Utorak, Februar 01, 2011

from the city,

from the city, where the captain and his boat await them. No time is lost in embarking the little bark rides at anchor in the stream the boat quietly glides to her they are safely on board. A few minutes more, and the little craft moves seaward under the pressure of a gentle breeze. There is no tragic pursuit of slavehunters, no tramp of horses to terrify the bleeding victim, no howlings of ravenous bloodhounds,nothing that would seem to make the issue freedom or death. No. All is as still as a midsummer night in the same clime. The womanthis daughter of slaverys vicescherishes a

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