you are manacled and carried off by the
slave-trader. Never again will Amy's gentle eyes look into yours.
What she suffers you will never know. She is suddenly wrenched from
your youth, as your mother was from your childhood. The pall of
silence falls over all her future. She cannot read or write; and the
post-office was not instituted for slaves.

Looking back on that dark period of desolation and despair, you
marvel how you lived through it. But the nature of youth is elastic.
You have learned that law offers colored men nothing but its
_penalties_; that white men engross all its _protection_; still you
are tempted to make another bargain for your freedom. Your new
master seems easy and good-natured, and you trust he will prove more
honorable than your brother has been. Perhaps he would; but
unfortunately, he is fond of cards; and when you have paid him two
hundred dollars, he stakes them, and you also, at the gaming-table,
and loses. The winner is a hard man, noted for severity to his
slaves. Now you resolve to take the risk of running away, with all
its horrible chances. You hide in a neighboring swamp, where you are
bitten by a venomous snake, and your swollen limb becomes almost
incapable of motion. In great anguish, you drag it along, through
the midnight darkness, to the hut of a poor plantation-slave, who
binds on a poultice of ashes, but dares not, for fear of his life,
shelter you after day has dawned. He helps you to a deep gully, and
there you remain till evening, half-famished for food. A man in the
neighborhood keeps blood-hounds, well trained to hunt runaways. They
get on your track, and tear flesh from the leg which the snake had
spared. To escape them, you leap into the river. The sharp ring of
rifles meets your ear. You plunge under water. When you come up to
take breath, a rifle ball lodges in your shoulder and you plunge
again. Suddenly, thick clouds throw their friendly veil over the
moon. You swim for your life, with balls whizzing round you. Thanks
to the darkness and the water, you baffle the hounds, both animal
and human. Weary and wounded, you travel through the forests, your
eye fixed hopefully on the North Star, which seems ever beckoning
you onward to freedom, with its bright glances through the foliage.
In the day-time, you lie in the deep holes of swamps, concealed by
rank weeds and tangled vines, taking such rest as can be obtained
among swarms of mosquitoes and snakes. Through incredib