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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 63 pages of information about The Narrative of William W. Brown, a Fugitive Slave.

CHAPTER VIII.

I was sent home, and was glad enough to leave the service of one who was tearing the husband from the wife, the child from the mother, and the sister from the brother,—­but a trial more severe and heart-rending than any which I had yet met with awaited me.  My dear sister had been sold to a man who was going to Natchez, and was lying in jail awaiting the hour of his departure.  She had expressed her determination to die, rather than go to the far south, and she was put in jail for safe keeping.  I went to the jail the same day that I arrived, but as the jailor was not in, I could not see her.

I went home to my master, in the country, and the first day after my return, he came where I was at work, and spoke to me very politely.  I knew from his appearance that something was the matter.  After talking about my several journeys to New Orleans with Mr. Walker, he told me that he was hard pressed for money, and as he had sold my mother and all her children except me, he thought it would be better to sell me than any other one, and that as I had been used to living in the city, he thought it probable that I would prefer it to a country life.  I raised up my head, and looked him full in the face.  When my eyes caught his, he immediately looked to the ground.  After a short pause, I said,

“Master, mother has often told me that you are a near relative of mine, and I have often heard you admit the fact; and after you have hired me out, and received, as I once heard you say, nine hundred dollars for my services,—­after receiving this large sum, will you sell me to be carried to New Orleans or some other place?”

“No,” said he, “I do not intend to sell you to a negro trader.  If I had wished to have done that, I might have sold you to Mr. Walker for a large sum, but I would not sell you to a negro trader.  You may go to the city, and find you a good master.”

“But,” said I, “I cannot find a good master in the whole city of St. Louis.”

“Why?” said he.

“Because there are no good masters in the State.”

“Do you not call me a good master?”

“If you were, you would not sell me.”

“Now I will give you one week to find a master in, and surely you can do it in that time.”

The price set by my evangelical master upon my soul and body was the trifling sum of five hundred dollars.  I tried to enter into some arrangement by which I might purchase my freedom; but he would enter into no such arrangement.

I set out for the city with the understanding that I was to return in a week with some one to become my new master.  Soon after reaching the city, I went to the jail, to learn if I could once more see my sister; but could not gain admission.  I then went to mother, and learned from her that the owner of my sister intended to start for Natchez in a few days.

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