e with gods helpe that I may be abble to rejoys
with you on the earth and In heaven lets meet when will I am
detemnid to nuver stope praying, not in this earth and I hope
to praise god In glory there weel meet to part no more
forever. So my dear wife I hope to meet you In paradase to
prase god forever * * * * * I want Elizabeth to be a good
girl and not to thinke that becasue I am bound so fare that
gods not abble to open the way * * * *

"GEORGE PLEASANT,
"_Hobbs a servant of Grum_."

The last letter that my mother received from my father was dated
Shelbyville, Tennessee, March 20, 1839. He writes in a cheerful strain,
and hopes to see her soon. Alas! he looked forward to a meeting in vain.
Year after year the one great hope swelled in his heart, but the hope
was only realized beyond the dark portals of the grave.

When I was about seven years old I witnessed, for the first time, the
sale of a human being. We were living at Prince Edward, in Virginia, and
master had just purchased his hogs for the winter, for which he was
unable to pay in full. To escape from his embarrassment it was necessary
to sell one of the slaves. Little Joe, the son of the cook, was selected
as the victim. His mother was ordered to dress him up in his Sunday
clothes, and send him to the house. He came in with a bright face, was
placed in the scales, and was sold, like the hogs, at so much per pound.
His mother was kept in ignorance of the transaction, but her suspicions
were aroused. When her son started for Petersburgh in the wagon, the
truth began to dawn upon her mind, and she pleaded piteously that her
boy should not be taken from her; but master quieted her by telling her
that he was simply going to town with the wagon, and would be back in
the morning. Morning came, but little Joe did not return to his mother.
Morning after morning passed, and the mother went down to the grave
without ever seeing her child again. One day she was whipped for
grieving for her lost boy. Colonel Burwell never liked to see one of his
slaves wear a sorrowful face, and those who offended in this particular
way were always punished. Alas! the sunny face of the slave is not
always an indication of sunshine in the heart. Colonel Burwell at one
time owned about seventy slaves, all of which were sold, and in a
majority of instances wives were separated from husbands and children
from their parents. Slavery in the Border State