Having ended my story I besought him to write to someof my friends at the North， acquainting them with mysituation， and begging them to forward free papers， ortake such steps as they might consider proper to securemy release. He promised to do so， but dwelt upon thedanger of such an act in case of detection， and nowimpressed upon me the great necessity of strict silenceand secresy. Before we parted our plan of operation wasarranged.
We agreed to meet the next night at a specified placeamong the high weeds on the bank of the bayou， somedistance from master’s dwelling. There he was to writedown on paper the names and address of several persons，old friends in the North， to whom he would direct lettersduring his next visit to Marksville. It was not deemedprudent to meet in the new house， inasmuch as thelight it would be necessary to use might possibly bediscovered. In the course of the day I managed to obtain afew matches and a piece of candle， unperceived， from thekitchen， during a temporary absence of Aunt Phebe. Basshad pencil and paper in his tool chest.
At the appointed hour we met on the bayou bank， andcreeping among the high weeds， I lighted the candle，while he drew forth pencil and paper and prepared for business. I gave him the names of William Perry， CephasParker and Judge Marvin， all of Saratoga Springs，Saratoga county， New-York. I had been employed bythe latter in the United States Hotel， and had transactedbusiness with the former to a considerable extent， andtrusted that at least one of them would be still livingat that place. He carefully wrote the names， and thenremarked， thoughtfully—
“It is so many years since you left Saratoga， all thesemen may be dead， or may have removed. You say youobtained papers at the custom house in New-York.
Probably there is a record of them there， and I think itwould be well to write and ascertain.”
I agreed with him， and again repeated the circumstancesrelated heretofore， connected with my visit to the customhouse with Brown and Hamilton. We lingered on thebank of the bayou an hour or more， conversing uponthe subject which now engrossed our thoughts. I couldno longer doubt his fidelity， and freely spoke to him ofthe many sorrows I had borne in silence， and so long. Ispoke of my wife and children， mentioning their namesand ages， and dwelling upon the unspeakable happinessit would be to clasp them to my heart once more beforeI died. I caught him by the hand， and with tears andpassionate entreaties implored him to befriend me—torestore me to my kindred and to liberty—promisingI would weary Heaven the remainder of my life withprayers that it would bless and prosper him. In the enjoyment of freedom—surrounded by the associationsof youth， and restored to the bosom of my family—thatpromise is not yet forgotten， nor shall it ever be so long asI have strength to raise my imploring eyes on high.
“Oh， blessings on his kindly voice and on his silver hair，And blessings on his whole life long， until he meet me there.”
He overwhelmed me with assurances of friendship andfaithfulness， saying he had never before taken so deepan interest in the fate of any one. He spoke of himself ina somewhat mournful tone， as a lonely man， a wandererabout the world—that he was growing old， and mustsoon reach the end of his earthly journey， and lie down tohis final rest without kith or kin to mourn for him， or toremember him—that his life was of little value to himself，and henceforth should be devoted to the accomplishmentof my liberty， and to an unceasing warfare against theaccursed shame of Slavery.
After this time we seldom spoke to， or recognized eachother. He was， moreover， less free in his conversationwith Epps on the subject of Slavery. The remotestsuspicion that there was any unusual intimacy —anysecret understanding between us—never once entered themind of Epps， or any other person， white or black， on theplantation.
I am often asked， with an air of incredulity， how Isucceeded so many years in keeping from my daily andconstant companions the knowledge of my true name and history. The terrible lesson Burch taught me， impressedindelibly upon my mind the danger and uselessness ofasserting I was a freeman. There， was no possibility ofany slave being able to assist me， while， on the otherhand， there was a possibility of his exposing me. When itis recollected the whole current of my thoughts， for twelveyears， turned to the contemplation of escape， it will not bewondered at， that I was always cautious and on my guard.
It would have been an act of folly to have proclaimedmy right to freedom； it would only have subjected me toseverer scrutiny—probably have consigned me to somemore distant and inaccessible region than even BayouBoeuf. Edwin Epps was a person utterly regardless of ablack man’s rights or wrongs—utterly destitute of anynatural sense of justice， as I well knew. It was important，therefore， not only as， regarded my hope of deliverance，but also as regarded the few personal priviliges I was aspermitted to enjoy， to keep from him the history of mylife.
