"There's my baby!" I cried, quite carried away, "There's my poochiekins!" ... "Sadie," My dad said firmly, "Please do not refer to the devourer of souls as 'poochiekins'."

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I grew up like a neglected weed, ignorant of liberty, having no experience of it. Then I was not happy or contented: every time I saw a white man I was afraid of being carried away.

— Harriet Tubman