“When I was fifteen I met a young man from the North. It was quite an accidental meeting, but it was not an accident that I loved him, nor that he worshiped me. He came to our plantation to buy some horses for his stables in Chicago; he was honorable enough to ask my father for my hand in marriage, whereupon my father flew into a rage, told him that his business there was buying horses and not putting foolish notions into a young girl’s head. The scene was a stormy one and closed by the young man being ordered to leave. He left that night and took me with him. We crossed the river into Indiana and tried to get married, but on account of my extreme youthful appearance we were unable to obtain the license. We traveled on to Cincinnati, failure again confronted us. Just as we were in the act of boarding a train for Chicago an officer arrested us. I was taken back to my home, while my lover was placed in jail on the charge of abduction. A taste of the things in the outer world only made the fancies in my childish brain grow. I soon found myself planning how I could leave my father’s home and secure freedom for the only man I loved. I begged and pleaded with my father, but to no avail; finally he informed me that he would horsewhip me and lock me up if I ever mentioned the matter again. This was too much; all the pride within me bounded to the surface, my hot Southern blood tingled, my cheeks flamed in anger. It was then that I missed my mother more than any time in my life, the thought of her put a new idea into my disturbed brain. I would go to the spot where she was laid to rest, there to find relief in the desolation of the grave. “It seems as but yesterday that I strolled down the lane, across the meadow, and entered the little enclosure that had been set apart for a final resting place for the members of our little family, the ripened blue grass waved gently at the bidding of the gentle breeze, the full, warm October sun shed its beauteous rays of light upon the great spreading trees, the birds seemed to be chanting their last song of summer, the red and brown leaves lay scattered on the hillside, making a scene of gorgeous splendor in the bright sunlight. Drooping flowers showed signs of the first frost, chattering squirrels scurrying hither and thither, gathering the winter’s store of food, added to the fullness of nature.