the neighborhood where they are supposed to be, until some one is
found 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