A Short Story Of Frederick Douglas's Life

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Frederick Douglass’s Life Slavery is a huge topic that includes inspiring stories from slaves, and many heroes. The story of Frederick Douglass is no exception to that. Douglass was born a slave, and was constantly beaten and punished, but that did not stop him from making a difference. After escaping, he tried to do anything he could to stop slavery. He made many lectures where talked about his experiences with slavery, and also made a newspaper called “The North Star” that talked about abolishing slavery. Douglass suffered horribly as a slave until he freed himself, where he lived the rest of his life blissfully, in which he helped obliterate slavery once and for all, and made a name for himself and overcame his obstacles to accomplish…show more content…
Separated from his mother when only a few weeks old, he was raised by his grandparents. At about the age of six, his grandmother took him to the plantation of his master and left him there. Not being told by her that she was going to leave him, Douglass never recovered from the betrayal of the abandonment.” In more details, Frederick Douglass states that he was I was born in Tuckahoe, near Hillsborough, which was about twelve miles from Easton, in Talbot county, Maryland. Frederick Douglass never had any accurate knowledge about his age. The masters of the slaves never wanted to let the slaves know their real age because they always wanted them to be ignorant. His mother’s name was Harriet bailey. She was the daughter of Isaac and Betsey Bailey, both of them were colored. His father was known to be a white man and many thought his master was his father (Douglass 1). He was separated from his mother when he was an infant, he only seen her four times in his life, for a short time, and at night. She was always would walk on foot twelve miles to see him, when Douglass was seven years old, she died after a long life of hardship and misery (Douglass 2). Douglass never found out who his real father…show more content…
I was quite a child, but I well remember it. I never shall forget it whilst I remember any thing. It was the first of a long series of such outrages, of which I was doomed to be a witness and a participant. It struck me with awful force. It was the bloodstained gate, the entrance to the hell of slavery, through which I was about to pass. It was a most terrible spectacle. I wish I could commit to paper the feelings with which I beheld it. This occurrence took place very soon after I went to live with my old master, and under the following circumstances. Aunt Hester went out one night,—where or for what I do not know,—and happened to be absent when my master desired her presence. He had ordered her not to go out evenings, and warned her that she must never let him catch her in company with a young man, who was paying attention to her belonging to Colonel Lloyd. The young man’s name was Ned Roberts, generally called Lloyd’s Ned. Why master was so careful of her, may be safely left to conjecture. She was a woman of noble form, and of graceful proportions, having very few equals,
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