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A THIRTY YEARS' SEARCH.

Mrs. Bashop's Pitiful Quest for Her Daughter, Patience.

THEY WERE SEPARATED AT AN AUC-TION SALE OF SLAVES.

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 told.

Mrs. Bashop is tall and slender, and her sad face shows the refinement which the col-ored women in the aristocratic old families of the South so often possessed. At the Col-bath House, in Morristown, where she is in charge of one of the most important depart-ments, 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."

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 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, 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. 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 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. 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 and the far South, and everywhere she hunted for her daughter. She put advertise-ments 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 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 free.

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."