of song. The Museum men would represent her as having snatched a feather of
the bird of song; but as this is a matter-of-fact kind of story, we will
observe, that Susan not being naturally very strong-minded, and her
education not more advanced than to enable her to spell out an antiquated
valentine, or to write a letter with a great many small i's in it, she is
rather to be considered the victim of circumstances and a soft heart. She
was, nevertheless, a conscientious woman; and when she left Georgia, to
come North, had any one told her that she would run away, she would have
answered in the spirit, if not the expression, of the oft quoted, "Is thy
servant a dog?"

She enjoyed the journey to the North, the more that the little baby
improved very much in strength; she had had, at her own wish, the entire
charge of him from his birth.

The family had not been two days at the Revere House before Susan found
herself an object of interest to men who were gentlemen, if broadcloth and
patent-leather boots could constitute that valuable article. These
individuals seemed to know as much of her as she did of herself, though
they plied her with questions to a degree that quite disarranged her usual
calm and poetic flow of ideas. As to "Whether she had been born a slave, or
had been kidnapped? Whether she had ever been sold? How many times a week
she had been whipped, and what with? Had she ever been shut up in a dark
cellar and nearly starved? Was she allowed more than one meal a day? Did
she ever have any thing but sweet potato pealings? Had she ever been
ducked? And, finally, she was desired to open her mouth, that they might
see whether her teeth had been extracted to sell to the dentist?"

Poor Susan! after one or two interviews her feelings were terribly
agitated; all these horrible suggestions _might become_ realities, and