There Are Wrongs Which Even The Grave

When They Told Me My New-born Babe Was A Girl, My Heart Was Heavier Than It Had Ever Been Before. Slavery Is Terrible For Men; But It Is Far More Terrible For Women.

Notwithstanding My Grandmother's Long And Faithful Service To Her Owners, Not One Of Her Children Escaped The Auction Block. These God-breathing Machines Are No More, In The Sight Of Their Masters, Than The Cotton They Plant, Or The Horses They Tend.

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.

The Slave Child Had No Thought For The Morrow; But There Came That Blight, Which Too Surely Waits On Every Human Being Born To Be A Chattel.

If A Slave Is Unwilling To Go With His New Master, He Is Whipped, Or Locked Up In Jail, Until He Consents To Go, And Promises Not To Run Away During The Year.