hen the clergyman was about to pronounce the
marriage ceremony of a young couple. He said "if there be any present
who have any objections to this couple being joined together in holy
wedlock, let them speak now, or hold their peace henceforth." At this
time Paddy sprang to his feet and said, "Sir, I object to this." Every
eye was fixed upon him. "What is your objection?" said the clergyman.
"Faith," replied Paddy, "Sir I want her myself."

The man to whom I belonged was opposed, because he feared my taking
off from his farm some of the fruits of my own labor for Malinda to
eat, in the shape of pigs, chickens, or turkeys, and would count it
not robbery. So we formed a resolution, that if we were prevented from
joining in wedlock, that we would run away, and strike for Canada, let
the consequences be what they might. But we had one consolation;
Malinda's master was very much in favor of the match, but entirely
upon selfish principles. When I went to ask his permission to marry
Malinda, his answer was in the affirmative with but one condition
which I consider to be too vulgar to be written in this book. Our
marriage took place one night during the Christmas holydays; at which
time we had quite a festival given us. All appeared to be wide awake,
and we had quite a jolly time at my wedding party. And notwithstanding
our marriage was without license or sanction of law, we believed it to
be honorable before God, and the bed undefiled. Our Christmas holydays
were spent in matrimonial visiting among our friends, while it should
have been spent in running away to Canada, for our liberty. But
freedom was little thought of by us, for several months after
marriage. I often look back to that period even now as one of the most
happy seasons of my life; notwithstanding all the contaminating and
heart-rendering features with which the horrid system of slavery is
marked, and must carry with it to its final grave, yet I still look
back to that season with sweet remembrance and pleasure, that yet hath
power to charm and drive back dull cares which have been accumulated
by a thousand painful recollections of slavery. Malinda was to me an
affectionate wife. She was with me in the darkest hours of adversity.
She was with me in sorrow, and joy, in fasting and feasting, in trial
and persecution, in sickness and health, in sunshine and in shade.

Some months after our marriage, the unfeeling master to whom I
belonged, sold his farm with the vi