waiting ever since the State was free, hoping to get some account of us.  He had been informed, previously, that mother, in trying to make her escape, had perished by the way, and the children also, but he was never satisfied.  He was aware that my aunt was permanently in St. Louis, as her master had given her family their freedom twenty years previous.  She was formerly owned by Major Howe, harness and leather dealer, yet residing in St. Louis.  And long may he live and his good works follow him and his posterity forever.  My father well knew the deception of the rebels, and was determined to persevere until he had obtained a satisfactory account of his family.  A gentleman moved directly from Lawrence to St. Louis, who made particular enquiries for us, and even called at my aunt’s.  We then heard directly from my father, and commenced correspondence.  He had not heard directly from us since he made his escape, which was nine years.  He had never heard of his little son who my mother was compelled by Mrs. Lewis to confine in a box.  He was born eight months after he left.  As soon as possible after my mother consented to let my little brother go to his father he sent means to assist us to make preparations for our journey to the North.  At first he only sent for his little son.  My mother was anxious about sending him alone.  He was only eleven years old, and perfectly unused to traveling, and had never been away from his mother.  Finally my father came to the conclusion that, as my mother had endured such extreme hardships and sufferings during the nine years he was not permitted to participate or render her any assistance, that it would afford him much pleasure in sending for us both, bearing our expenses and making us as comfortable as his means would allow.  Money was sent us, and our kind friend, Mr. Howe, obtained our tickets and voluntarily assisted us in starting.  We left for the North on Monday, April 9th, and arrived safe and sound, on the 11th.  We found my step-father’s residence about six o’clock in the evening.  He was not expecting us till the next day.  Our meeting is better imagined than told.  I cannot describe it.  His little son was only two years old when he left, and I was eleven, and we never expected to meet him again this side of eternity.  It was Freedom that brought us together.  My father was comfortably situated in a nice white cottage, containing some eight rooms, all well furnished, and attached to it was a fine garden.  His wife, who is a physician, was absent, but returned on the following day.  The people were kind and friendly.  They informed me there was no other colored family in the city, but my step-mother was continually crowded with friends and customers without distinction.  My step-mother had buried her only son, who returned from the war in a decline.  The white friends were all in deep sympathy with them.  I felt immediately at home among such kind and friendly people, and have never felt homesick, except when I think of my poor mother’s