disgracing yourself by running away.  Believing you may be induced to come home voluntarily has induced me to write for my sister.  The family will be rejoiced to see you; and your poor old grandmother expressed a great desire to have you come, when she heard your letter read.  In her old age she needs the consolation of having her children round her.  Doubtless you have heard of the death of your aunt.  She was a faithful servant, and a faithful member of the Episcopal church.  In her Christian life she taught us how to live—­and, O, too high the price of knowledge, she taught us how to die!  Could you have seen us round her death bed, with her mother, all mingling our tears in one common stream, you would have thought the same heartfelt tie existed between a master and his servant, as between a mother and her child.  But this subject is too painful to dwell upon.  I must bring my letter to a close.  If you are contented to stay away from your old grandmother, your child, and the friends who love you, stay where you are.  We shall never trouble ourselves to apprehend you.  But should you prefer to come home, we will do all that we can to make you happy.  If you do not wish to remain in the family, I know that father, by our persuasion, will be induced to let you be purchased by any person you may choose in our community.  You will please answer this as soon as possible, and let us know your decision.  Sister sends much love to you.  In the mean time believe me your sincere friend and well wisher.

This letter was signed by Emily’s brother, who was as yet a mere lad.  I knew, by the style, that it was not written by a person of his age, and though the writing was disguised, I had been made too unhappy by it, in former years, not to recognize at once the hand of Dr. Flint.  O, the hypocrisy of slaveholders!  Did the old fox suppose I was goose enough to go into such a trap?  Verily, he relied too much on “the stupidity of the African race.”  I did not return the family of Flints any thanks for their cordial invitation—­a remissness for which I was, no doubt, charged with base ingratitude.

Not long afterwards I received a letter from one of my friends at the south, informing me that Dr. Flint was about to visit the north.  The letter had been delayed, and I supposed he might be already on the way.  Mrs. Bruce did not know I was a fugitive.  I told her that important business called me to Boston, where my brother then was, and asked permission to bring a friend to supply my place as nurse, for a fortnight.  I started on my journey immediately; and as soon as I arrived, I wrote to my grandmother that if Benny came, he must be sent to Boston.  I knew she was only waiting for a good chance to send him north, and, fortunately, she had the legal power to do so, without asking leave of any body.  She was a free woman; and when my children were purchased, Mr. Sands preferred to have the bill of sale drawn up in her name.  It was conjectured that he advanced the money, but it was not known.  At the south, a gentleman may have a shoal of colored children without any disgrace; but if he is known to purchase them, with the view of setting them free, the example is thought to be dangerous to their “peculiar institution,” and he becomes unpopular.