From The Lost Notebook of Mary Day Brown August, 1833, and: Lost Letter , Mary Day Brown to Francis Harper, Elba, New York, Winter, 1850 | From The Lost Notebook of Mary Day Brown, Elba, New York, late evening, December 6, 1859

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From The Lost Notebook of Mary Day Brown August, 1833, and: Lost Letter, Mary Day Brown to Francis Harper, Elba, New York, Winter, 1850 | From The Lost Notebook of Mary Day Brown, Elba, New York, late evening, December 6, 1859 Veronica Golos (bio) From The Lost Notebook of Mary Day Brown August, 1833 Each evening he schools meafter supper is done& before the lamp burns low— We have the slate and coalto mark the lines &together we copy the words of God. We print each letter careful:thou shalt not deliver unto his masterthe servant which is escaped from his master unto thee:he shall dwell with thee, evenamong you. I am newly married &in this learning I feela liking. Words open upas if I have washed my faceafter a long day of hard work. This—even more than whatcomes later—brings to merespect of John Brown. [End Page 27] Lost Letter, Mary Day Brown to Francis Harper, Elba, New York, Winter, 1850 Dear Mrs. Harper, Thank you for your dollar.We were at our last loaf.It is so cold—the ground is iron& I must ask favorof the men to axe the wood. In your letter, you inquire as towhat I believe. You are the first to ask. I hear those of good heart& I believe they are,tell us beneath our skinwe are but the same. It may bepolite of Mr. Garrison to say it so— I do not know. In this CauseI have become harsh. The same?How may that be? The Slaverswin their Fugitive law—while we hide those who fleeits mandate. Before my meager fire,runaways show me their scars.A hundred miles & more they walk,in cold and in heat. I have seen a man’s toes gone from frostbite;& yet he walked. They will [End Page 28] go to Freedom whatever thecost. Who could deny this?What we bear, what we have known,that makes us, does it not? I wish for myself to carry a Black heart:to see as those whobear this Slavery do—not out of Pity—but Trust—I believe they see this country True. Yours, Mary Day Brown From The Lost Notebook of Mary Day Brown, Elba, New York, late evening, December 6, 1859 (5 days after the hanging of my husband John Brown.) This morning they began to arrive. First onein a small wagon, his young sonbeside him. Then an entirefamily, three children, fathermother, grandmother.Even some we hadhelped on to Canada. I stoodin my doorway, as the tract around the housefilled with horses, wagons, those whohad walked. Mr. Epps was nearby,Mr. Riddick, silent as always. I will not weep. [End Page 29] All day, the crowd grew, many wearing black armbands,mostly the negroes & there werehundreds—& a numberof whites as well. There was little talk. Whispersas someone moved to make room.Dusk settled upon us; campfires flared—huge stars, the grounda hard sky. Somewhere, someonebegan to sing: My Lord what a MorningMy Lord What a MorningOh My Lord, what a Morningwhen the stars begin to fall. People stood, swaying, firelight flickering.It was a song well known,their voices came together, a keening sound.A sole harmonica,far back in the crowd. I could hear the horses snorting,the rustle of animals in the woods.The words, no, the feeling inside the words, for him, mademe tremble. I had to sit. His chair,where he liked to restas the sun went down. [End Page 30] Veronica Golos Veronica Golos is the author of A Bell Buried Deep and Vocabulary of Silence. In her manuscript ‘‘Root Work’’ she reexamines abolitionist John Brown and his wife, Mary Day Brown, about whom so little is known. Golos uses these poems to examine slavery, race, class, and gender in the imagined voices of the Browns. Copyright © 2014 University of Nebraska Press