As my father was a rich man, who indulged me in many ways and appeared to love me, and as I often had occasion to accompany him and Mrs. Jackson, or some of the other members of the family, to Louisville, he seldom refused to give me the cash I asked for, which I now began to carefully put away in a secret place only known to the Lord and myself. Two eventful years had passed away. I had by this time discovered the whereabouts of my mother, Harriet, in New Orleans, and my hopes of meeting her again grew stronger every day as the time approached for me to kick off the detested chains of slavery. For the coming of this happy deliverance I prayed to my good Lord both day and night. At last that day dawned upon me, the spring-time of all my joys. The Lord heard my prayers, and He cleared the way to freedom. There was to be a big church gathering at Louisville, and the first session of that great time was to be on Wednesday morning—the first Wednesday in the month, as I very well remember, indeed. The bishop and his wife, who were invited guests to our house, had arrived the day before. They were to spend the night with us, and all things breathed religion and excitement over the events of the morrow and the rest of the week to come. Among the inmates of the house was one Tom, whom I was accustomed to call, Tom Lincoln—a tall, splendid young man, a shade darker in complexion than myself, and, like myself, a slave. Tom was now twenty-seven years old. He had been casting "sheep’s eyes" at me for several years past, but who could think of marriage whilst in a state of slavery? Therefore I gave him no encouragement, but as he was thoroughly reliable, I said to him one day in strict confidence, and in the most significant manner possible, "I will talk to you about that when we are free. While in a state of slavery it is a mockery to profane the names of love, courtship and marriage. I will never, so help me God, be married in the house of bondage!" Tom Lincoln was a clever fellow, a general factotum, and acquainted with everything about the house. He was always relied on, and the great house, as it was called, would be left in his charge while the family and the upper servants attended the gathering at Louisville. Soon after the bishop and his wife arrived, I called Tom aside and laid before him my whole plan, which had been well formed for some time past in my mind. "Capital!" said he, slapping his knee with his big hand. "Capital, indeed! Strike when the iron is hot, and kill chickens when they are fat! But, Beulah, will you marry me then?" "Yes, with pleasure, when we are free from the chains of slavery." When I gave Tom that answer his eyes flashed bright as the stars on a frosty night, and mine, no doubt, flashed back in a reflected lustre.