gay and cheerful, and would go all day singing about her work. And his
father, he could just remember him as a very pleasant man that he used
to run to meet, sometimes, when he saw him coming home away down the
road; but that was long ago. He had not seen him now for years, and he
had heard his mother say that his father's master had moved away out of
the state and taken him with him, and maybe he would never return. Then
Lewis's mother grew sad, and stopped her singing, though she worked as
hard as ever, and kept her children all neat and clean.

And those dear brothers and sisters, what had become of them? There was
Tom, the eldest, the very best fellow in the world, so Lewis thought. He
would sit by the half hour making tops, and whistles, and all sorts of
pretty playthings. And Sam, too! he was always so full of fun and
singing songs. What a singer he was! and it was right cheerful when Sam
would borrow some neighbor's banjo and play to them. But they were all
gone; and his sad, sweet-faced, lady-like sister Nelly, too, they were
all taken off in one day by one of the ugliest negro-drivers that ever
scared a little slave-boy's dreams. And it was while his mother was away
from home too. How she did cry and take on when she came back and found
them all gone, and she hadn't even the chance to bid them good-by! She
said she knew her master sent her off that morning because he was going
to sell her children.

Lewis shuddered as he thought of that dreadful night. It was hardly two
years ago, and the fearful things he heard then burned into his soul
with terrible distinctness. It seemed as if their little cabin was
deserted after that, for Tom, and Sam, and Nelly were almost grown up,
and the rest were all little ones. The next winter his other sister,
Fanny, died; but that wasn't half so sad. She was about twelve years
old, and a blithesome, cheerful creature, just as her mother had been.