Mrs. Clara Bashop searching for her daughter Patience (3rd of 4 ads placed)

Mrs. Bashop's Pitiful Quest for Her
Daughter, Patience.
The Aged Mother Sought in Many States
for Clues of Her Missing Child, but
Without Avail—Now She Wants "The
World's" Million Readers to Assist
in Finding the Girl for Whom She
Has Slaved So Long to Discover.
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
Mrs. Bashop is tall and slender, and her
sad face shows the refinement which the col-
ored [colored] women in the aristocratic old families of
the South so often possessed. At the Col-
bath [Colbath] House, in Morristown, where she is in
charge of one of the most important depart-
ments [departments], she receives the implicit confidence
and respect of her employers and of all others
who know her.
Mrs. Bashop belonged to Dick Christian, 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 to-
gether [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 be-
fore [before] Davis and implored him to buy her
daughter from the stranger.
Though hardened by the constant sight of
such scenes, Davis's 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 purchase.
Mrs. Bashop has never seen her daughter
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 Missis-
sippi [Mississippi], being owned at Carrollton, in the latter
State, when emancipation came. But during
all her involuntary wanderings she had no
thought but of her lost daughter, Patience.
She begged each master to write back to
Charles City Court-House, Va., and endeavor
to discover something of her. Some com-
plied [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 daugh-
ter [daughter] had 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 sor-
row [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 travelled through Virginia and she
went into Kentucky. She visited South Car-
olina [South Carolina] and the far South, and everywhere she
hunted for her daughter. She put advertise-
ments [advertisements] in the papers. She paid the colored
preachers to state the case in their churches
before their congregations, in order that one
person might tell the story to another and
thus 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 advertise-
ments [advertisements] in the newspapers and asked the
colored preachers here, as she had 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 memory
as ever, and searched for her as eagerly and
as patiently as she did when first she was
Finally she settled at Morristown, and has
for many years been employed at the Colbath
House. There she intends to remain. But
she is still searching for the lost girl.
Yesterday, knowing the power of a great
newspaper, she came to New York and asked
THE WORLD 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 her thick, black veil,
she said:
"I would know her the moment I saw her,
and I will find her yet."

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