embankment, and he was among the killed.

"Soon after that my baby was born, and before he was six months old my
mistress died suddenly, when it was found that the estate was
insolvent, and everything must be sold to pay the debts; and I and my
baby, with the other goods and chattels, were put up for sale. Mr.
Martin, the speculator, bought me, thinking I would bring a fancy
price; but my heart was broken, and I grieved until my health gave
way, so that nobody ever wanted me, until your kind-hearted master
bought me to give me a home to die in. But oh, Uncle Bob," she
continued, bursting into tears, "to think my boy, my baby, must be a
slave! His father's relatives are poor. He had only a widowed mother
and two sisters. They are not able to buy my child, and he must be
raised in ignorance, to do another's bidding all his life, my poor
little baby! His dear father hated slavery, and it seems so hard that
his son must be a slave!"

"Now don't yer take on like dat, er makin' uv yerse'f sick," said
Uncle Bob; "I know wat I gwine do; my min' hit's made up; hit's true,
I'm brack, but den my min' hit's made up. Now you go on back ter de
house, outn dis damp a'r, an' tuck cyar er yerse'f, an' don't yer be
er frettin', nuther, caze my marster, he's de bes' man dey is; an'
den, 'sides dat, my min' hit's made up. Hyear, honey," addressing the
child, "take deze hyear white-oak splits an' go'n make yer er baskit
'long o' yer ma."

Ann and her baby returned to the house, but Uncle Snake-bit Rob, long
after the sun went down, still sat on his little bench in front of his
shop, his elbows on his knees, and his face buried in his hands; and
when it grew quite dark he rose, and put away his splits and his