ature and character, and to
treating me as a thing destitute of a moral or an intellectual
nature. Mrs. Auld--my mistress--was, as I have said, a most kind
and tender-hearted woman; and, in the humanity of her heart, and the
simplicity of her mind, she set out, when I first went to live with her,
to treat me as she supposed one human being ought to treat another.

It is easy to see, that, in entering upon the duties of a slaveholder,
some little experience is needed. Nature has done almost nothing to
prepare men and women to be either slaves or slaveholders. Nothing but
rigid training, long persisted in, can perfect the character of the one
or the other. One cannot easily forget to love freedom; and it is as
hard to cease to respect that natural love in our fellow creatures.
On entering upon the career of a slaveholding mistress, Mrs. Auld was
singularly deficient; nature, which fits nobody for such an office, had
done less for her than any lady I had known. It was no easy matter to
induce her to think and to feel that the curly-headed boy, who stood by
her side, and even leaned on her lap; who was loved by little Tommy, and
who loved little Tommy in turn; sustained to her only the relation of a
chattel. I was _more_ than that, and she felt me to be more than that.
I could talk and sing; I could laugh and weep; I could reason and
remember; I could love and hate. I was human, and she, dear lady, knew
and felt me to be so. How could she, then, treat me as a brute, without
a mighty struggle with all the noble powers of her own soul. That
struggle came, and the will and power of the husband was victorious. Her
noble soul was overthrown; but, he that overthrew it did not, himself,
escape the consequences. He, not less than the other parties, was
injured in his domestic peace by the fall.

When I went into their family, it was the abode of happiness and
contentment. The mistress of the house was a model of affection{120}
and tenderness. Her fervent piety and watchful uprightness made it
impossible to see her without thinking and feeling--"_that woman is a
Christian_." There was no sorrow nor suffering for which she had not a
tear, and there was no innocent joy for which she did not a smile. She
had bread for the hungry, clothes for the naked, and comfort for every
mourner that came within her reach. Slavery soon proved its ability
to divest her of these excellent qualities, and her home of its early
happiness. Conscience can