ad us placed upon the auction stand and sold
to the highest bidder.

My poor sister was sold first: she was knocked down to a planter who
resided at some distance in the country. Then I was called upon the
stand. While the auctioneer was crying the bids, I saw the man that
had purchased my sister getting her into a cart, to take her to his
home. I at once asked a slave friend who was standing near the
platform, to run and ask the gentleman if he would please to wait till
I was sold, in order that I might have an opportunity of bidding her
good-bye. He sent me word back that he had some distance to go, and
could not wait.

I then turned to the auctioneer, fell upon my knees, and humbly prayed
him to let me just step down and bid my last sister farewell. But,
instead of granting me this request, he grasped me by the neck, and in
a commanding tone of voice, and with a violent oath, exclaimed, "Get
up! You can do the wench no good; therefore there is no use in your
seeing her."

On rising, I saw the cart in which she sat moving slowly off; and, as
she clasped her hands with a grasp that indicated despair, and looked
pitifully round towards me, I also saw the large silent tears trickling
down her cheeks. She made a farewell bow, and buried her face in her
lap. This seemed more than I could bear. It appeared to swell my
aching heart to its utmost. But before I could fairly recover, the
poor girl was gone;--gone, and I have never had the good fortune to see
her from that day to this! Perhaps I should have never heard of her
again, had it not been for the untiring efforts of my good old mother,
who became free a few years ago by purchase, and, after a great deal of
difficulty, found my sister residing with a family in Mississippi. My
mother at once wrote to me, informing me of the fact, and requesting me
to do something to get her free; and I am happy to say that, partly by
lecturing occasionally, and through the sale of an engraving of my wife
in the disguise in which she escaped, together with the extreme
kindness and generosity of Miss Burdett Coutts, Mr. George Richardson
of Plymouth, and a few other friends, I have nearly accomplished this.
It would be to me a great and ever-glorious achievement to restore my
sister to our dear mother, from whom she was forcibly driven in early
life.

I was knocked down to the cashier of the bank to which we were
mortgaged, and ordered to return to the cabinet shop where I