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In the Shenandoah Valley, near the Bine Ridge, two slaves, a man and his wife, sat talking late in the evening. They were in trouble, and knew not what to do, and there was not a being on earth to whom they dared to apply for counsel. Both wept and both offered a silent prayer to Him whose ear is ever open to the cry of the poor. Finally the man aroused himself and spoke in low, earnest tones. He said, “Rosa, we must go; I can’t bear to see you sold and drove like a beast, in a coffle to the rice swamps of Georgia, to say nothing of myself.” She answered, “It can’t be possible that master has sold us; we have served him so faithfully for thirty years and always obeyed him. Oh dear, Joe, what shall we do. They will catch us and whip us almost to death, and then we shall be separated never to see each other again. It may be we’re not sold, and if we run off he’ll sell us sure.” Joe answered, “He sold us to-day; I heard him read the names of ten of us, to the trader that has been about here three or four days, and our names were first. Yes, Rosa, we must go. If they catch us it can be no worse. The whipping will not be half as hard to bear as the thought that we never tried to be free, and if we die as Sally did when they caught her and whipped