To them the meeting
was as strange as to the parents it was radiant of joy. "Mother!"
said the little boy, as he took Annette by the hand and called her
sister, and kissed her as she kissed him, "was you married before
you was married to father?" The affectionate mother had no answer to
make; she might have found one in the ignominy of the slave world.
And now, when the measure of joy seemed full-when the bitterness of
the past dwindled away like a dream, and when the future like a
beacon hung out its light of promise,--Clotilda drew from a small
workstand a discoloured paper written over in Greek characters,
scarce intelligible. "Annette!" said she, "my mother gave me this
when last I saw her. The chains were then about her hands, and she
was about to be led away to the far south slave market: by it did I
discover my history." Here she unfolded its defaced pages, lifted
her eyes upwards invokingly, and continued--"To speak the crimes of
great men is to hazard an oblivion for yourself, to bring upon you
the indifference of the multitude; but great men are often greatest
in crime-for so it proved with those who completed my mother's
destruction. Give ear, then, ye grave senators, and if ye have
hearts of fathers, lend them! listen, ye queen mothers of my
country, whose sons and daughters are yet travelling the world's
uncertainties! listen, ye fathers, who have souls above Mammon's
golden grasp, and sons in whom ye put your trust! listen, ye
brothers, whose pride brightens in a sister's virtue! listen, ye
sisters, who enjoy paternal affections, and feel that one day you
may grace a country's social life! listen, ye philanthropists, ye
men of the world, who love your country, and whose hearts yearn for
its liberties-ye men sensitive of our great Republic's honour, nor
seek to traffic in the small gains of power when larger ones await
you; and, above all, lend your hearts, ye brothers of the clergy in
the slave church, and give ear while I tell who I am, and pray ye,
as ye love the soul of woman, to seek out those who, like unto what
I was, now wither in slavery.
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