Having been born a freeman， and for more than thirtyyears enjoyed the blessings of liberty in a free State—andhaving at the end of that time been kidnapped and soldinto Slavery， where I remained， until happily rescued inthe month of January， 1853， after a bondage of twelveyears—it has been suggested that an account of my lifeand fortunes would not be uninteresting to the public.
Since my return to liberty， I have not failed to perceivethe increasing interest throughout the Northern States，in regard to the subject of Slavery. Works of fiction，professing to portray its features in their more pleasingas well as more repugnant aspects， have been circulatedto an extent unprecedented， and， as I understand， havecreated a fruitful topic of comment and discussion.
I can speak of Slavery only so far as it came undermy own observation—only so far as I have known andexperienced it in my own person. My object is， to give acandid and truthful statement of facts： to repeat the storyof my life， without exaggeration， leaving it for others todetermine， whether even the pages of fiction present apicture of more cruel wrong or a severer bondage.
As far back as I have been able to ascertain， myancestors on the paternal side were slaves in Rhode Island.
They belonged to a family by the name of Northup， oneof whom， removing to the State of New York， settledat Hoosic， in Rensselaer county. He brought withhim Mintus Northup， my father. On the death of thisgentleman， which must have occurred some fifty yearsago， my father became free， having been emancipated bya direction in his will.
Henry B. Northup， Esq.， of Sandy Hill， a distinguishedcounselor at law， and the man to whom， under
Providence， I am indebted for my present liberty， and myreturn to the society of my wife and children， is a relativeof the family in which my forefathers were thus held toservice， and from which they took the name I bear. Tothis fact may be attributed the persevering interest he hastaken in my behalf.
Sometime after my father’s liberation， he removed tothe town of Minerva， Essex county， N. Y.， where I wasborn， in the month of July， 1808. How long he remainedin the latter place I have not the means of definitelyascertaining. From thence he removed to Granville，Washington county， near a place known as Slyborough，where， for some years， he labored on the farm of ClarkNorthup， also a relative of his old master； from thencehe removed to the Alden farm， at Moss Street， a shortdistance north of the village of Sandy Hill； and fromthence to the farm now owned by Russel Pratt， situatedon the road leading from Fort Edward to Argyle， where hecontinued to reside until his death， which took place on003
the 22d day of November， 1829. He left a widow and twochildren—myself， and Joseph， an elder brother. The latteris still living in the county of Oswego， near the city of thatname； my mother died during the period of my captivity.
Though born a slave， and laboring under the disadvantages to which my unfortunate race is subjected，my father was a man respected for his industry andintegrity， as many now living， who well remember him， areready to testify. His whole life was passed in the peacefulpursuits of agriculture， never seeking employment inthose more menial positions， which seem to be especiallyallotted to the children of Africa. Besides giving us aneducation surpassing that ordinarily bestowed uponchildren in our condition， he acquired， by his diligenceand economy， a sufficient property qualification to entitlehim to the right of suffrage. He was accustomed to speakto us of his early life； and although at all times cherishingthe warmest emotions of kindness， and even of affectiontowards the family， in whose house he had been abondsman， he nevertheless comprehended the systemof Slavery， and dwelt with sorrow on the degradationof his race. He endeavored to imbue our minds withsentiments of morality， and to teach us to place our， trustand confidence in Him who regards the humblest as wellas the highest of his creatures. How often since that timehas the recollection of his paternal counsels occurred tome， while lying in a slave hut in the distant and sicklyregions of Louisiana， smarting with the undeserved wounds which an inhuman master had inflicted， andlonging only for the grave which had covered him， toshield me also from the lash of the oppressor. In thechurch-yard at Sandy Hill， an humble stone marks thespot where he reposes， after having worthily performedthe duties appertaining to the lowly sphere wherein Godhad appointed him to walk.
Up to this period I had been principally engaged withmy father in the labors of the farm. The leisure hoursallowed me were generally either employed over mybooks， or playing on the violin—an amusement whichwas the ruling passion of my youth. It has also been thesource of consolation since， affording， pleasure to thesimple beings with whom my lot was cast， and beguilingmy own thoughts， for many hours， from the painfulcontemplation of my fate.
On Christmas day， 1829， I was married to AnneHampton， a colored girl then living in the vicinity of ourresidence. The ceremony was performed at Fort Edward，by Timothy Eddy， Esq.， a magistrate of that town， andstill a prominent citizen of the place. She had resided along time at Sandy Hill， with Mr. Baird， proprietor of theEagle Tavern， and also in the family of Rev. AlexanderProudfit， of Salem. This gentleman for many years hadpresided over the Presbyterian society at the latter place，and was widely distinguished for his learning and piety.
Anne still holds in grateful remembrance the exceedingkindness and the excellent counsels of that good man. She is not able to determine the exact line of her descent， butthe blood of three races mingles in her veins. It is difficultto tell whether the red， white， or black predominates.
