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<p>deed, there was very little utteran</p>
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We saw or heard of him. Alex Brown's mother followed next. After the poor woman was gone, I said to Alex,-- "Now that your mother has been sold, it is time that you and I studied out a plan to run away and be free." But so thoroughly had his humanity been crushed by the foul spirit of Slavery, so apathetic had he--though in the vigor of youth--become from long oppression, that he would not agree to my suggestion. "No," he said, "'t is no use for you and I to run away. It is too far to the Free States. We could not get there. They would take us up and sell us; so we had better not go. Master Mack can't sell any more of his hands; there are no more than can carry on his farm." "Very well," said I, "trust to that, and you will see what will come of it." After that I said no more to him, but determined to be free. My brother Charles was of like mind; but we kept our thoughts to ourselves. How old I was then I do not know; but from what the neighbors told me, I must have been about seventeen. Slaveholders are particular to keep the pedigree and age of favorite horses and dogs, but are quite indifferent about the age of their servants, until they want to purchase. Then they are careful to select young persons, though not one in twenty can tell year, month, or day. Speaking of births,--it is the time of "corn-planting," "corn-husking," "Christmas," "New Year," "Easter," "the Fourth of July," or some similar indefinite date. My own time of birth was no more exact; so that to this day I am uncertain how old I am. About the time of the conversation last narrated, Jefferson Dorsey, a planter near by, had a butchering. One of Dorsey's men met me, and said that they wanted more help, and that Master Mack said I might go and lend a hand. Thinking that
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