I was born in Tuckahoe, near Hillsborough, and about twelve miles from Easton, in
Talbot county, Maryland. I have no accurate knowledge of my age, never having seen
any authentic record containing it. By far the larger part of the slaves know as little of
their ages as horses know of theirs, and it is the wish of most masters within my
knowledge to keep their slaves thus ignorant. I do not remember to have ever met a slave
who could tell of his birthday. They seldom come nearer to it than planting-time,
harvesttime, cherry-time, spring-time, or fall-time. A want of information concerning my
own was a source of unhappiness to me even during childhood. The white children could
tell their ages. I could not tell why I ought to be deprived of the same privilege. I was not
allowed to make any inquiries of my master concerning it. He deemed all such inquiries
on the part of a slave improper and impertinent, and evidence of a restless spirit. The
nearest estimate I can give makes me now between twenty-seven and twentyeight years
of age. I come to this, from hearing my master say, some time during 1835, I was about
seventeen years old.
My mother was named Harriet Bailey. She was the daughter of Isaac and Betsey Bailey,
both colored, and quite dark. My mother was of a darker complexion than either my
grandmother or grandfather.
My father was a white man. He was admitted to be such by all I ever heard speak of my
parentage. The opinion was also whispered that my master was my father; but of the
correctness of this opinion, I know nothing; the means of knowing was withheld from
me. My mother and I were separated when I was but an infant--before I knew her as my
mother. It is a common custom, in the part of Maryland from which I ran away, to part
children from their mothers at a very early age. Frequently, before the child has reached
its twelfth month, its mother is taken from it, and hired out on some farm a considerable
distance off, and the child is placed under the care of an old woman, too old for field
labor. For what this separation is done, I do not know, unless it be to hinder the
development of the child's affection toward its mother, and to blunt and destroy the
natural affection of the mother for the child. This is the inevitable result.
I never saw my mother, to know her as such, more than four or five times in my life;
and each of these times was very short in duration, and at night. She was hired by a Mr.
Stewart, who lived about twelve miles from my home. She made her journeys to see me
in the night, travelling the whole distance on foot, after the performance of her day's
work. She was a field hand, and a whipping is the penalty of not being in the field at
sunrise, unless a slave has special permission from his or her master to the contrary--a
permission which they seldom get, and one that gives to him that gives it the proud name
of being a kind master. I do not recollect of ever seeing my mother by the light of day.
She was with me in the night. She would lie down with me, and get me to sleep, but long
before I waked she was gone. Very little communication ever took place between us.
Death soon ended what little we could have while she lived, and with it her hardships and
