It was in the month of November, somewhat past the middle of the month.  It was a bright day, and all was quiet.  Most of the slaves were resting about their quarters; others had leave to visit their friends on other plantations, and were absent.  The evening previous I had arranged my little bundle of clothing, and had secreted it at some distance from the house.  I had spent most of the forenoon in my workshop, engaged in deep and solemn thought.

It is impossible for me now to recollect all the perplexing thoughts that passed through my mind during that forenoon; it was a day of heartaching to me.  But I distinctly remember the two great difficulties that stood in the way of my flight:  I had a father and mother whom I dearly loved,—­I had also six sisters and four brothers on the plantation.  The question was, shall I hide my purpose from them? moreover, how will my flight affect them when I am gone?  Will they not be suspected?  Will not the whole family be sold off as a disaffected family, as is generally the case when one of its members flies?  But a still more trying question was, how can I expect to succeed, I have no knowledge of distance or direction.  I know that Pennsylvania is a free state, but I know not where its soil begins, or where that of Maryland ends?  Indeed, at this time there was no safety in Pennsylvania, New Jersey, or New York, for a fugitive, except in lurking-places, or under the care of judicious friends, who could be entrusted not only with liberty, but also with life itself.

With such difficulties before my mind, the day had rapidly worn away; and it was just past noon.  One of my perplexing questions I had settled—­I had resolved to let no one into my secret; but the other difficulty was now to be met.  It was to be met without the least knowledge of its magnitude, except by imagination.  Yet of one thing there could be no mistake, that the consequences of a failure would be most serious.  Within my recollection no one had attempted to escape from my master; but I had many cases in my mind’s eye, of slaves of other planters who had failed, and who had been made examples of the most cruel treatment, by flogging and selling to the far South, where they were never to see their friends more.  I was not without serious apprehension that such would be my fate.  The bare possibility was impressively solemn; but the hour was now come, and the man must act and be free, or remain a slave for ever.  How the impression came to be upon my mind I cannot tell; but there was a strange and horrifying belief, that if I did not meet the crisis that day, I should be self-doomed—­that my ear would be nailed to the door-post for ever.  The emotions of that moment I cannot fully depict.  Hope, fear, dread, terror, love, sorrow, and deep melancholy were mingled in my mind together; my mental state was one of most painful distraction.  When I looked at my numerous family—­a beloved father and mother, eleven brothers and sisters, &c.;