I
was glad for the sake of my little ones. Had it not been for these ties to
life, I should have been glad to be released by death, though I had lived
only nineteen years.

Always it gave me a pang that my children had no lawful claim to a name.
Their father offered his; but, if I had wished to accept the offer, I dared
not while my master lived. Moreover, I knew it would not be accepted at
their baptism. A Christian name they were at least entitled to; and we
resolved to call my boy for our dear good Benjamin, who had gone far away
from us.

My grandmother belonged to the church; and she was very desirous of having
the children christened. I knew Dr. Flint would forbid it, and I did not
venture to attempt it. But chance favored me. He was called to visit a
patient out of town, and was obliged to be absent during Sunday. "Now is
the time," said my grandmother; "we will take the children to church, and
have them christened."

When I entered the church, recollections of my mother came over me, and I
felt subdued in spirit. There she had presented me for baptism, without any
reason to feel ashamed. She had been married, and had such legal rights as
slavery allows to a slave. The vows had at least been sacred to _her_, and
she had never violated them. I was glad she was not alive, to know under
what different circumstances her grandchildren were presented for baptism.
Why had my lot been so different from my mother's? _Her_ master had died
when she was a child; and she remained with her mistress till she married.
She was never in the power of any master; and thus she escaped one class of
the evils that generally fall upon slaves.

When my baby was about to be christened, the former mistress of my father
stepped up to me, and proposed to give it her Christian name. To this I
added the surname of my father, who had himself no legal right to it; for
my grandfather on the paternal side was a white gentleman. What tangled
skeins are the genealogies of slavery! I loved my father; but it mortified
me to be obliged to bestow his name on my children.

When we left the church, my father's old mistress invited me to go home
with her. She clasped a gold chain round my baby's neck. I thanked her for
this kindness; but I did not like the emblem. I wanted no chain to be
fastened on my daughter, not even if its links were of gold. How earnestly
I prayed that she might never feel the weight of slavery's chain, whose
iron entereth into