who can tell that such or such a person belonged to such or such a master; and the person supposed to be the one sought for, may, perhaps, remember the names of the persons to whom his father and mother belonged:  there is little to be learned from his appearance, for so many years may have passed away that he may have grown out of the memory of his parents, or his nearest relations.  There are thus no lasting family ties to bind relations together, not even the nearest, and this aggravates their distress when they are sold from each other.  I have little hope of finding my four children again.

I have lived in Boston ever since I bought my freedom, except during the last year, which I have spent at Portland, in the state of Maine.

I have yet said nothing of my father.  He was often sold through the failure of his successive owners.  When I was a little boy, he was sold away from us to a distance:  he was then so far off that he could not come to see us oftener than once a year.  After that, he was sold to go still farther away, and then he could not come at all.  I do not know what has become of him.

When my mother became old, she was sent to live in a little lonely log-hut in the woods.  Aged and worn-out slaves, whether men or women, are commonly so treated.  No care is taken of them, except, perhaps, that a little ground is cleared about the hut, on which the old slave, if able, may raise a little corn.  As far as the owner is concerned, they live or die, as it happens:  it is just the same thing as turning out an old horse.  Their children, or other near relations, if living in the neighborhood, take it by turns to go at night with a supply saved out of their own scanty allowance of food, as well as to cut wood and fetch water for them:  this is done entirely through the good feelings of the slaves, and not through the masters’ taking care that it is done.  On these night-visits, the aged inmate of the hut is often found crying on account of sufferings from disease or extreme weakness, or from want of food or water in the course of the day:  many a time, when I have drawn near to my mother’s hut, I have heard her grieving and crying on these accounts:  she was old and blind too, and so unable to help herself.  She was not treated worse than others:  it is the general practice.  Some few good masters do not treat their old slaves so:  they employ them in doing light jobs about the house and garden.

My eldest sister is in Elizabeth City.  She has five children, who, of course, are slaves.  Her master is willing to sell her for $100:  she is growing old.  One of her children, a young man, cannot be bought under $900.