As we were informed they had no plums for sale, Mary proposed filling our "buckets" with blackberries, as there were an abundance within a short distance, and asked Jane if she or Nan could not go and show us the way. "I'll go an' ask Missus Agnes," replied Nan, who soon returned with the word that Jane might go, as she wanted to make another batch of jam. "But she says we must get dinner for Mary and her aunt first." A small tablecloth was placed over one end of the table, and wheat bread, butter, honey, and a cream-pitcher of sweet milk was brought down for us. Not a child of the nine little ones playing in the kitchen asked for a taste of anything during or after our meal. All that was left was taken up stairs, and we were invited to call on Mrs. Agnes, who received us cordially. She was teaching Jane's oldest daughter, of seven years, to sew. After a few minutes chat with the mistress, we left for blackberries. When out of sight, I told Jane I was the one who wrote a letter for her husband, Felix White, to her, and directed it to Samuel Barkshire, who told me he read it to her, but did not dare take it from his house, but took the braid of his hair tied with blue ribbon, sent in the letter. She looked at me in amazement for a moment, when she burst into a flood of tears. As soon as she could command her feelings she said her master had told her that he had heard from Felix, and that he was married again, and was riding around with his new wife mighty happy. When I gave her the errand from her husband she was again convulsed with weeping. Said she, "I would gladly work day and night, until my fingers and toes are without a nail, and willingly see my children work in the same way, could we only be with Felix." Poor heartbroken woman, she sighed like a sobbing child. But two of her children were out a few miles with one of the Stevens married children, to be gone two months, and she sent a request to her husband to come on the sly to assist in bringing their children away after the return of the absent ones, so that all might go together. I assisted her in picking berries, as she had spent so much of her time in talking and weeping her mistress might complain. I gave her a little memento from her husband, and left the poor heartstricken, crushed spirit. The daughter and grandchildren of the master withheld them from going to their natural protector, yet he was called one of the best of slave-holders. Here was a woman and sister whose widowhood was more desolate than even death had made my own. And her poor children were worse than fatherless. I returned to my home and anxious children and friends.