They thought she would be sure to do it, on account of my mother's love and
faithful service. But, alas! we all know that the memory of a faithful
slave does not avail much to save her children from the auction block.

After a brief period of suspense, the will of my mistress was read, and we
learned that she had bequeathed me to her sister's daughter, a child of
five years old. So vanished our hopes. My mistress had taught me the
precepts of God's Word: "Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself."
"Whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, do ye even so unto them."
But I was her slave, and I suppose she did not recognize me as her
neighbor. I would give much to blot out from my memory that one great
wrong. As a child, I loved my mistress; and, looking back on the happy days
I spent with her, I try to think with less bitterness of this act of
injustice. While I was with her, she taught me to read and spell; and for
this privilege, which so rarely falls to the lot of a slave, I bless her
memory.

She possessed but few slaves; and at her death those were all distributed
among her relatives. Five of them were my grandmother's children, and had
shared the same milk that nourished her mother's children. Notwithstanding
my grandmother's long and faithful service to her owners, not one of her
children escaped the auction block. These God-breathing machines are no
more, in the sight of their masters, than the cotton they plant, or the
horses they tend.



II. The New Master And Mistress.