Then missus said I must take
Jerushe for my wife. I didn't like Jerushe at first--she was almost
black; but missus said we were both slaves; hence, that could be no
objection. As missus's order was equally as positive as master's,
there was no alternative but to obey it, and Jerushe became my wife.
We were lawfully married, and missus made a nice little party for
us, and Jerushe loved me, and was kind to me, and her solicitude for
my welfare soon made me repay her love. I pitied her condition, and
she seemed to pity mine; and I soon forgot that she was black, and
we lived happily together, and had two children, which missus said
were hers. It was hard to reconcile this, and yet it was so, by law
as well as social right. But then missus was kind to Jerushe, and
let her buy her time at four dollars a week, which, having learned
to make dresses, she could pay and have a small surplus to lay by
every week. Jerushe knew I was struggling for freedom, and she would
help me to buy that freedom, knowing that, if I was free, I would
return her kindness, and struggle to make her free, and our children
free.
"Years rolled on,--we had placed nearly five hundred dollars in
missus's hands: but how vain were the hopes that had borne us
through so many privations for the accumulation of this portion of
our price of freedom! Master has sold my children,--yes, sold them!
He will not tell me where nor to whom. Missus will neither see nor
hear me; and master threatens to sell me to New Orleans if I resent
his act.
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