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18 Behind the Scenes.
pleasant and others sad; and when I thus greet
old familiar faces, I often find myself wondering if I am not living the past over again. The
visions are so terribly distinct that I almost
imagine them to be real. Hour after hour
I sit while the scenes are being shifted; and
as I gaze upon the panorama of the past, I
realize how crowded with incidents my life
has been. Every day seems like a romance
within itself, and the years grow into ponderous volumes. As I cannot condense, I must
omit many strange passages in my history.
Prom such a wilderness of events it is difficult
to make a selection, but as I am not writing
altogether the history of myself, I will confine
my story to the most important incidents which
I believe influenced the moulding of my character. As I glance over the crowded sea of
the past, these incidents stand forth prominently, the guide-posts of memory. I presume
that I must have been four years old when I
| Title | Behind the scenes, or, Thirty years a slave and four years in the White House |
| Creator | Keckley, Elizabeth |
| Publisher | G.W. Carleton & Co. |
| Place of Publication | New York |
| Date | 1868 |
| Language | eng |
| Type | Books/Pamphlets |
| Title | 00000023 |
| Type | Books/Pamphlets |
| Transcript | 18 Behind the Scenes. pleasant and others sad; and when I thus greet old familiar faces, I often find myself wondering if I am not living the past over again. The visions are so terribly distinct that I almost imagine them to be real. Hour after hour I sit while the scenes are being shifted; and as I gaze upon the panorama of the past, I realize how crowded with incidents my life has been. Every day seems like a romance within itself, and the years grow into ponderous volumes. As I cannot condense, I must omit many strange passages in my history. Prom such a wilderness of events it is difficult to make a selection, but as I am not writing altogether the history of myself, I will confine my story to the most important incidents which I believe influenced the moulding of my character. As I glance over the crowded sea of the past, these incidents stand forth prominently, the guide-posts of memory. I presume that I must have been four years old when I |
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