By this time she had become haggard and hollow-eyed with sickness and with sorrow. It would be a relief if Icould consistently pass over in silence the scene that nowensued. It recalls memories more mournful and affectingthan any language can portray. I have seen motherskissing for the last time the faces of their dead offspring； Ihave seen them looking down into the grave， as the earthfell with a dull sound upon their coffins， hiding themfrom their eyes forever； but never have I seen such anexhibition of intense， unmeasured， and unbounded grief，as when Eliza was parted from her child. She broke fromher place in the line of women， and rushing down whereEmily was standing， caught her in her arms. The child，sensible of some impending danger， instinctively fastenedher hands around her mother’s neck， and nestled herlittle head upon her bosom. Freeman sternly orderedher to be quiet， but she did not heed him. He caught herby the arm and pulled her rudely， but she only clung thecloser to the child. Then， with a volley of great oaths，he struck her such a heartless blow， that she staggeredbackward， and was like to fall. Oh！ how piteously thendid she beseech and beg and pray that they might not beseparated. Why could they not be purchased together？
Why not let her have one of her dear children？ “Mercy，mercy， master！” she cried， falling on her knees. “Please，master， buy Emily. I can never work any if she is takenfrom me： I will die.”
Freeman interfered again， but， disregarding him， shestill plead most earnestly， telling how Randall had been taken from her—how she never him see him again， andnow it was too bad—oh， God！ it was too bad， too cruel， totake her away from Emily—her pride—her only darling，that could not live， it was so young， without its mother！
Finally， after much more of supplication， the purchaserof Eliza stepped forward， evidently affected， and said toFreeman he would buy Emily， and asked him what herprice was.
“What is her price？ Buy her？” was the responsiveinterrogatory of Theophilus Freeman. And instantlyanswering his own inquiry， he added， “I won’t sell her.
She’s not for sale.”
The man remarked he was not in need of one soyoung—that it would be of no profit to him， but sincethe mother was so fond of her， rather than see themseparated， he would pay a reasonable price. But to thishumane proposal Freeman was entirely deaf. He wouldnot sell her then on any account whatever. There wereheaps and piles of money to be made of her， he said，when she was a few years older. There were men enoughin New-Orleans who would give five thousand dollarsfor such an extra， handsome， fancy piece as Emily wouldbe， rather than not get her. No， no， he would not sell herthen. She was a beauty—a picture—a doll—one of theregular bloods—none of your thick-lipped， bullet-headed，cotton-picking niggers—if she was might he be d—d.
When Eliza heard Freeman’s determination not to partwith Emily， she became absolutely frantic.
“I will not go without her. They shall not take her fromme，” she fairly shrieked， her shrieks commingling withthe loud and angry voice of Freeman， commanding her tobe silent.
Meantime Harry and myself had been to the yard andreturned with our blankets， and were at the front doorready to leave. Our purchaser stood near us， gazing atEliza with an expression indicative of regret at havingbought her at the expense of so much sorrow. We waitedsome time， when， finally， Freeman， out of patience， toreEmily from her mother by main force， the two clinging toeach other with all their might.
“Don’t leave me， mama—don’t leave me，” screamedthe child， as its mother was pushed harshly forward； “Don’tleave me—come back， mama，” she still cried， stretchingforth her little arms imploringly. But she cried in vain. Outof the door and into the street we were quickly hurried.
Still we could hear her calling to her mother， “Come back—don’t leave me—come back， mama，” until her infant voicegrew faint and still more faint， and gradually died away，as distance intervened， and finally was wholly lost.
Eliza never after saw or heard of Emily or Randall.
Day nor night， however， were they ever absent from hermemory. In the cotton field， in the cabin， always andeverywhere， she was talking of them—often to them， as ifthey were actually present. Only when absorbed in thatillusion， or asleep， did she ever have a moment’s comfortafterwards.
She was no common slave， as has been said. To alarge share of natural intelligence which she possessed，was added a general knowledge and information onmost subjects. She had enjoyed opportunities such asSEPERATION OF ELIZA AND HER LAST CHILD.
are afforded to very few of her oppressed class. She hadbeen lifted up into the regions of a higher life. Freedom—freedom for herself and for her offspring， for many yearshad been her cloud by day， her pillar of fire by night. Inher pilgrimage through the wilderness of bondage， witheyes fixed upon that hope-inspiring beacon， she had atlength ascended to “the top of Pisgah，” and beheld “theland of promise.” In an unexpected moment she wasutterly overwhelmed with disappointment and despair.
The glorious vision of liberty faded from her sight asthey led her away into captivity. Now “she weepeth sorein the night， and tears are on her cheeks： all her friendshave dealt treacherously with her： they have become herenemies.”
