A slave girl's secret writings on the eve of the Civil War reveal that hope and strength can prevail even in the face of unspeakable hardship.

		Wednesday, November 23, 1864 Freedom is one of the first words I teached myself to write. Down in the Quarters people pray for freedom — they sing 'bout freedom, but to keep Mas' Henley from knowin' their true feelings, they call freedom "heaven." Everybody's mind is on freedom. But it is a word that aine never showed me no picture. While fannin' this afternoon, my eyes fell on "freedom" in a book William was readin'. No wonder I don't see nothin'. I been spellin' it F-R-E-D-U-M. I put the right letters in my head to make sure I remembered their place. F-R-E-E-D-O-M. I just now wrote it. Still no picture...