"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[3] negroes, who with their freedom received from their master a large section 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 hers and sent them to Liberia; but she told me the other day that 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." [3] John Randolph of Roanoke. So it seemed our way was surrounded by walls of circumstances too thick and solid to be pulled down, and we said no more. Some weeks after this conversation we had a visit from a friend--Dr. Bagby--who, having lived in New York, and hearing us express a wish to live there, said: "What! exchange a home in old Virginia for one on Fifth Avenue? You don't know what you are talking about! It is not even called 'home' there, but '_house_,' where they turn into bed at midnight, eat stale-bread breakfasts, have brilliant parties--where several hundred people meet who don't care anything about each other. They have no soul life, but shut themselves up in themselves, live for themselves, and never have any social enjoyment like ours." "But," we said, "could not our friends come to see us there as well as anywhere else?" "No, indeed!" he answered. "Your hearts would soon be as cold and dead as a marble door-front. You wouldn't want to see anybody, and nobody would want to see you." "You are complimentary, certainly!" "I know all about it; and"--he continued--"I know you could not find on Fifth Avenue such women as your mother and grandmother, who never think of themselves, but are constantly planning and providing for others, making their homes comfortable and pleasant, and attending to the wants and welfare of so many negroes. And that is what the women all over the South are doing, and what the New York women cannot comprehend. How can anybody know, except ourselves, the personal sacrifices of our women?" "Well," said my sister, "you need not be so severe and eloquent because we thought we should like to live in New York! If we should sell all we possess, we could never afford to live there. Besides, you know our mother would as soon think of selling her children as her servants."