"
"Yes," said I, "we at the North often speak of you Southerners as
sleeping on a volcano. Our idea is that the blacks here are prisoners,
stealing about in a sulky mood, vengeance brooding in their hearts, and
that they wait for their time of deliverance, as prisoners in our
state-prison watch their chance to escape."
"Well," said she, "believe I am the only slave on the premises. I am
sure that no one but myself is watching for a chance to escape. I would
run away from these people if I could. But what shall I do with them? I
am not willing to sell them, for when I have hinted at leaving, there is
such entreaty for me to remain, and such demonstrations of affection and
attachment, that I give it up.
"Here," said she, "are seven house-servants, large and small, to do work
which at the North a man and two capable girls would easily do. I have
to devise ways to subdivide work and give each a share. My husband
carried it so far that he had one boy to black boots and another shoes,
and these two 'bureaus' were kept separate."
"Oh," said I, "what a curse slavery is to you!"
"As to that," said she, "it is the negroes who are a curse, not their
slavery.
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