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Show Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl. I was far fro1n feeling sati. ·fled with Ell ell' si Lnation. She \\ras not \Yell cared for. ~ ihc ·on1ctinlo. · cmno to Now York to vi .·it 1110; but she generally hrouo·ht a request fron1 ~fr'"'. II obb · that 1 \Vould buy her a pair of shoo. , or f'Onlo article of clothing. Thi · \Ya~ a ·companied lly a pr Ini.·c of pnyn1 nt \Vhon 1\[r. llobh ·'s salary at tho On ·ton1liou.-o bocan1c dlle; but .·on1o how or other the pay-clay never cmnc. Thus n1any dollars of 1ny oarninn·s \rcrC'" cxp ndud to keep 1ny child cmnfortal> ly clothed. That, howc,·cr, \ras a slio·ht trouble coin pared ·with tho fear that their pecuniary c1nbarra s-' mcnts 1night induce thcn1 to sell my procious young daughter. I knc\v they were in constant co1nn1unication 'vith Southerner , and had frequent opportunities to do it. 1 have stated that when Dr. Flint put Ellen in jail, at two years old, she had an iuflan11nation of the eye.-, occa ·ioned by n1easlc . 1'hi. · eli ·ca c till troubled her · and kincl ~frs. Bruce proposed that she should con1e to' N C\V York for a ·while, to be under the care of Dr. Elliott, a \veil known oculi t. It did not occur to me that there \Vas any thing i1npropcr in a mother's rnaking such a request; but ~fr ·. IIoblJs \vas very angry, and refused to let her go. Situated a. I wa , it was not poli Lie to insif't n pon it. I tuaclc no complaint, but I longed to he entirely free to act a n1other's part to\Yards 1ny children. Tho next tin1o I \Ycnt over to Brooklyn, }irs. IIoblJs, a. if to apologize for her anger, told 1110 she hau cn11Jloyc<l her own physician to attend to Ellen's c~os, and that she had roftt ·od n1y request because she dlCl not cousiclcr it safe to trust her in Now York. I accepted the explanation in ·ilcucc ; but she had told me that n1y chilu belonged to her daughter, and I sus- ( ( .. [ A Home Found. 257 peciecl that her rcal1notivc was a Coax of 1n,r co · < J llVCJlng her properLy a way frotn lJUr. 1 \ Tha p. · 1 diu her in-ju.- tice ; but n1y kno\vledt!·e of ~ottLherners lnatte it dif1iculL ior 1nu to feel oLl1erwi~c . 8\vc t and. hj tter w.uru 1nixed in the cup of 1ny lifo, and I wa · tltanldul that 1t hau cmt.·ecl to be entirely bitter. I loved :Jfr. ·. Bruce ,s Labe. \Vh on it luu o·heJ ancl crow d in n1y face, and tw-ined i L · little tender anu · conGdingly about 1ny neck, .it 1na(lo 1110 think of Lhc time when 13cnuy ancl Ellen were babies, and 1nv wounded heart was oothcd. One brigh L n1 orni11g, a~ I ·tood at the windovv, tossing bal>y ju 1nr ann~ 1ny attention was attracted. by a young 1nan in ailor' · <lr ·~, who was closely ob erving every hon. ·e as he pas eel. I looked at hitn carne tly. Could it l>e 1ny brother \Villian1? It 1nust be he- and yet, how cba.ngccl ! I pln.cccl the baby ·afoly, flew clown stair ·, opened the front door, beckoned to the sailor, and in los· than a 1ninute I was clasped in n1y brother's ann·. liow much we had to tell each other ! IIow vvc laughed, and how we cried, over each other's au venture~! l took hin1 to Brooklyn, and again saw hi1n \vith Bllcn, the dear chilu whon1 he had loved and tended so carefully, while I was shut up in n1y 111iserablc den. lie staiu in Now York a week. His old fecliugs of affection for 1nc and Ellen were as lively as ever. There arc no bonds .-o trong as those which arc for1nccl by suffering together. 22* |
