Historical voices

The cause was good; the men engaged in it were good; the means to attain its triumph, good; Heaven’s blessing must attend all, and freedom must soon be given to the pining millions under a ruthless bondage.

The time is but as a speck, yet large enough to justify a pause for retrospection—and a pause it must only be.

My hands had been furnished by nature with something like a solid leather coating, and I had bravely marked out for myself a life of rough labor, suited to the hardness of my hands, as a means of supporting myself and rearing my children.

It was enough for me to listen—to receive and applaud the great words of others, and only whisper in private, among the white laborers on the wharves, and elsewhere, the truths which burned in my breast.

My acquaintance with the movement increased my hope for the ultimate freedom of my race, and I united with it from a sense of delight, as well as duty.

Those ministers who defended slavery from the bible, were of their “father the devil”; and those churches which fellowshiped slaveholders as Christians, were synagogues of Satan, and our nation was a nation of liars.

Of all men beneath the sky, the slaves, because most neglected and despised, were nearest and dearest to his great heart.

His words were few, full of holy fire, and straight to the point.

He seemed a match for all the oponents(sic) of emancipation, whether they spoke in the name of the law, or the gospel.

I not only liked—I loved this paper, and its editor.

It detested slavery exposed hypocrisy and wickedness in high places—made no truce with the traffickers in the bodies and souls of men; it preached human brotherhood, denounced oppression, and, with all the solemnity of God’s word, demanded…

The Liberator was a paper after my own heart.

Many seasons of peace and joy I experienced among them, the remembrance of which is still precious, although I could not see it to be my duty to remain with that body, when I found that it consented to the same spirit which held my…

I found it impossible to respect the religious profession of any who were under the dominion of this wicked prejudice, and I could not, therefore, feel that in joining them, I was joining a Christian church, at all.

Surely,” thought I, “these Christian people have none of this feeling against color.

Once converted, I thought they would be sure to treat me as a man and a brother.

I was now living in a new world, and was wide awake to its advantages.

This winter past, and I was up with the times—got plenty of work—got well paid for it—and felt that I had not done a foolish thing to leave Master Hugh and Master Thomas.

That day’s work I considered the real starting point of something like a new existence.

I can work for a living; I am not afraid of work; I have no Master Hugh to rob me of my earnings”—placed me in a state of independence, beyond seeking friendship or support of any man.

I was now my own master—a tremendous fact—and the rapturous excitement with which I seized the job, may not easily be understood, except by some one with an experience like mine.

The reason is, that the colored people in that city are educated up to the point of fighting for their freedom, as well as speaking for it.

The colored people themselves were of the best metal, and would fight for liberty to the death.

No colored man is really free in a slaveholding state.