Free SAT Exam Braindumps (page: 18)

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“Old woman,” grumbled the burly white man who had just heard Sojourner Truth speak, “do you think your talk about slavery does any good? I don't care any more for your talk than I do for the bite of a flea.” The tall, imposing black woman turned her piercing eyes on him. “Perhaps not,” she answered, “but I'll keep you scratching.” The little incident of the 1840s sums up all that Sojourner Truth was: utterly dedicated to spreading her message, afraid of no one, forceful and witty in speech. Yet forty years earlier, who could have suspected that a spindly slave girl growing up in a damp cellar in upstate New York would become one of the most remarkable women in American history? Her name then was Isabella (many slaves had no last names), and by the time she was fourteen she had seen both parents die of cold and hunger. She herself had been sold several times. By 1827, when New York freed its slaves, she had married and borne five children. The first hint of Isabella's fighting spirit came soon afterwards, when her youngest son was illegally seized and sold. She marched to the courthouse and badgered officials until her son was returned to her. In 1843, inspired by religion, she changed her name to Sojourner(meaning “one who stays briefly”) Truth, and, with only pennies in her purse, set out to preach against slavery. From New England to Minnesota she trekked, gaining a reputation for her plain but powerful and moving words. Incredibly, despite being black and female (only white males were expected to be public speakers), she drew thousands to town halls, tents, and churches to hear her powerful, deep-voiced pleas on equality for blacks-and for women. Often she had to face threatening hoodlums. Once she stood before armed bullies and sang a hymn to them. Awed by her courage and her commanding presence, they sheepishly retreated. During the Civil War she cared for homeless ex-slaves in Washington. President Lincoln invited her to the White House to bestow praise on her. Later, she petitioned Congress to help former slaves get land in the West. Even in her old age, she forced the city of Washington to integrate its trolley cars so that black and white could ride together. Shortly before her death at eighty-six, she was asked what kept her going. “I think of the great things,” replied Sojourner.

Details:
“Old woman,” grumbled the burly white man who had just heard Sojourner Truth speak, “do you think your talk about slavery does any good? I don't care any more for your talk than I do for the bite of a flea.” The tall, imposing black woman turned her piercing eyes on him. “Perhaps not,” she answered, “but I'll keep you scratching.” The little incident of the 1840s sums up all that Sojourner Truth was: utterly dedicated to spreading her message, afraid of no one, forceful and witty in speech. Yet forty years earlier, who could have suspected that a spindly slave girl growing up in a damp cellar in upstate New York would become one of the most remarkable women in American history? Her name then was Isabella (many slaves had no last names), and by the time she was fourteen she had seen both parents die of cold and hunger. She herself had been sold several times. By 1827, when New York freed its slaves, she had married and borne five children. The first hint of Isabella's fighting spirit came soon afterwards, when her youngest son was illegally seized and sold. She marched to the courthouse and badgered officials until her son was returned to her. In 1843, inspired by religion, she changed her name to Sojourner(meaning “one who stays briefly”) Truth, and, with only pennies in her purse, set out to preach against slavery. From New England to Minnesota she trekked, gaining a reputation for her plain but powerful and moving words. Incredibly, despite being black and female (only white males were expected to be public speakers), she drew thousands to town halls, tents, and churches to hear her powerful, deep-voiced pleas on equality for blacks-and for women. Often she had to face threatening hoodlums. Once she stood before armed bullies and sang a hymn to them. Awed by her courage and her commanding presence, they sheepishly retreated. During the Civil War she cared for homeless ex-slaves in Washington. President Lincoln invited her to the White House to bestow praise on her. Later, she petitioned Congress to help former slaves get land in the West. Even in her old age, she forced the city of Washington to integrate its trolley cars so that black and white could ride together. Shortly before her death at eighty-six, she was asked what kept her going. “I think of the great things,” replied Sojourner.

Details:
“Old woman,” grumbled the burly white man who had just heard Sojourner Truth speak, “do you think your talk about slavery does any good? I don't care any more for your talk than I do for the bite of a flea.” The tall, imposing black woman turned her piercing eyes on him. “Perhaps not,” she answered, “but I'll keep you scratching.” The little incident of the 1840s sums up all that Sojourner Truth was: utterly dedicated to spreading her message, afraid of no one, forceful and witty in speech. Yet forty years earlier, who could have suspected that a spindly slave girl growing up in a damp cellar in upstate New York would become one of the most remarkable women in American history? Her name then was Isabella (many slaves had no last names), and by the time she was fourteen she had seen both parents die of cold and hunger. She herself had been sold several times. By 1827, when New York freed its slaves, she had married and borne five children. The first hint of Isabella's fighting spirit came soon afterwards, when her youngest son was illegally seized and sold. She marched to the courthouse and badgered officials until her son was returned to her. In 1843, inspired by religion, she changed her name to Sojourner(meaning “one who stays briefly”) Truth, and, with only pennies in her purse, set out to preach against slavery. From New England to Minnesota she trekked, gaining a reputation for her plain but powerful and moving words. Incredibly, despite being black and female (only white males were expected to be public speakers), she drew thousands to town halls, tents, and churches to hear her powerful, deep-voiced pleas on equality for blacks-and for women. Often she had to face threatening hoodlums. Once she stood before armed bullies and sang a hymn to them. Awed by her courage and her commanding presence, they sheepishly retreated. During the Civil War she cared for homeless ex-slaves in Washington. President Lincoln invited her to the White House to bestow praise on her. Later, she petitioned Congress to help former slaves get land in the West. Even in her old age, she forced the city of Washington to integrate its trolley cars so that black and white could ride together. Shortly before her death at eighty-six, she was asked what kept her going. “I think of the great things,” replied Sojourner.

Details:
“Old woman,” grumbled the burly white man who had just heard Sojourner Truth speak, “do you think your talk about slavery does any good? I don't care any more for your talk than I do for the bite of a flea.” The tall, imposing black woman turned her piercing eyes on him. “Perhaps not,” she answered, “but I'll keep you scratching.” The little incident of the 1840s sums up all that Sojourner Truth was: utterly dedicated to spreading her message, afraid of no one, forceful and witty in speech. Yet forty years earlier, who could have suspected that a spindly slave girl growing up in a damp cellar in upstate New York would become one of the most remarkable women in American history? Her name then was Isabella (many slaves had no last names), and by the time she was fourteen she had seen both parents die of cold and hunger. She herself had been sold several times. By 1827, when New York freed its slaves, she had married and borne five children. The first hint of Isabella's fighting spirit came soon afterwards, when her youngest son was illegally seized and sold. She marched to the courthouse and badgered officials until her son was returned to her. In 1843, inspired by religion, she changed her name to Sojourner(meaning “one who stays briefly”) Truth, and, with only pennies in her purse, set out to preach against slavery. From New England to Minnesota she trekked, gaining a reputation for her plain but powerful and moving words. Incredibly, despite being black and female (only white males were expected to be public speakers), she drew thousands to town halls, tents, and churches to hear her powerful, deep-voiced pleas on equality for blacks-and for women. Often she had to face threatening hoodlums. Once she stood before armed bullies and sang a hymn to them. Awed by her courage and her commanding presence, they sheepishly retreated. During the Civil War she cared for homeless ex-slaves in Washington. President Lincoln invited her to the White House to bestow praise on her. Later, she petitioned Congress to help former slaves get land in the West. Even in her old age, she forced the city of Washington to integrate its trolley cars so that black and white could ride together. Shortly before her death at eighty-six, she was asked what kept her going. “I think of the great things,” replied Sojourner.