“Ranaway, my man Peter.—­He has a sister and mother in New Kent, and a wife about fifteen or eighteen miles above Richmond, at or about Taylorsville.  THEO.  A. LACY.”

From the “New Orleans Bulletin,” Feb. 7, 1838.

“Ranaway, my negro Philip, aged about 40 years.—­He may have gone to St. Louis, as he has a wife there.  W.G.  CLARK, 70 New Levee.”

From the “Georgian,” Jan. 29, 1838.

“A Reward of $5 will be paid for the apprehension of his negro woman, Diana.  Diana is from 45 to 50 age.  She formerly belonged to Mr. Nath.  Law, of Liberty county, where her husband still lives.  She will endeavor to go there perhaps.  D. O’BYRNE.”

From the “Richmond (Va.) Enquirer,” Feb. 20, 1838.

“$10 Reward for a negro woman, named Sally, 40 years old.  We have just reason to believe the said negro to be now lurking on the James River Canal, or in the Green Spring neighborhood, where, we are informed, her husband resides.  The above reward will be given to any person securing her.

POLLY C. SHIELDS. 
Mount Elba, Feb. 19, 1838.”

“$50 Reward.—­Ran away from the subscriber, his negro man Pauladore, commonly called Paul.  I understand GEN.  R.Y.  HAYNE has purchased his wife and children from H.L.  PINCKNEY, Esq. and has them now on his plantation at Goosecreek, where, no doubt, the fellow is frequently lurking.  T. DAVIS.”

“$25 Reward.—­Ran away from the subscriber, a negro woman, named Matilda.  It is thought she may be somewhere up James River, as she was claimed as a wife by some boatman in Goochland.  J. ALVIS.”

“Stop the Runaway!!!—­$25 Reward.  Ranaway from the Eagle Tavern, a negro fellow, named Nat.  He is no doubt attempting to follow his wife, who was lately sold to a speculator named Redmond.  The above reward will be paid by Mrs. Lucy M. Downman, of Sussex county, Va.”

Multitudes of advertisements like the above appear annually in the southern papers.  Reader, look at the preceding list—­mark the unfeeling barbarity with which their masters and mistresses describe the struggles and perils of sundered husbands and wives, parents and children, in their weary midnight travels through forests and rivers, with torn limbs and breaking hearts, seeking the embraces of each other’s love.  In one instance, a mother torn from all her children and taken to a remote part of another state, presses her way back through the wilderness, hundreds of miles, to clasp once more her children to her heart:  but, when she has arrived within a few miles of them, in the same county, is discovered, seized, dragged to jail, and her purchaser told, through an advertisement, that she awaits his order.  But we need not trace out the harrowing details already before the reader.

Rev. C.S.  RENSHAW, of Quincy, Illinois, who resided some time in Kentucky, says;—­