I cautioned him not to let it be known to the family that I had just arrived from the south, because they supposed I had been at the north seven years.  He told me there was a colored woman in Brooklyn who came from the same town I did, and I had better go to her house, and have my daughter meet me there.  I accepted the proposition thankfully, and he agreed to escort me to Brooklyn.  We crossed Fulton ferry, went up Myrtle Avenue, and stopped at the house he designated.  I was just about to enter, when two girls passed.  My friend called my attention to them.  I turned, and recognized in the eldest, Sarah, the daughter of a woman who used to live with my grandmother, but who had left the south years ago.  Surprised and rejoiced at this unexpected meeting, I threw my arms round her, and inquired concerning her mother.

“You take no notice of the other girl,” said my friend.  I turned, and there stood my Ellen!  I pressed her to my heart, then held her away from me to take a look at her.  She had changed a good deal in the two years since I parted from her.  Signs of neglect could be discerned by eyes less observing than a mother’s.  My friend invited us all to go into the house; but Ellen said she had been sent of an errand, which she would do as quickly as possible, and go home and ask Mrs. Hobbs to let her come and see me.  It was agreed that I should send for her the next day.  Her companion, Sarah, hastened to tell her mother of my arrival.  When I entered the house, I found the mistress of it absent, and I waited for her return.  Before I saw her, I heard her saying, “Where is Linda Brent?  I used to know her father and mother.”  Soon Sarah came with her mother.  So there was quite a company of us, all from my grandmother’s neighborhood.  These friends gathered round me and questioned me eagerly.  They laughed, they cried, and they shouted.  They thanked God that I had got away from my persecutors and was safe on Long Island.  It was a day of great excitement.  How different from the silent days I had passed in my dreary den!

The next morning was Sunday.  My first waking thoughts were occupied with the note I was to send to Mrs. Hobbs, the lady with whom Ellen lived.  That I had recently come into that vicinity was evident; otherwise I should have sooner inquired for my daughter.  It would not do to let them know I had just arrived from the south, for that would involve the suspicion of my having been harbored there, and might bring trouble, if not ruin, on several people.

I like a straightforward course, and am always reluctant to resort to subterfuges.  So far as my ways have been crooked, I charge them all upon slavery.  It was that system of violence and wrong which now left me no alternative but to enact a falsehood.  I began my note by stating that I had recently arrived from Canada, and was very desirous to have my daughter come to see me.  She came and brought a message from Mrs. Hobbs, inviting me to her house, and assuring