Without my knowledge, Mrs. Bruce employed a gentleman in New York to enter into negotiations with Mr. Dodge.  He proposed to pay three hundred dollars down, if Mr. Dodge would sell me, and enter into obligations to relinquish all claim to me or my children forever after.  He who called himself my master said he scorned so small an offer for such a valuable servant.  The gentleman replied, “You can do as you choose, sir.  If you reject this offer you will never get any thing; for the woman has friends who will convey her and her children out of the country.”

Mr. Dodge concluded that “half a loaf was better than no bread,” and he agreed to the proffered terms.  By the next mail I received this brief letter from Mrs. Bruce:  “I am rejoiced to tell you that the money for your freedom has been paid to Mr. Dodge.  Come home to-morrow.  I long to see you and my sweet babe.”

My brain reeled as I read these lines.  A gentleman near me said, “It’s true; I have seen the bill of sale.”  “The bill of sale!” Those words struck me like a blow.  So I was sold at last!  A human being sold in the free city of New York!  The bill of sale is on record, and future generations will learn from it that women were articles of traffic in New York, late in the nineteenth century of the Christian religion.  It may hereafter prove a useful document to antiquaries, who are seeking to measure the progress of civilization in the United States.  I well know the value of that bit of paper; but much as I love freedom, I do not like to look upon it.  I am deeply grateful to the generous friend who procured it, but I despise the miscreant who demanded payment for what never rightfully belonged to him or his.

I had objected to having my freedom bought, yet I must confess that when it was done I felt as if a heavy load had been lifted from my weary shoulders.  When I rode home in the cars I was no longer afraid to unveil my face and look at people as they passed.  I should have been glad to have met Daniel Dodge himself; to have had him seen me and known me, that he might have mourned over the untoward circumstances which compelled him to sell me for three hundred dollars.

When I reached home, the arms of my benefactress were thrown round me, and our tears mingled.  As soon as she could speak, she said, “O Linda, I’m so glad it’s all over!  You wrote to me as if you thought you were going to be transferred from one owner to another.  But I did not buy you for your services.  I should have done just the same, if you had been going to sail for California to-morrow.  I should, at least, have the satisfaction of knowing that you left me a free woman.”