y
light complexion my being dressed up in Garrison's old slave trading
clothes might have caused the man to think that I was a slave trader,
and she was afraid that we should yet be separated if I should not
succeed in finding some body to buy us.

Every day to us was a day of trouble, and every night brought new and
fearful apprehensions that the golden link which binds together
husband and wife might be broken by the heartless tyrant before the
light of another day.

Deep has been the anguish of my soul when looking over my little
family during the silent hours of the night, knowing the great danger
of our being sold off at auction the next day and parted forever. That
this might not come to pass, many have been the tears and prayers
which I have offered up to the God of Israel that we might be
preserved.

While waiting here to be disposed of, I heard of one Francis
Whitfield, a cotton planter, who wanted to buy slaves. He was
represented to be a very pious soul, being a deacon of a Baptist
church. As the regulations, as well as public opinion generally, were
against slaves meeting for religious worship, I thought it would give
me a better opportunity to attend to my religious duties should I fall
into the hands of this deacon.

So I called on him and tried to show to the best advantage, for the
purpose of inducing him to buy me and my family. When I approached
him, I felt much pleased at his external appearance--I addressed him
in the following words as well as I can remember:

"Sir, I understand you are desirous of purchasing slaves?"

With a very pleasant smile, he replied, "Yes, I do want to buy some,
are you for sale?"

"Yes sir, with my wife and one child."

Garrison had given me a note to show wherever I went, that I was for
sale, speaking of my wife and child, giving us a very good character
of course--and I handed him the note.

After reading it over he remarked, "I have a few questions to ask you,
and if you will tell me the truth like a good boy, perhaps I may buy
you with your family. In the first place, my boy, you are a little too
near white. I want you to tell me now whether you can read or write?"

My reply was in the negative.

"Now I want you to tell me whether you have run away? Don't tell me no
stories now, like a good fellow, and perhaps I may buy you."

But as I was not under oath to tell him the whole truth, I only gave
him a part of it, by telling him that I had run away once.