Chapter: My young mistress, Miss Emily Flint, did not return any answer to my letter
requesting her to consent to my being sold. But after a while, I received a
reply, which purported to be written by her younger brother. In order
rightly to enjoy the contents of this letter, the reader must bear in mind
that the Flint family supposed I had been at the north many years. They had
no idea that I knew of the doctor's three excursions to New York in search
of me; that I had heard his voice, when he came to borrow five hundred
dollars for that purpose; and that I had seen him pass on his way to the
steamboat. Neither were they aware that all the particulars of aunt Nancy's
death and burial were conveyed to me at the time they occurred. I have kept
the letter, of which I herewith subjoin a copy:--

   Your letter to sister was received a few days ago. I gather from
   it that you are desirous of returning to your native place, among
   your friends and relatives. We were all gratified with the
   contents of your letter; and let me assure you that if any
   members of the family have had any feeling of resentment towards
   you, they feel it no longer. We all sympathize with you in your
   unfortunate condition, and are ready to do all in our power to
   make you contented and happy. It is difficult for you to return
   home as a free person. If you were purchased by your grandmother,
   it is doubtful whether you would be permitted to remain, although
   it would be lawful for you to do so. If a servant should be
   allowed to purchase herself, after absenting herself so long from
   her owners, and return free, it would have an injurious effect.
   From your letter, I think your situation must be hard and
   uncomfortable. Come home. You have it in your power to be
   reinstated in our affections. We would receive you with open arms
   and tears of joy. You need not apprehend any unkind treatment, as
   we have not put ourselves to any trouble or expense to get you.
   Had we done so, perhaps we should feel otherwise. You know my
   sister was always attached to you, and that you were never
   treated as a slave. You were never put to hard work, nor exposed
   to field labor. On the contrary, you were taken into the house,
   and treated as one of us, and almost as free; and we, at least,
   felt that you were above disgracing yourself by running away.
   Believing you may be induced to come home voluntarily has induced
   me to write for my sister. The family will be rejoiced to see
   you; and your poor old grandmother expressed a great desire to
   have you come, when she heard your letter read. In her old age
   she needs the consolation of having her children round her.
   Doubtless you have heard of the death of your aunt. She was a
   faithful servant, and a faithful member of the Episcopal church.
   In her Christian life she taught us how to live--and, O, too high
   the price of knowledge, she taught us how to die! Could you have
   seen us round her death bed, with her mother, all mingling our
   tears in one common stream, you would have thought the same
   heartfelt tie existed between a master and his servant, as
   between a mother and her child. But this subject is too painful
   to dwell upon. I must bring my letter to a close. If you are
   contented to stay away from your old grandmother, your child, and
   the friends who love you, stay where you are. We shall never
   trouble ourselves to apprehend you. But should you prefer to come
   home, we will do all that we can to make you happy. If you do not
   wish to remain in the family, I know that father, by our
   persuasion, will be induced to let you be purchased by any person
   you may choose in our community. You will please answer this as
   soon as possible, and let us know your decision. Sister sends
   much love to you. In the mean time believe me your sincere friend
   and well wisher.

This letter was signed by Emily's brother, who was as yet a mere lad. I
knew, by the style, that it was not written by a person of his age, and
though the writing was disguised, I had been made too unhappy by it, in
former years, not to recognize at once the hand of Dr. Flint. O, the
hypocrisy of slaveholders! Did the old fox suppose I was goose enough to go
into such a trap? Verily, he relied too much on "the stupidity of the
African race." I did not return the family of Flints any thanks for their
cordial invitation--a remissness for which I was, no doubt, charged with
base ingratitude.

Not long afterwards I received a letter from one of my friends at the
south, informing me that Dr. Flint was about to visit the north. The letter
had been delayed, and I supposed he might be already on the way. Mrs. Bruce
did not know I was a fugitive. I told her that important business called me
to Boston, where my brother then was, and asked permission to bring a
friend to supply my place as nurse, for a fortnight. I started on my
journey immediately; and as soon as I arrived, I wrote to my grandmother
that if Benny came, he must be sent to Boston. I knew she was only waiting
for a good chance to send him north, and, fortunately, she had the legal
power to do so, without asking leave of any body. She was a free woman; and
when my children were purchased, Mr. Sands preferred to have the bill of
sale drawn up in her name. It was conjectured that he advanced the money,
but it was not known. At the south, a gentleman may have a shoal of colored
children without any disgrace; but if he is known to purchase them, with
the view of setting them free, the example is thought to be dangerous to
their "peculiar institution," and he becomes unpopular.

There was a good opportunity to send Benny in a vessel coming directly to
New York. He was put on board with a letter to a friend, who was requested
to see him off to Boston. Early one morning, there was a loud rap at my
door, and in rushed Benjamin, all out of breath. "O mother!" he exclaimed,
"here I am! I run all the way; and I come all alone. How d'you do?"

O reader, can you imagine my joy? No, you cannot, unless you have been a
slave mother. Benjamin rattled away as fast as his tongue could go.
"Mother, why don't you bring Ellen here? I went over to Brooklyn to see
her, and she felt very bad when I bid her good by. She said, 'O Ben, I wish
I was going too.' I thought she'd know ever so much; but she don't know so
much as I do; for I can read, and she can't. And, mother, I lost all my
clothes coming. What can I do to get some more? I 'spose free boys can get
along here at the north as well as white boys."

I did not like to tell the sanguine, happy little fellow how much he was
mistaken. I took him to a tailor, and procured a change of clothes. The
rest of the day was spent in mutual asking and answering of questions, with
the wish constantly repeated that the good old grandmother was with us, and
frequent injunctions from Benny to write to her immediately, and be sure to
tell her every thing about his voyage, and his journey to Boston.

Dr. Flint made his visit to New York, and made every exertion to call upon
me, and invite me to return with him, but not being able to ascertain where
I was, his hospitable intentions were frustrated, and the affectionate
family, who were waiting for me with "open arms," were doomed to
disappointment.

As soon as I knew he was safely at home, I placed Benjamin in the care of
my brother William, and returned to Mrs. Bruce. There I remained through
the winter and spring, endeavoring to perform my duties faithfully, and
finding a good degree of happiness in the attractions of baby Mary, the
considerate kindness of her excellent mother, and occasional interviews
with my darling daughter.

But when summer came, the old feeling of insecurity haunted me. It was
necessary for me to take little Mary out daily, for exercise and fresh air,
and the city was swarming with Southerners, some of whom might recognize
me. Hot weather brings out snakes and slaveholders, and I like one class of
the venomous creatures as little as I do the other. What a comfort it is,
to be free to _say_ so!

 The Old Enemy Again Harriet received a letter of reply from Miss Flint, purportedly written by her younger brother. It expressed the family's joy that she had written them and begged her to come home. It promised they would be kind and take care of her, reminding her of how well she was treated when she was there. It was full of forgiveness and warmth, but Harriet saw right through it - it was written by Dr. Flint and was nothing more than a collection of lies. She soon learned that Dr. Flint planned to come north again, so she wrote to her grandmother that Benny should be sent to Boston, not New York, so he would be safer. When Harriet and her son were reunited, her joy knew no bounds. Benny was loquacious and lively, and was thrilled to see his mother. Dr. Flint's visit was unsuccessful and he returned south. Benny was placed in the care of his uncle William and Harriet returned to Mrs. Bruce. She was happy, but worried about summer's influx of southerners, some of whom might recognize her

