Here the old mother of States settled herself back in her chair, a smile of satisfaction resting on her face, and she ceased to think of change.
Telling our mother of all the wonders and pleasures of New York, she said:
“You were so delighted, I expect you would like to sell out everything here and move there!”
“It would be delightful!” we exclaimed.
“But you would miss many pleasures you have in our present home.”
“We would have no time to miss anything,” said my sister, “in that whirl of excitement!”
“But,” she continued. “I believe one might as well try to move the Rocky Mountains to Fifth Avenue, as an old Virginian! They have such a horror of selling out and moving.”
“It is not so easy to sell out and move,” replied our mother, “when you remember all the negroes we have to take care of and support.”
“Yes, the negroes,” we said, “are the weight continually pulling us down! Will the time ever come for us to be free of them?”
“They were placed here,” replied our mother, “by God, for us to take care of, and it does not seem that we can change it. When we emancipate them, it does not better their condition. Those left free and with good farms given them by their masters, soon sink into poverty and wretchedness, and become a nuisance to the community. We see how miserable are Mr. Randolph’s[2] negroes, who with their freedom received from their master a large body of the best land in Prince Edward county. My own grandfather also emancipated a large number, having first had them taught lucrative trades that they might support themselves, and giving them money and land. But they were not prosperous or happy. We have also tried sending them to Liberia. You know my old friend, Mrs. L——, emancipated all her’s and sent them to Liberia, but she told me the other day she was convinced it had been no kindness to them, for she continually receives letters begging assistance, and yearly supplies them with clothes and money.”