When my babe was born, they said it was premature.  It weighed only four pounds; but God let it live.  I heard the doctor say I could not survive till morning.  I had often prayed for death; but now I did not want to die, unless my child could die too.  Many weeks passed before I was able to leave my bed.  I was a mere wreck of my former self.  For a year there was scarcely a day when I was free from chills and fever.  My babe also was sickly.  His little limbs were often racked with pain.  Dr. Flint continued his visits, to look after my health; and he did not fail to remind me that my child was an addition to his stock of slaves.

I felt too feeble to dispute with him, and listened to his remarks in silence.  His visits were less frequent; but his busy spirit could not remain quiet.  He employed my brother in his office; and he was made the medium of frequent notes and messages to me.  William was a bright lad, and of much use to the doctor.  He had learned to put up medicines, to leech, cup, and bleed.  He had taught himself to read and spell.  I was proud of my brother, and the old doctor suspected as much.  One day, when I had not seen him for several weeks, I heard his steps approaching the door.  I dreaded the encounter, and hid myself.  He inquired for me, of course; but I was nowhere to be found.  He went to his office, and despatched William with a note.  The color mounted to my brother’s face when he gave it to me; and he said, “Don’t you hate me, Linda, for bringing you these things?” I told him I could not blame him; he was a slave, and obliged to obey his master’s will.  The note ordered me to come to his office.  I went.  He demanded to know where I was when he called.  I told him I was at home.  He flew into a passion, and said he knew better.  Then he launched out upon his usual themes,—­my crimes against him, and my ingratitude for his forbearance.  The laws were laid down to me anew, and I was dismissed.  I felt humiliated that my brother should stand by, and listen to such language as would be addressed only to a slave.  Poor boy!  He was powerless to defend me; but I saw the tears, which he vainly strove to keep back.  The manifestation of feeling irritated the doctor.  William could do nothing to please him.  One morning he did not arrive at the office so early as usual; and that circumstance afforded his master an opportunity to vent his spleen.  He was put in jail.  The next day my brother sent a trader to the doctor, with a request to be sold.  His master was greatly incensed at what he called his insolence.  He said he had put him there, to reflect upon his bad conduct, and he certainly was not giving any evidence of repentance.  For two days he harassed himself to find somebody to do his office work; but every thing went wrong without William.  He was released, and ordered to take his old stand, with many threats, if he was not careful about his future behavior.