[Narrative of the Life and Adventures of Henry Bibb, an American Slave, Written by Himself by Henry Bibb]@TWC D-Link book
Narrative of the Life and Adventures of Henry Bibb, an American Slave, Written by Himself

CHAPTER IX
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He commenced rubbing his hands together, and replied by saying: "Yes sir, I am glad to see you.
It is a part of my business here to buy slaves, and if I could get you to take my lumber in part pay I should like to buy four or five of your slaves at any rate.

What kind of slaves have you, sir ?" After I found that he took me to be a slave trader I knew that it would be of no use for me to tell him that I was myself a slave looking for a master, for he would have doubtless brought up the same objection that others had brought up,--that I was too white; and that they were afraid that I could read and write; and would never serve as a slave, but run away.

My reply to the question respecting the quality of my slaves was, that I did not think his lumber would suit me--that I must have the cash for my negroes, and turned on my heel and left him! I returned to the prison and informed my wife of the fact that I had been taken to be a slaveholder.

She thought that in addition to my light complexion my being dressed up in Garrison's old slave trading clothes might have caused the man to think that I was a slave trader, and she was afraid that we should yet be separated if I should not succeed in finding some body to buy us.
Every day to us was a day of trouble, and every night brought new and fearful apprehensions that the golden link which binds together husband and wife might be broken by the heartless tyrant before the light of another day.
Deep has been the anguish of my soul when looking over my little family during the silent hours of the night, knowing the great danger of our being sold off at auction the next day and parted forever.

That this might not come to pass, many have been the tears and prayers which I have offered up to the God of Israel that we might be preserved.
While waiting here to be disposed of, I heard of one Francis Whitfield, a cotton planter, who wanted to buy slaves.


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