to play to him, to waltz with him, and sing to him; but everything I did for this one was a perfect drag,—­yet I was afraid to refuse anything.  He was very imperious, and harsh to the children.  Elise was a timid little thing; but Henry was bold and high-spirited, like his father, and he had never been brought under, in the least, by any one.  He was always finding fault, and quarrelling with him; and I used to live in daily fear and dread.  I tried to make the child respectful;—­I tried to keep them apart, for I held on to those children like death; but it did no good. He sold both those children.  He took me to ride, one day, and when I came home, they were nowhere to be found!  He told me he had sold them; he showed me the money, the price of their blood.  Then it seemed as if all good forsook me.  I raved and cursed,—­cursed God and man; and, for a while, I believe, he really was afraid of me.  But he didn’t give up so.  He told me that my children were sold, but whether I ever saw their faces again, depended on him; and that, if I wasn’t quiet, they should smart for it.  Well, you can do anything with a woman, when you’ve got her children.  He made me submit; he made me be peaceable; he flattered me with hopes that, perhaps, he would buy them back; and so things went on, a week or two.  One day, I was out walking, and passed by the calaboose; I saw a crowd about the gate, and heard a child’s voice,—­and suddenly my Henry broke away from two or three men who were holding the poor boy screamed and looked into my face, and held on to me, until, in tearing him off, they tore the skirt of my dress half away; and they carried him in, screaming ’Mother! mother! mother!’ There was one man stood there seemed to pity me.  I offered him all the money I had, if he’d only interfere.  He shook his head, and said that the boy had been impudent and disobedient, ever since he bought him; that he was going to break him in, once for all.  I turned and ran; and every step of the way, I thought that I heard him scream.  I got into the house; ran, all out of breath, to the parlor, where I found Butler.  I told him, and begged him to go and interfere.  He only laughed, and told me the boy had got his deserts.  He’d got to be broken in,—­the sooner the better; ‘what did I expect?’ he asked.

“It seemed to me something in my head snapped, at that moment.  I felt dizzy and furious.  I remember seeing a great sharp bowie-knife on the table; I remember something about catching it, and flying upon him; and then all grew dark, and I didn’t know any more,—­not for days and days.

“When I came to myself, I was in a nice room,—­but not mine.  An old black woman tended me; and a doctor came to see me, and there was a great deal of care taken of me.  After a while, I found that he had gone away, and left me at this house to be sold; and that’s why they took such pains with me.