There is in Prichard’s Natural History of Man, the head of a figure—on page 157—the features of which so resemble those of my mother, that I often recur to it with something of the feeling which I suppose others experience when looking upon the pictures of dear departed ones.
Douglass draws a poignant connection between his mother and a figure in a book, reflecting on loss.
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Father he might be, and not be husband, and could sell his own child without incurring reproach, if in its veins coursed one drop of African blood.
He was called upon not merely to administer the government, but to decide, in the face of terrible odds, the fate of the Republic.