Our Nig; Or, Sketches from the Life of a Free Black, in a Two-story White House, North / Showing That Slavery's Shadows Fall Even There Harriet E. Wil

CHAPTER I.MAG SMITH, MY MOTHER. Oh, Grief beyond all other griefs, when fate First leaves the young heart lone and desolate In the wide world, without that only tie For which it loved to live or feared to die; Lorn as the hung-up lute, that ne'er hath spoken Since the sad day its master-chord was broken!