Clara Bashop searching for her daughter

PARTED IN BONDAGE.
A Colored Woman's Patient
Search.
Thirty Years Seeking Her
Daughter.
Mrs. Clara Bashop's Pathetic Tale of Separation at a
Slave Auction.

For thirty-three years Mrs. Clara
Bashop of Morristown, N. J. has been
searching for her lost daughter, and she
is searching still. Tears have often flowed
over the woes of Uncle Tom, but her story
is sadder and more pathetic than the one
Mrs. Stowe so feelingly told, says the
New York World.
Mrs. Bashop is tall and slender and her
sad face shows the refinement which the
colored women in the aristocratic old
families of the South so often possessed.
At the Colbath House, in Morristown,
where she is in charge of one of the most
important departments, she receives the
implicit confidence and respect of her
employers and of all others who know
her.
Mrs. Bashop belonged to Dick Chris-
tian, a wealthy country gentleman, who
lived near Charles City Court house, Va.
But like many other Virginia country
gentlemen of those days, Mr. Christian
became involved in debt and his slaves
were placed on the block. Among them
were Mrs. Bashop and her twelve-year-
old daughter, Patience.
"She was a bright little girl," said Mrs.
Bashop yesterday, "and when we were
taken into the market-place to be sold I
prayed that wherever we might go we
would go together."
But her wish was not fulfilled. She was
sold first, and Ben Davis, a professional
negro trader, bought her. Then the little
girl was placed on the block and while
the weeping mother stood by she was sold
to a stranger. Mrs Bashop fell on her knees
before Davis and implored him to
buy her daughter from the stranger.
Though hardened by the constant sight
of such scenes Davis' heart was touched
by the agony of the mother. He went to
the stranger and offered to buy the little
girl, but the latter refused to sell her
and went away a few hours later with his pur-
chase.
Mrs. Bashop has never seen her daugh-
ter since, but her own history since then
shows how faithful is a mother's heart,
even though it beats in the humble bosom
of a slave.
Mrs. Bashop was carried to Charleston,
S. C., and sold again. That was in 1859,
and already the rumblings of the coming
war were heard. Slaves changed masters
rapidly then, and Mrs. Bashop was sold
from one to another, passing into Alabama
and Mississippi, being owned at Carroll-
ton, in the latter State, when emancipa-
tion came. But during all her involun-
tary wanderings she had no thought but
of her lost daughter, Patience. She begged
each master to write back to Charles City
Courthouse, Va., and endeavor to discover
something of her. Some complied. Others
did not. But no news ever came of the
missing girl.
When she was free Mrs. Bashop began
the search on her own account. For a
long time she could not get away from
Mississippi. She could earn but little
money, not enough to take her back to
Virginia , where her daughter has been
sold, but she wrote letters and friends
wrote others for her.
At last she saved money enough to
reach Virginia, but the visit added only
to her sorrow. Her former master was
dead and the war had swept away old
landmarks and old recollections. No one
knew anything of her daughter. She
could not even ascertain the name of the
man who bought her. But the mother's
heart was faithful still. She sewed and
she cooked and she did housework. She
denied herself to save money for her
search.
She traveled through Virginia and she
went into Kentucky. She visited South
Carolina and the far South, and every-
where she hunted for her daughter. She
put advertisements in the papers. She
paid the colored preachers to state the
case in their churches before their congre-
gations in order that one person might
tell the story to another and this spread
it throughout the country.
But still no news came of the lost girl.
Though the years passed and the little
Patience, if alive, was a woman now, the
mother still hoped and worked. Then
she thought that her daughter may have
come to the North after the war and she
renewed her search in New York. She
found a home here, and for many months
she hunted through the great city. She
repeated her advertisements in the news-
papers and asked the preachers here, as
she has in the South, to help her, and still
no news came of the lost girl.
Though twenty years had now gone, the
mother was as faithful to her child's mem-
ory as ever and searched for her as eagerly
and as patiently as she did when first she
was free.
Finally she settled at Morristown and
has for many years been employed at the
Colbath House. There she intends to re-
main. But she is still searching for the
lost girl.
Knowing the power of the press she
came to New York and asked the news-
papers to help her. She is an old woman
now, and little Patience, if alive, is middle
aged, but she still thinks that she will find
her daughter.
As the tears flowed down her face and
dropped on the folds of thick, black veil
she said:
"I would know her the moment I saw
her, and I will find her yet."