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 also sold away, and he does not know where they are or whether they are alive.

His mistress treated him well in his childhood—as good treatment went in that system that separated families as if they were but a herd of sheep. He was kept at the house during the day to bring wood and water, and make himself useful in entertaining the children, and sent to the slave-quarters only at night. Once they discussed in his presence whether they would sell his brother, and he remembers how troubled both were, although they were very young, by the prospect of separation. Afterwards he heard his owner remark that he was sorry he did not sell him and put him in his pocket.

When he was eight years old, he was set to work in the field a part of the time—holding a plough that was about as tall as he was. The war had begun, and the other slaves told him he must listen sharp to what was said by the white folks, and report to them.

He was the table waiter, and when they had talked over the war-news his mistress would say to him, "Now, Tom, you mustn't repeat a word of this." Tom would look, to use his own expression, "mighty obedient;" but, somehow, every slave on the plantation would hear the news within an hour. There were sad faces when the Union troops were whipped, but there was singing all through the slave-quarters when the tidings came of Union victories.

One night the report of the proclamation of emancipation came. The next morning, the children were