ded end of the journey. I found
myself in the midst of a group of children of many colors; black,
brown, copper colored, and nearly white. I had not seen so many children
before. Great houses loomed up in different directions, and a great many
men and women were at work in the fields. All this hurry, noise, and
singing was very different from the stillness of Tuckahoe. As a new
comer, I was an object of special interest; and, after laughing and
yelling around me, and playing all sorts of wild tricks, they (the
children) asked me to go out and play with them. This I refused to do,
preferring to stay with grandmamma. I could not help feeling that our
being there boded no good to me. Grandmamma looked sad. She was soon to
lose another object of affection, as she had lost many before. I knew
she was unhappy, and the shadow fell from her brow on me, though I knew
not the cause.

All suspense, however, must have an end; and the end of mine, in this
instance, was at hand. Affectionately patting me on the head, and
exhorting me to be a good boy, grandmamma told me to go and play with
the little children. "They are kin to you," said she; "go and play with
them." Among a number of cousins were Phil, Tom, Steve, and Jerry, Nance
and Betty.

Grandmother pointed out my brother PERRY, my sister SARAH, and my sister
ELIZA, who stood in the group. I had never seen{37 BROTHERS AND SISTERS}
my brother nor my sisters before; and, though I had sometimes heard of
them, and felt a curious interest in them, I really did not understand
what they were to me, or I to them. We were brothers and sisters, but
what of that? Why should they be attached to me, or I to them? Brothers
and sisters we were by blood; but _slavery_ had made us strangers. I
heard the words brother and sisters, and knew they must mean something;
but slavery had robbed these terms of their true meaning. The experience
through which I was passing, they had passed through before. They had
already been initiated into the mysteries of old master's domicile, and
they seemed to look upon me with a certain degree of compassion; but my
heart clave to my grandmother. Think it not strange, dear reader, that
so little sympathy of feeling existed between us. The conditions of
brotherly and sisterly feeling were wanting--we had never nestled and
played together. My poor mother, like many other slave-women, had many
_children_, but NO FAMILY! The domestic hearth, with its holy lessons
and