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