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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.

At about ten o’clock in the morning I went on board of the boat, and found her there in company with fifty or sixty other slaves.  She was chained to another woman.  On seeing me, she immediately dropped her head upon her heaving bosom.  She moved not, neither did she weep.  Her emotions were too deep for tears.  I approached, threw my arms around her neck, kissed her, and fell upon my knees, begging her forgiveness, for I thought myself to blame for her sad condition; for if I had not persuaded her to accompany me, she would not then have been in chains.

She finally raised her head, looked me in the face, (and such a look none but an angel can give!) and said, “My dear son, you are not to blame for my being here.  You have done nothing more nor less than your duty.  Do not, I pray you, weep for me.  I cannot last long upon a cotton plantation.  I feel that my heavenly master will soon call me home, and then I shall be out of the hands of the slave-holders!

I could bear no more—­my heart struggled to free itself from the human form.  In a moment she saw Mr. Mansfield coming toward that part of the boat, and she whispered into my ear, “My child, we must soon part to meet no more this side of the grave.  You have ever said that you would not die a slave; that you would be a freeman.  Now try to get your liberty!  You will soon have no one to look after but yourself!” and just as she whispered the last sentence into my ear, Mansfield came up to me, and with an oath, said, “Leave here this instant; you have been the means of my losing one hundred dollars to get this wench back,”—­at the same time kicking me with a heavy pair of boots.  As I left her, she gave one shriek, saying, “God be with you!” It was the last time that I saw her, and the last word I heard her utter.

I walked on shore.  The bell was tolling.  The boat was about to start.  I stood with a heavy heart, waiting to see her leave the wharf.  As I thought of my mother, I could but feel that I had lost

“—­the glory of my life, My blessing and my pride!  I half forgot the name of slave, When she was by my side.”

CHAPTER XI.

The love of liberty that had been burning in my bosom, had well nigh gone out.  I felt as though I was ready to die.  The boat moved gently from the wharf, and while she glided down the river, I realized that my mother was indeed

    “Gone,—­gone,—­sold and gone,
    To the rice swamp dank and lone!”

After the boat was out of sight, I returned home; but my thoughts were so absorbed in what I had witnessed, that I knew not what I was about half of the time.  Night came, but it brought no sleep to my eyes.

In a few days, the boat upon which I was to work being ready, I went on board to commence.  This employment suited me better than living in the city, and I remained until the close of navigation; though it proved anything but pleasant.  The captain was a drunken, profligate, hard-hearted creature, not knowing how to treat himself, or any other person.

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