Dr. Flint had the supreme satisfaction of seeing the wagon leave town, and Mrs. Flint had the gratification of supposing that my children were going “as far as wind and water would carry them.”  According to agreement, my uncle followed the wagon some miles, until they came to an old farm house.  There the trader took the irons from William, and as he did so, he said, “You are a damned clever fellow.  I should 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 before me, and in the midst of it appeared the forms of my two children.  They vanished; but I had seen them distinctly.  Some will call it a dream, others a vision.  I know not how to account for it, but it made a strong impression on my mind, and I felt certain something had happened to my little ones.