When the book was finished, Sarah was most anxious to get it published, “in order,” she writes, “to revive the memory in this country of the extraordinary woman who was an embodiment of faith, courage, fortitude, and love rarely equalled and never excelled.”

But she had many more pressing demands on her income at that time, and had nearly given up the project, when a gentleman from Lynn called to see her, to whom she read a few pages of the narrative.  He was so much pleased with it that he undertook to have it published.  It was brought out in a few weeks by Adams & Co., of Boston, in a prettily bound volume of one hundred and six pages, and had, I believe, a large sale.  Several long and many short notices of it appeared in papers all over the country, all highly complimentary to the venerable translator.  These notices surprised Sarah as much as they delighted her, and she expressed herself as deeply thankful that she had translated the work.

A letter from Sarah Grimke to Jane Smith, written in 1850, contains the following paragraph:  “We have just heard of the death of our brother Henry, a planter and a kind master.  His slaves will feel his loss deeply.  They haunt me day and night.  Sleeplessness is my portion, thinking what will become of them.  Oh, the horrors of slavery!”

When she penned those lines, Sarah little imagined how great a mockery was the title, “kind master,” she gave her brother.  She little suspected that three of those slaves whose uncertain destiny haunted her pillow were that brother’s own children, and that he died leaving the shackles on them—­slaves to his heir, their white brother, though he did stipulate that they and their mother should never be sold.  Well might Sarah exclaim:  “Oh, the horrors of slavery!” but in deepest humiliation and anguish of spirit would the words have been uttered had she known the truth.  Montague Grimke inherited his brothers with the rest of the human chattels.  He knew they were his brothers, and he never thought of freeing them.  They were his to use and to abuse,—­to treat them kindly if it suited his mood; to whip them if he fancied; to sell them if he should happen to need money,—­and they could not raise voice or hand to prevent it.  There was no law to which they could appeal, no refuge they could seek from the very worst with which their brother might threaten them.  Was ever any creature—­brute or human—­in the wide world so defenceless as the plantation slave!  The forlorn case of these Grimke boys was that of thousands of others born as they were, and inheriting the intelligence and spirit of independence of their white parent.