me that I need not have any fears.  The conversation I had with my child did not leave my mind at ease.  When I asked if she was well treated, she answered yes; but there was no heartiness in the tone, and it seemed to me that she said it from an unwillingness to have me troubled on her account.  Before she left me, she asked very earnestly, “Mother, will you take me to live with you?” It made me sad to think that I could not give her a home till I went to work and earned the means; and that might take me a long time.  When she was placed with Mrs. Hobbs, the agreement was that she should be sent to school She had been there two years, and was now nine years old, and she scarcely knew her letters.  There was no excuse for this, for there were good public schools in Brooklyn, to which she could have been sent without expense.

She staid with me till dark, and I went home with her.  I was received in a friendly manner by the family, and all agreed in saying that Ellen was a useful, good girl.  Mrs. Hobbs looked me coolly in the face, and said, “I suppose you know that my cousin, Mr. Sands, has given her to my eldest daughter.  She will make a nice waiting-maid for her when she grows up.”  I did not answer a word.  How could she, who knew by experience the strength of a mother’s love, and who was perfectly aware of the relation Mr. Sands bore to my children,—­how could she look me in the face, while she thrust such a dagger into my heart?

I was no longer surprised that they had kept her in such a state of ignorance.  Mr. Hobbs had formerly been wealthy, but he had failed, and afterwards obtained a subordinate situation in the Custom House.  Perhaps they expected to return to the south some day; and Ellen’s knowledge was quite sufficient for a slave’s condition.  I was impatient to go to work and earn money, that I might change the uncertain position of my children.  Mr. Sands had not kept his promise to emancipate them.  I had also been deceived about Ellen.  What security had I with regard to Benjamin?  I felt that I had none.

I returned to my friend’s house in an uneasy state of mind.  In order to protect my children, it was necessary that I should own myself.  I called myself free, and sometimes felt so; but I knew I was insecure.  I sat down that night and wrote a civil letter to Dr. Flint, asking him to state the lowest terms on which he would sell me; and as I belonged by law to his daughter, I wrote to her also, making a similar request.

Since my arrival at the north I had not been unmindful of my dear brother William.  I had made diligent inquiries for him, and having heard of him in Boston, I went thither.  When I arrived there, I found he had gone to New Bedford.  I wrote to that place, and was informed he had gone on a whaling voyage, and would not return for some months.  I went back to New York to get employment near Ellen.  I received an answer from Dr. Flint, which gave me no encouragement.  He advised me to return and submit myself to my rightful owners, and then any request I might make would be granted.  I lent this letter to a friend, who lost it; otherwise I would present a copy to my readers.