d like to own you myself. Them
gentlemen that wanted to buy you said you was a bright, honest chap, and I
must git you a good home. I guess your old master will swear to-morrow, and
call himself an old fool for selling the children. I reckon he'll never git
their mammy back again. I expect she's made tracks for the north. Good by,
old boy. Remember, I have done you a good turn. You must thank me by
coaxing all the pretty gals to go with me next fall. That's going to be my
last trip. This trading in niggers is a bad business for a fellow that's
got any heart. Move on, you fellows!" And the gang went on, God alone knows
where.

Much as I despise and detest the class of slave-traders, whom I regard as
the vilest wretches on earth, I must do this man the justice to say that he
seemed to have some feeling. He took a fancy to William in the jail, and
wanted to buy him. When he heard the story of my children, he was willing
to aid them in getting out of Dr. Flint's power, even without charging the
customary fee.

My uncle procured a wagon and carried William and the children back to
town. Great was the joy in my grandmother's house! The curtains were
closed, and the candles lighted. The happy grandmother cuddled the little
ones to her bosom. They hugged her, and kissed her, and clapped their
hands, and shouted. She knelt down and poured forth one of her heartfelt
prayers of thanksgiving to God. The father was present for a while; and
though such a "parental relation" as existed between him and my children
takes slight hold on the hearts or consciences of slaveholders, it must be
that he experienced some moments of pure joy in witnessing the happiness he
had imparted.

I had no share in the rejoicings of that evening. The events of the day had
not come to my knowledge. And now I will tell you something that happened
to me; though you will, perhaps, think it illustrates the superstition of
slaves. I sat in my usual place on the floor near the window, where I could
hear much that was said in the street without being seen. The family had
retired for the night, and all was still. I sat there thinking of my
children, when I heard a low strain of music. A band of serenaders were
under the window, playing "Home, sweet home." I listened till the sounds
did not seem like music, but like the moaning of children. It seemed as if
my heart would burst. I rose from my sitting posture, and knelt. A streak
of moonlight was on the floor befor