trength from her words and courage from
her counsels. She has been the staff of decrepit age and the joy
of manhood in its strength. She has bent over the form of lovely
childhood, and suffered it to have a place in the Redeemer's
arms. She has stood by the bed of the dying, and unveiled the
glories of eternal life, gilding the darkness of the tomb with
the glory of the resurrection."

Her mind being of a strictly religious caste, the effusions from her pen
all savor of a highly moral and elevating tone.

About the year 1851 she left Baltimore to seek a home in a Free State,
and for a short time resided in Ohio, where she was engaged in teaching.
Contrary to her expectations, her adopted home and calling not proving
satisfactory, she left that State and came to Pennsylvania as a last
resort, and again engaged in teaching at Little York. Here she not only
had to encounter the trouble of dealing with unruly children, she was
sorely oppressed with the thought of the condition of her people in
Maryland. Not unfrequently she gave utterance to such expressions as the
following: "Not that we have not a right to breathe the air as freely as
anybody else here (in Baltimore), but we are treated worse than aliens
among a people whose language we speak, whose religion we profess, and
whose blood flows and mingles in our veins.... Homeless in the land of
our birth and worse off than strangers in the home of our nativity."
During her stay in York she had frequent opportunities of seeing
passengers on the Underground Rail Road. In one of her letters she thus
alluded to a traveler: "I saw a passenger _per_ the Underground Rail
Road yesterday; did he arrive safely? Notwithstanding that abomination
of the nineteenth century--the Fugitive Slave Law--men still determine
to be free. Notwithstanding all the darkness in which they keep the
slaves, it seems that somehow light is dawning upon their minds....
These poor fugitives are a property that can walk. Just to think that
from the rainbow-crowned Niagara to the swollen waters of the Mexican
Gulf, from the restless murmur of the Atlantic to the ceaseless roar of
the Pacific, the poor, half-starved, flying fugitive has no
resting-place for the sole of his foot!"

Whilst hesitating whether or not it would be best to continue teaching,
she wrote to a friend for advice as follows: "What would you do if you
were in my place? Would you give up and go back and work at y