents. If these fail to accomplish their purpose, she is whipped or
starved into submission to their will. She may have had religious
principles inculcated by some pious mother or grandmother, or some good
mistress; she may have a lover, whose good opinion and peace of mind are
dear to her heart; or the profligate men who have power over her may be
exceedingly odious to her. But resistance is hopeless.

   The poor worm
   Shall prove her contest vain. Life's little day
   Shall pass, and she is gone!

The slaveholder's sons are, of course, vitiated, even while boys, by the
unclean influences every where around them. Nor do the master's daughters
always escape. Severe retributions sometimes come upon him for the wrongs
he does to the daughters of the slaves. The white daughters early hear
their parents quarrelling about some female slave. Their curiosity is
excited, and they soon learn the cause. They are attended by the young
slave girls whom their father has corrupted; and they hear such talk as
should never meet youthful ears, or any other ears. They know that the
woman slaves are subject to their father's authority in all things; and in
some cases they exercise the same authority over the men slaves. I have
myself seen the master of such a household whose head was bowed down in
shame; for it was known in the neighborhood that his daughter had selected
one of the meanest slaves on his plantation to be the father of his first
grandchild. She did not make her advances to her equals, nor even to her
father's more intelligent servants. She selected the most brutalized, over
whom her authority could be exercised with less fear of exposure. Her
father, half frantic with rage, sought to revenge himself on the offending
black man; but his daughter, foreseeing the storm that would arise, had
given him free papers, and sent him out of the state.

In such cases the infant is smothered, or sent where it is never seen by
any who know its history. But if the white parent is the _father_, instead
of the mother, the offspring are unblushingly reared for the market. If
they are girls, I have indicated plainly enough what will be their
inevitable destiny.

You may believe what I say; for I write only that whereof I know. I was
twenty-one years in that cage of obscene birds. I can testify, from my own
experience and observation, that slavery is a curse to the whites as well
as to the blacks. It makes white fathers cruel and sensual; the sons
violent and licentious; it contaminates the daughters, and makes the wives
wretched. And as for the colored race, it needs an abler pen than mine to
describe the extremity of their sufferings, the depth of their degradation.

Yet few slaveholders seem to be aware of the widespread moral ruin
occasioned by this wicked system. Their talk is of blighted cotton
crops--not of the blight on their children's souls.

If you want to be fully convinced of the abominations of slavery, go on a
southern plantation, and call yourself a negro trader. Then there will be
no concealment; and you will see and hear things that will seem to you
impossible among human beings with immortal souls.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: In Chapters 8 and 9, Linda digresses from her personal narrative to address some broader issues concerning the conditions of slaves and the institution of slavery. In these two chapters, she focuses on the reasons that many slaves didn't defy the slaveholders or attempt escape. In Chapter 8, Linda discusses the lies and misinformation that slaveholders communicated to slaves in order to discourage them from running away. For example, one slaveholder shares a story about a runaway facing death from starvation. She also holds Northerners accountable for their complicity in slavery, especially for enforcing the Fugitive Slave Law. Briefly in Chapter 8 and throughout Chapter 9, Linda describes the physical violence inflicted on slaves by slaveholders. Linda presents harrowing tales concerning the murder, torture, and abuse of slaves on plantations owned by three neighboring slaveholders: Mr. Litch, Mr. Conant, and Mrs. Wade.


prompt:
Chapter: After my lover went away, Dr. Flint contrived a new plan. He seemed to have
an idea that my fear of my mistress was his greatest obstacle. In the
blandest tones, he told me that he was going to build a small house for me,
         in a secluded place, four miles away from the town. I shuddered; but I was
         constrained to listen, while he talked of his intention to give me a home
         of my own, and to make a lady of me. Hitherto, I had escaped my dreaded
         fate, by being in the midst of people. My grandmother had already had high
         words with my master about me. She had told him pretty plainly what she
         thought of his character, and there was considerable gossip in the
         neighborhood about our affairs, to which the open-mouthed jealousy of Mrs.
         Flint contributed not a little. When my master said he was going to build a
         house for me, and that he could do it with little trouble and expense, I
         was in hopes something would happen to frustrate his scheme; but I soon
         heard that the house was actually begun. I vowed before my Maker that I
         would never enter it: I had rather toil on the plantation from dawn till
         dark; I had rather live and die in jail, than drag on, from day to day,
         through such a living death. I was determined that the master, whom I so
         hated and loathed, who had blighted the prospects of my youth, and made my
         life a desert, should not, after my long struggle with him, succeed at last
         in trampling his victim under his feet. I would do any thing, every thing,
         for the sake of defeating him. What _could_ I do? I thought and thought,
         till I became desperate, and made a plunge into the abyss.

         And now, reader, I come to a period in my unhappy life, which I would
         gladly forget if I could. The remembrance fills me with sorrow and shame.
         It pains me to tell you of it; but I have promised to tell you the truth,
         and I will do it honestly, let it cost me what it may. I will not try to
         screen myself behind the plea of compulsion from a master; for it was not
         so. Neither can I plead ignorance or thoughtlessness. For years, my master
         had done his utmost to pollute my mind with foul images, and to destroy the
         pure principles inculcated by my grandmother, and the good mistress of my
         childhood. The influences of slavery had had the same effect on me that
         they had on other young girls; they had made me prematurely knowing,
         concerning the evil ways of the world. I knew what I did, and I did it with
         deliberate calculation.

         But, O, ye happy women, whose purity has been sheltered from childhood, who
         have been free to choose the objects of your affection, whose homes are
         protected by law, do not judge the poor desolate slave girl too severely!
         If slavery had been abolished, I, also, could have married the man of my
         choice; I could have had a home shielded by the laws; and I should have
         been spared the painful task of confessing what I am now about to relate;
         but all my prospects had been blighted by slavery. I wanted to keep myself
         pure; and, under the most adverse circumstances, I tried hard to preserve
         my self-respect; but I was struggling alone in the powerful grasp of the
         demon Slavery; and the monster proved too strong for me. I felt as if I was
         forsaken by God and man; as if all my efforts must be frustrated; and I
         became reckless in my despair.

         I have told you that Dr. Flint's persecutions and his wife's jealousy had
         given rise to some gossip in the neighborhood. Among others, it chanced
         that a white unmarried gentleman had obtained some knowledge of the
         circumstances in which I was placed. He knew my grandmother, and often
         spoke to me in the street. He became interested for me, and asked questions
         about my master, which I answered in part. He expressed a great deal of
         sympathy, and a wish to aid me. He constantly sought opportunities to see
         me, and wrote to me frequently. I was a poor slave girl, only fifteen years
         old.

         So much attention from a superior person was, of course, flattering; for
         human nature is the same in all. I also felt grateful for his sympathy, and
         encouraged by his kind words. It seemed to me a great thing to have such a
         friend. By degrees, a more tender feeling crept into my heart. He was an
         educated and eloquent gentleman; too eloquent, alas, for the poor slave
         girl who trusted in him. Of course I saw whither all this was tending. I
         knew the impassable gulf between us; but to be an object of interest to a
         man who is not married, and who is not her master, is agreeable to the
         pride and feelings of a slave, if her miserable situation has left her any
         pride or sentiment. It seems less degrading to give one's self, than to
         submit to compulsion. There is something akin to freedom in having a lover
         who has no control over you, except that which he gains by kindness and
         attachment. A master may treat you as rudely as he pleases, and you dare
         not speak; moreover, the wrong does not seem so great with an unmarried
         man, as with one who has a wife to be made unhappy. There may be sophistry
         in all this; but the condition of a slave confuses all principles of
         morality, and, in fact, renders the practice of them impossible.

         When I found that my master had actually begun to build the lonely cottage,
         other feelings mixed with those I have described. Revenge, and calculations
         of interest, were added to flattered vanity and sincere gratitude for
         kindness. I knew nothing would enrage Dr. Flint so much as to know that I
         favored another, and it was something to triumph over my tyrant even in
         that small way. I thought he would revenge himself by selling me, and I was
         sure my friend, Mr. Sands, would buy me. He was a man of more generosity
         and feeling than my master, and I thought my freedom could be easily
         obtained from him. The crisis of my fate now came so near that I was
         desperate. I shuddered to think of being the mother of children that should
         be owned by my old tyrant. I knew that as soon as a new fancy took him, his
         victims were sold far off to get rid of them; especially if they had
         children. I had seen several women sold, with babies at the breast. He
         never allowed his offspring by slaves to remain long in sight of himself
         and his wife. Of a man who was not my master I could ask to have my
         children well supported; and in this case, I felt confident I should obtain
         the boon. I also felt quite sure that they would be made free. With all
         these thoughts revolving in my mind, and seeing no other way of escaping
         the doom I so much dreaded, I made a headlong plunge. Pity me, and pardon
         me, O virtuous reader! You never knew what it is to be a slave; to be
         entirely unprotected by law or custom; to have the laws reduce you to the
         condition of a chattel, entirely subject to the will of another. You never
         exhausted your ingenuity in avoiding the snares, and eluding the power of a
         hated tyrant; you never shuddered at the sound of his footsteps, and
         trembled within hearing of his voice. I know I did wrong. No one can feel
         it more sensibly than I do. The painful and humiliating memory will haunt
         me to my dying day. Still, in looking back, calmly, on the events of my
         life, I feel that the slave woman ought not to be judged by the same
         standard as others.

         The months passed on. I had many unhappy hours. I secretly mourned over the
         sorrow I was bringing on my grandmother, who had so tried to shield me from
         harm. I knew that I was the greatest comfort of her old age, and that it
         was a source of pride to her that I had not degraded myself, like most of
         the slaves. I wanted to confess to her that I was no longer worthy of her
         love; but I could not utter the dreaded words.

         As for Dr. Flint, I had a feeling of satisfaction and triumph in the
         thought of telling _him_. From time to time he told me of his intended
         arrangements, and I was silent. At last, he came and told me the cottage
         was completed, and ordered me to go to it. I told him I would never enter
         it. He said, "I have heard enough of such talk as that. You shall go, if
         you are carried by force; and you shall remain there."

         I replied, "I will never go there. In a few months I shall be a mother."

         He stood and looked at me in dumb amazement, and left the house without a
         word. I thought I should be happy in my triumph over him. But now that the
         truth was out, and my relatives would hear of it, I felt wretched. Humble
         as were their circumstances, they had pride in my good character. Now, how
         could I look at them in the face? My self-respect was gone! I had resolved
         that I would be virtuous, though I was a slave. I had said, "Let the storm
         beat! I will brave it till I die." And now, how humiliated I felt!

         I went to my grandmother. My lips moved to make confession, but the words
         stuck in my throat. I sat down in the shade of a tree at her door and began
         to sew. I think she saw something unusual was the matter with me. The
         mother of slaves is very watchful. She knows there is no security for her
         children. After they have entered their teens she lives in daily
         expectation of trouble. This leads to many questions. If the girl is of a
         sensitive nature, timidity keeps her from answering truthfully, and this
         well-meant course has a tendency to drive her from maternal counsels.
         Presently, in came my mistress, like a mad woman, and accused me concerning
         her husband. My grandmother, whose suspicions had been previously awakened,
         believed what she said. She exclaimed, "O Linda! Has it come to this? I had
         rather see you dead than to see you as you now are. You are a disgrace to
         your dead mother." She tore from my fingers my mother's wedding ring and
         her silver thimble. "Go away!" she exclaimed, "and never come to my house,
         again." Her reproaches fell so hot and heavy, that they left me no chance
         to answer. Bitter tears, such as the eyes never shed but once, were my only
         answer. I rose from my seat, but fell back again, sobbing. She did not
         speak to me; but the tears were running down her furrowed cheeks, and they
         scorched me like fire. She had always been so kind to me! _So_ kind! How I
         longed to throw myself at her feet, and tell her all the truth! But she had
         ordered me to go, and never to come there again. After a few minutes, I
         mustered strength, and started to obey her. With what feelings did I now
         close that little gate, which I used to open with such an eager hand in my
         childhood! It closed upon me with a sound I never heard before.

         Where could I go? I was afraid to return to my master's. I walked on
         recklessly, not caring where I went, or what would become of me. When I had
         gone four or five miles, fatigue compelled me to stop. I sat down on the
         stump of an old tree. The stars were shining through the boughs above me.
         How they mocked me, with their bright, calm light! The hours passed by, and
         as I sat there alone a chilliness and deadly sickness came over me. I sank
         on the ground. My mind was full of horrid thoughts. I prayed to die; but
         the prayer was not answered. At last, with great effort I roused myself,
         and walked some distance further, to the house of a woman who had been a
         friend of my mother. When I told her why I was there, she spoke soothingly
         to me; but I could not be comforted. I thought I could bear my shame if I
         could only be reconciled to my grandmother. I longed to open my heart to
         her. I thought if she could know the real state of the case, and all I had
         been bearing for years, she would perhaps judge me less harshly. My friend
         advised me to send for her. I did so; but days of agonizing suspense passed
         before she came. Had she utterly forsaken me? No. She came at last. I knelt
         before her, and told her the things that had poisoned my life; how long I
         had been persecuted; that I saw no way of escape; and in an hour of
         extremity I had become desperate. She listened in silence. I told her I
         would bear any thing and do any thing, if in time I had hopes of obtaining
         her forgiveness. I begged of her to pity me, for my dead mother's sake. And
         she did pity me. She did not say, "I forgive you;" but she looked at me
         lovingly, with her eyes full of tears. She laid her old hand gently on my
         head, and murmured, "Poor child! Poor child!"

I returned to my good grandmother's house. She had an interview with Mr.
Sands. When she asked him why he could not have left her one ewe
lamb,--whether there were not plenty of slaves who did not care about
character,--he made no answer, but he spoke kind and encouraging words. He
promised to care for my child, and to buy me, be the conditions what they
might.

I had not seen Dr. Flint for five days. I had never seen him since I made
the avowal to him. He talked of the disgrace I had brought on myself; how I
had sinned against my master, and mortified my old grandmother. He
intimated that if I had accepted his proposals, he, as a physician, could
have saved me from exposure. He even condescended to pity me. Could he have
offered wormwood more bitter? He, whose persecutions had been the cause of
my sin!

"Linda," said he, "though you have been criminal towards me, I feel for
you, and I can pardon you if you obey my wishes. Tell me whether the fellow
you wanted to marry is the father of your child. If you deceive me, you
shall feel the fires of hell."

I did not feel as proud as I had done. My strongest weapon with him was
gone. I was lowered in my own estimation, and had resolved to bear his
abuse in silence. But when he spoke contemptuously of the lover who had
always treated me honorably; when I remembered that but for _him_ I might
have been a virtuous, free, and happy wife, I lost my patience. "I have
sinned against God and myself," I replied; "but not against you."

He clinched his teeth, and muttered, "Curse you!" He came towards me, with
ill-suppressed rage, and exclaimed, "You obstinate girl! I could grind your
bones to powder! You have thrown yourself away on some worthless rascal.
You are weak-minded, and have been easily persuaded by those who don't care
a straw for you. The future will settle accounts between us. You are
blinded now; but hereafter you will be convinced that your master was your
best friend. My lenity towards you is a proof of it. I might have punished
you in many ways. I might have whipped till you fell dead under the lash.
But I wanted you to live; I would have bettered your condition. Others
cannot do it. You are my slave. Your mistress, disgusted by your conduct,
forbids you to return to the house; therefore I leave you here for the
present; but I shall see you often. I will call to-morrow."

He came with frowning brows, that showed a dissatisfied state of mind.
After asking about my health, he inquired whether my board was paid, and
who visited me. He then went on to say that he had neglected his duty; that
as a physician there were certain things that he ought to have explained to
me. Then followed talk such as would have made the most shameless blush. He
ordered me to stand up before him. I obeyed. "I command you," said he, "to
tell me whether the father of your child is white or black." I hesitated.
"Answer me this instant!" he exclaimed. I did answer. He sprang upon me
like a wolf, and grabbed my arm as if he would have broken it. "Do you love
him?" said he, in a hissing tone.

"I am thankful that I do not despise him," I replied.

He raised his hand to strike me; but it fell again. I don't know what
arrested the blow. He sat down, with lips tightly compressed. At last he
spoke. "I came here," said he, "to make you a friendly proposition; but
your ingratitude chafes me beyond endurance. You turn aside all my good
intentions towards you. I don't know what it is that keeps me from killing
you." Again he rose, as if he had a mind to strike me.

But he resumed. "On one condition I will forgive your insolence and crime.
You must henceforth have no communication of any kind with the father of
your child. You must not ask any thing from him, or receive any thing from
him. I will take care of you and your child. You had better promise this at
once, and not wait till you are deserted by him. This is the last act of
mercy I shall show towards you."

I said something about being unwilling to have my child supported by a man
who had cursed it and me also. He rejoined, that a woman who had sunk to my
level had no right to expect any thing else. He asked, for the last time,
would I accept his kindness? I answered that I would not.

"Very well," said he; "then take the consequences of your wayward course.
Never look to me for help. You are my slave, and shall always be my slave.
I will never sell you, that you may depend upon."

Hope died away in my heart as he closed the door after him. I had
calculated that in his rage he would sell me to a slave-trader; and I knew
the father of my child was on the watch to buy me.

About this time my uncle Phillip was expected to return from a voyage. The
day before his departure I had officiated as bridesmaid to a young friend.
My heart was then ill at ease, but my smiling countenance did not betray
it. Only a year had passed; but what fearful changes it had wrought! My
heart had grown gray in misery. Lives that flash in sunshine, and lives
that are born in tears, receive their hue from circumstances. None of us
know what a year may bring forth.

I felt no joy when they told me my uncle had come. He wanted to see me,
though he knew what had happened. I shrank from him at first; but at last
consented that he should come to my room. He received me as he always had
done. O, how my heart smote me when I felt his tears on my burning cheeks!
The words of my grandmother came to my mind,--"Perhaps your mother and
father are taken from the evil days to come." My disappointed heart could
now praise God that it was so. But why, thought I, did my relatives ever
cherish hopes for me? What was there to save me from the usual fate of
slave girls? Many more beautiful and more intelligent than I had
experienced a similar fate, or a far worse one. How could they hope that I
should escape?

My uncle's stay was short, and I was not sorry for it. I was too ill in
mind and body to enjoy my friends as I had done. For some weeks I was
unable to leave my bed. I could not have any doctor but my master, and I
would not have him sent for. At last, alarmed by my increasing illness,
they sent for him. I was very weak and nervous; and as soon as he entered
the room, I began to scream. They told him my state was very critical. He
had no wish to hasten me out of the world, and he withdrew.

When my babe was born, they said it was premature. It weighed only four
pounds; but God let it live. I heard the doctor say I could not survive
till morning. I had often prayed for death; but now I did not want to die,
unless my child could die too. Many weeks passed before I was able to leave
my bed. I was a mere wreck of my former self. For a year there was scarcely
a day when I was free from chills and fever. My babe also was sickly. His
little limbs were often racked with pain. Dr. Flint continued his visits,
to look after my health; and he did not fail to remind me that my child was
an addition to his stock of slaves.

I felt too feeble to dispute with him, and listened to his remarks in
silence. His visits were less frequent; but his busy spirit could not
remain quiet. He employed my brother in his office; and he was made the
medium of frequent notes and messages to me. William was a bright lad, and
of much use to the doctor. He had learned to put up medicines, to leech,
cup, and bleed. He had taught himself to read and spell. I was proud of my
brother, and the old doctor suspected as much. One day, when I had not seen
him for several weeks, I heard his steps approaching the door. I dreaded
the encounter, and hid myself. He inquired for me, of course; but I was
nowhere to be found. He went to his office, and despatched William with a
note. The color mounted to my brother's face when he gave it to me; and he
said, "Don't you hate me, Linda, for bringing you these things?" I told him
I could not blame him; he was a slave, and obliged to obey his master's
will. The note ordered me to come to his office. I went. He demanded to
know where I was when he called. I told him I was at home. He flew into a
passion, and said he knew better. Then he launched out upon his usual
themes,--my crimes against him, and my ingratitude for his forbearance. The
laws were laid down to me anew, and I was dismissed. I felt humiliated that
my brother should stand by, and listen to such language as would be
addressed only to a slave. Poor boy! He was powerless to defend me; but I
saw the tears, which he vainly strove to keep back. The manifestation of
feeling irritated the doctor. William could do nothing to please him. One
morning he did not arrive at the office so early as usual; and that
circumstance afforded his master an opportunity to vent his spleen. He was
put in jail. The next day my brother sent a trader to the doctor, with a
request to be sold. His master was greatly incensed at what he called his
insolence. He said he had put him there, to reflect upon his bad conduct,
and he certainly was not giving any evidence of repentance. For two days he
harassed himself to find somebody to do his office work; but every thing
went wrong without William. He was released, and ordered to take his old
stand, with many threats, if he was not careful about his future behavior.

As the months passed on, my boy improved in health. When he was a year old,
they called him beautiful. The little vine was taking deep root in my
existence, though its clinging fondness excited a mixture of love and pain.
When I was most sorely oppressed I found a solace in his smiles. I loved to
watch his infant slumbers; but always there was a dark cloud over my
enjoyment. I could never forget that he was a slave. Sometimes I wished
that he might die in infancy. God tried me. My darling became very ill. The
bright eyes grew dull, and the little feet and hands were so icy cold that
I thought death had already touched them. I had prayed for his death, but
never so earnestly as I now prayed for his life; and my prayer was heard.
Alas, what mockery it is for a slave mother to try to pray back her dying
child to life! Death is better than slavery. It was a sad thought that I
had no name to give my child. His father caressed him and treated him
kindly, whenever he had a chance to see him. He was not unwilling that he
should bear his name; but he had no legal claim to it; and if I had
bestowed it upon him, my master would have regarded it as a new crime, a
new piece of insolence, and would, perhaps, revenge it on the boy. O, the
serpent of Slavery has many and poisonous fangs!

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: In Chapter 10, Linda resumes her story from Chapter 7 about her relationship with the free black carpenter. Having refused the man's offer to buy Linda's freedom, Dr. Flint adopts a new tactic to try to win Linda's submission: He offers to build her a house and make her "a lady." In desperation, Linda decides to enter into a sexual relationship with Mr. Sands, a white lawyer who has shown an interest in her. Reasoning that he is unmarried, that he seems to be a gentleman, and that -- if she consents to be his mistress -- he will most likely buy her from Dr. Flint, Linda consents to his advances and becomes pregnant by him. The next time Dr. Flint approaches her, she experiences a moment of triumph when she tells him that she is carrying another man's child. When she tries to explain her situation to her grandmother, she finds it difficult to speak. Consequently, her grandmother, thinking that Linda has given in to Dr. Flint, turns her out of her house. Heartbroken at the thought that she has disgraced her family, Linda leaves in tears and finds shelter at a friend's home. After confessing her situation, the friend convinces her to send for her grandmother and tell her the truth. Linda does so, and the two women reconcile. Linda returns home to live with her grandmother. Concerned for her welfare, Linda's grandmother speaks to Mr. Sands, who promises to care for Linda and her child. Meanwhile, Dr. Flint is outraged at what he perceives as Linda's betrayal and tries to coerce her into revealing her lover's identity. When she refuses, he reaffirms his vow that she will remain his slave for life. Shortly before Linda's baby is born, her Uncle Phillip comes for a visit. Linda is ashamed of her condition and, at first, tries to avoid him. But she finally agrees to see him and is touched by his compassion. Linda is exhausted from physical and emotional stress, and she becomes critically ill, but refuses to let Dr. Flint treat her. Her baby is born prematurely and both mother and child are weak and sickly for a year, during which Dr. Flint visits them on occasion, meanwhile venting his wrath on Linda's brother, William, who works as his assistant. Gradually, Linda and her baby boy -- who remains nameless -- regain their strength.