memoir of old elizabeth, a coloured woman. * * * * * "there is neither jew nor greek, there is neither bond nor free, there is neither male nor female, for ye are all one in christ jesus." gal. iii. 25. * * * * * philadelphia: collins, printer, 705 jayne street. 1863. memoir, &c. in the following narrative of "old elizabeth," which was taken mainly from her own lips in her 97th year, her simple language has been adhered to as strictly as was consistent with perspicuity and propriety. i was born in maryland in the year 1766. my parents were slaves. both my father and mother were religious people, and belonged to the methodist society. it was my father's practice to read in the bible aloud to his children every sabbath morning. at these seasons, when i was but five years old, i often felt the overshadowing of the lord's spirit, without at all understanding what it meant; and these incomes and influences continued to attend me until i was eleven years old, particularly when i was alone, by which i was preserved from doing anything that i thought was wrong. in the eleventh year of my age, my master sent me to another farm, several miles from my parents, brothers, and sisters, which was a great trouble to me. at last i grew so lonely and sad i thought i should die, if i did not see my mother. i asked the overseer if i might go, but being positively denied, i concluded to go without his knowledge. when i reached home my mother was away. i set off and walked twenty miles before i found her. i staid with her for several days, and we returned together. next day i was sent back to my new place, which renewed my sorrow. at parting, my mother told me that i had "nobody in the wide world to look to but god." these words fell upon my heart with ponderous weight, and seemed to add to my grief. i went back repeating as i went, "none but god in the wide world." on reaching the farm, i found the overseer was displeased at me for going without his liberty. he tied me with a rope, and gave me some stripes of which i carried the marks for weeks. after this time, finding as my mother said, i had none in the world to look to but god, i betook myself to prayer, and in every lonely place i found an altar. i mourned sore like a dove and chattered forth my sorrow, moaning in the corners of the field, and under the fences. i continued in this state for about six months, feeling as though my head were waters, and i could do nothing but weep. i lost my appetite, and not being able to take enough food to sustain nature, i became so weak i had but little strength to work; still i was required to do all my duty. one evening, after the duties of the day were ended, i thought i could not live over the night, so threw myself on a bench, expecting to die, and without being prepared to meet my maker; and my spirit cried within me, must i die in this state, and be banished from thy presence forever? i own i am a sinner in thy sight, and not fit to live where thou art. still it was my fervent desire that the lord would pardon me. just at this season, i saw with my spiritual eye, an awful gulf of misery. as i thought i was about to plunge into it, i heard a voice saying, "rise up and pray," which strengthened me. i fell on my knees and prayed the best i could the lord's prayer. knowing no more to say, i halted, but continued on my knees. my spirit was then _taught_ to pray, "lord, have mercy on me--christ save me." immediately there appeared a director, clothed in white raiment. i thought he took me by the hand and said, "come with me." he led me down a long journey to a fiery gulf, and left me standing upon the brink of this awful pit. i began to scream for mercy, thinking i was about to be plunged to the belly of hell, and believed i should sink to endless ruin. although i prayed and wrestled with all my might, it seemed in vain. still, i felt all the while that i was sustained by some invisible power. at this solemn moment, i thought i saw a hand from which hung, as it were, a silver hair, and a voice told me that all the hope i had of being saved was no more than a hair; still, pray, and it will be sufficient. i then renewed my struggle, crying for mercy and salvation, until i found that every cry raised me higher and higher, and my head was quite above the fiery pillars. then i thought i was permitted to look straight forward, and saw the saviour standing with his hand stretched out to receive me. an indescribably glorious light was _in_ him, and he said, "peace, peace, come unto me." at this moment i felt that my sins were forgiven me, and the time of my deliverance was at hand. i sprang forward and fell at his feet, giving him all the thanks and highest praises, crying, thou hast redeemed me--thou hast redeemed me to thyself. i felt filled with light and love. at this moment i thought my former guide took me again by the hand and led me upward, till i came to the celestial world and to heaven's door, which i saw was open, and while i stood there, a power surrounded me which drew me in, and i saw millions of glorified spirits in white robes. after i had this view, i thought i heard a voice saying, "art thou willing to be saved?" i said, yes lord. again i was asked, "art thou willing to be saved in my way?" i stood speechless until he asked me again, "art thou willing to be saved in my way?" then i heard a whispering voice say, "if thou art not saved in the lord's way, thou canst not be saved at all;" at which i exclaimed, "yes lord, in thy own way." immediately a light fell upon my head, and i was filled with light, and i was shown the world lying in wickedness, and was told i must go there, and call the people to repentance, for the day of the lord was at hand; and this message was as a heavy yoke upon me, so that i wept bitterly at the thought of what i should have to pass through. while i wept, i heard a voice say, "weep not, some will laugh at thee, some will scoff at thee, and the dogs will bark at thee, but while thou doest my will, i will be with thee to the ends of the earth." i was at this time not yet thirteen years old. the next day, when i had come to myself, i felt like a new creature in christ, and all my desire was to see the saviour. i lived in a place where there was no preaching, and no religious instruction; but every day i went out amongst the hay-stacks, where the presence of the lord overshadowed me, and i was filled with sweetness and joy, and was as a vessel filled with holy oil. in this way i continued for about a year; many times while my hands were at my work, my spirit was carried away to spiritual things. one day as i was going to my old place behind the hay-stacks to pray, i was assailed with this language, "are you going there to weep and pray? what a fool! there are older professors than you are, and they do not take that way to get to heaven; people whose sins are forgiven ought to be joyful and lively, and not be struggling and praying." with this i halted and concluded i would not go, but do as other professors did, and so went off to play; but at this moment the light that was in me became darkened, and the peace and joy that i once had, departed from me. about this time i was moved back to the farm where my mother lived, and then sold to a stranger. here i had deep sorrows and plungings, not having experienced a return of that sweet evidence and light with which i had been favoured formerly; but by watching unto prayer, and wrestling mightily with the lord, my peace gradually returned, and with it a great exercise and weight upon my heart for the salvation of my fellow-creatures; and i was often carried to distant lands and shown places where i should have to travel and deliver the lord's message. years afterwards, i found myself visiting those towns and countries that i had seen in the light as i sat at home at my sewing,--places of which i had never heard. some years from this time i was sold to a presbyterian for a term of years, as he did not think it right to hold slaves for life. having served him faithfully my time out, he gave me my liberty, which was about the thirtieth year of my age. as i now lived in a neighborhood where i could attend religious meetings, occasionally i felt moved to speak a few words therein; but i shrank from it--so great was the cross to my nature. i did not speak much till i had reached my forty-second year, when it was revealed to me that the message which had been given to me i had not yet delivered, and the time had come. as i could read but little, i questioned within myself how it would be possible for me to deliver the message, when i did not understand the scriptures. whereupon i was moved to open a bible that was near me, which i did, and my eyes fell upon this passage, "gird up thy loins now like a man, and answer thou me. obey god rather than man," &c. here i fell into a great exercise of spirit, and was plunged very low. i went from one religious professor to another, enquiring of them what ailed me; but of all these i could find none who could throw any light upon such impressions. they all told me there was nothing in scripture that would sanction such exercises. it was hard for men to travel, and what would women do? these things greatly discouraged me, and shut up my way, and caused me to resist the spirit. after going to all that were accounted pious, and receiving no help, i returned to the lord, feeling that i was nothing, and knew nothing, and wrestled and prayed to the lord that he would fully reveal his will, and make the way plain. whilst i thus struggled, there seemed a light from heaven to fall upon me, which banished all my desponding fears, and i was enabled to form a new resolution to go on to prison and to death, if it might be my portion: and the lord showed me that it was his will i should be resigned to die any death that might be my lot, in carrying his message, and be entirely crucified to the world, and sacrifice _all_ to his glory that was then in my possession, which his witnesses, the holy apostles, had done before me. it was then revealed to me that the lord had given me the evidence of a clean heart, in which i could rejoice day and night, and i walked and talked with god, and my soul was illuminated with heavenly light, and i knew nothing but jesus christ, and him crucified. one day, after these things, while i was at my work, the spirit directed me to go to a poor widow, and ask her if i might have a meeting at her house, which was situated in one of the lowest and worst streets in baltimore. with great joy she gave notice, and at the time appointed i appeared there among a few coloured sisters. when they had all prayed, they called upon me to close the meeting, and i felt an impression that i must say a few words; and while i was speaking, the house seemed filled with light; and when i was about to close the meeting, and was kneeling, a man came in and stood till i arose. it proved to be a watchman. the sisters became so frightened, they all went away except the one who lived in the house, and an old woman; they both appeared to be much frightened, fearing they should receive some personal injury, or be put out of the house. a feeling of weakness came over me for a short time, but i soon grew warm and courageous in the spirit. the man then said to me, "i was sent here to break up your meeting. complaint has been made to me that the people round here cannot sleep for the racket." i replied, "a good racket is better than a bad racket. how do they rest when the ungodly are dancing and fiddling till midnight? why are not they molested by the watchmen? and why should we be for praising god, our maker? are we worthy of greater punishment for praying to him? and are we to be prohibited from doing so, that sinners may remain slumbering in their sins?" while speaking these few words i grew warm with _heavenly_ zeal, and laid my hand upon him and addressed him with gospel truth, "how do sinners sleep in hell, after slumbering in their sins here, and crying, 'let me rest, let me rest,' while sporting on the very brink of hell? is the cause of god to be destroyed for this purpose?" speaking several words more to this amount, he turned pale and trembled, and begged my pardon, acknowledging that it was not his wish to interrupt us, and that he would never disturb a religious assembly again. he then took leave of me in a comely manner and wished us success. after he was gone, i turned to the old sisters who by this time were quite cheered up. you see, said i, if the sisters had not fled, what a victory we might have had on the lord's side; for the man seemed ready to give up under conviction. if it had not been for their cowardice, we might have all bowed in prayer, and a shout of victory had been heard amongst us. our meeting gave great offence, and we were forbid holding any more assemblies. even the elders of our meeting joined with the wicked people, and said such meetings must be stopped, and that woman quieted. but i was not afraid of any of them, and continued to go, and burnt with a zeal not my own. the old sisters were zealous sometimes, and at other times would sink under the cross. thus they grew cold, at which i was much grieved. i proposed to them to ask the elders to send a brother, which was concluded upon. we went on for several years, and the lord was with us with great power it proved, to the conversion of many souls, and we continued to grow stronger. i felt at times that i must exercise in the ministry, but when i rose upon my feet i felt ashamed, and so i went under a cloud for some time, and endeavoured to keep silence; but i could not quench the spirit. i was rejected by the elders and rulers, as christ was rejected by the jews before me, and while others were excused in crimes of the darkest dye, i was hunted down in every place where i appointed a meeting. wading through many sorrows, i thought at times i might as well be banished from this life, as to feel the almighty drawing me one way, and man another; so that i was tempted to cast myself into the dock. but contemplating the length of eternity, and how long my sufferings would be in that unchangeable world, compared with this, if i endured a little longer, the lord was pleased to deliver me from this gloomy, melancholy state in his own time; though while this temptation lasted i roved up and down, and talked and prayed. i often felt that i was unfit to assemble with the congregation with whom i had gathered, and had sometimes been made to rejoice in the lord. i felt that i was despised on account of this gracious calling, and was looked upon as a speckled bird by the ministers to whom i looked for instruction, and to whom i resorted every opportunity for the same; but when i would converse with them, some would cry out, "you are an enthusiast;" and others said, "the discipline did not allow of any such division of the work;" until i began to think i surely must be wrong. under this reflection, i had another gloomy cloud to struggle through; but after awhile i felt much moved upon by the spirit of the lord, and meeting with an aged sister, i found upon conversing with her that she could sympathize with me in this spiritual work. she was the first one i had met with, who could fully understand my exercises. she offered to open her house for a meeting, and run the risk of all the church would do to her for it. many were afraid to open their houses in this way, lest they should be turned out of the church. i persevered, notwithstanding the opposition of those who were looked upon as higher and wiser. the meeting was appointed, and but few came. i felt much backwardness, and as though i could not pray, but a pressure upon me to arise and express myself by way of exhortation. after hesitating for some time whether i would take up the cross or no, i arose, and after expressing a few words, the spirit came upon me with life, and a victory was gained over the power of darkness, and we could rejoice together in his love. as for myself, i was so full i hardly knew whether i was in the body, or out of the body--so great was my joy for the victory on the lord's side. but the persecution against me increased, and a complaint was carried forward, as was done formerly against daniel, the servant of god, and the elders came out with indignation for my holding meetings contrary to discipline--being a woman. thus we see when the heart is not inspired, and the inward eye enlightened by the spirit, we are incapable of discerning the mystery of god in these things. individuals creep into the church that are unregenerate, and after they have been there awhile, they fancy that they have got the grace of god, while they are destitute of it. they may have a degree of light in their heads, but evil in their hearts; which makes them think they are qualified to be judges of the ministry, and their conceit makes them very busy in matters of religion, judging of the revelations that are given to others, while they have received none themselves. being thus mistaken, they are calculated to make a great deal of confusion in the church, and clog the true ministry. these are they who eat their own bread, and wear their own apparel, having the form of godliness, but are destitute of the power. again i felt encouraged to attend another and another appointment. at one of these meetings, some of the class-leaders were present, who were constrained to cry out, "surely the lord has _revealed_ these things to her" and asked one another if they ever heard the like? i look upon man as a very selfish being, when placed in a religious office, to presume to resist the work of the almighty; because he does not work by man's authority. i did not faint under discouragement, but pressed on. under the contemplation of these things, i slept but little, being much engaged in receiving the revelations of the divine will concerning this work, and the mysterious call thereto. i felt very unworthy and small, notwithstanding the lord had shown himself with great power, insomuch that conjecturers and critics were constrained to join in praise to his great name; for truly, we had times of refreshing from the presence of the lord. at one of the meetings, a vast number of the white inhabitants of the place, and many coloured people, attended--many no doubt from curiosity to hear what the old coloured woman had to say. one, a great scripturian, fixed himself behind the door with pen and ink, in order to take down the discourse in short-hand; but the almighty being anointed me with such a portion of his spirit, that he cast away his paper and pen, and heard the discourse with patience, and was much affected, for the lord wrought powerfully on his heart. after meeting, he came forward and offered me his hand with solemnity on his countenance, and handed me something to pay for my conveyance home. i returned, much strengthened by the lord's power, to go on to the fulfilment of his work, although i was again pressed by the authorities of the church to which i belonged, for imprudency; and so much condemned, that i was sorely tempted by the enemy to turn aside into the wilderness. i was so embarrassed and encompassed, i wondered within myself whether all that were called to be mouth piece for the lord, suffered such deep wadings as i experienced. i now found i had to travel still more extensively in the work of the ministry, and i applied to the lord for direction. i was often _invited_ to go hither and thither, but felt that i must wait for the dictates of his spirit. at a meeting which i held in maryland, i was led to speak from the passage, "woe to the rebellious city," &c. after the meeting, the people came where i was, to take me before the squire; but the lord delivered me from their hands. i also held meetings in virginia. the people there would not believe that a coloured woman could preach. and moreover, as she had no learning, they strove to imprison me because i spoke against slavery: and being brought up, they asked by what authority i spake? and if i had been ordained? i answered, not by the commission of men's hands: if the lord had ordained me, i needed nothing better. as i travelled along through the land, i was led at different times to converse with white men who were by profession ministers of the gospel. many of them, up and down, confessed they did not believe in revelation, which gave me to see that men were sent forth as ministers without christ's authority. in a conversation with one of these, he said, "you think you have these things by revelation, but there has been no such thing as revelation since christ's ascension." i asked him where the apostle john got his revelation while he was in the isle of patmos. with this, he rose up and left me, and i said in my spirit, get thee behind me satan. i visited many remote places, where there were no meeting houses, and held many glorious meetings, for the lord poured out his spirit in sweet effusions. i also travelled in canada, and visited several settlements of coloured people, and felt an open door amongst them. i may here remark, that while journeying through the different states of the union, i met with many of the quaker friends, and visited them in their families. i received much kindness and sympathy, and no opposition from them, in the prosecution of my labours. on one occasion, in a thinly settled part of the country, seeing a friend's meeting house open, i went in; at the same time a friend and his little daughter followed me. we three composed the meeting. as we sat there in silence, i felt a remarkable overshadowing of the divine presence, as much so as i ever experienced any where. toward the close, a few words seemed to be given me, which i expressed, and left the place greatly refreshed in spirit. from thence i went to michigan, where i found a wide field of labour amongst my own colour. here i remained four years. i established a school for coloured orphans, having always felt the great importance of the religious and moral _agri_culture of children, and the great need of it, especially amongst the coloured people. having white teachers, i met with much encouragement. my eighty-seventh year had now arrived, when suffering from disease, and feeling released from travelling further in my good master's cause, i came on to philadelphia, where i have remained until this time, which brings me to my ninety-seventh year. when i went forth, it was without purse or scrip,--and i have come through great tribulation and temptation--not by any might of my own, for i feel that i am but as dust and ashes before my almighty helper, who has, according to his promise, been with me and sustained me through all, and gives me now firm faith that he will be with me to the end, and, in his own good time, receive me into his everlasting rest. struggles for freedom. [illustration: (signed) yours truly, lucy a. delaney] from the darkness cometh the light or struggles for freedom. [illustration] st. louis, mo. publishing house of j. t. smith, no. 11, bridge entrance. dedication. to those who by their valor have made their name immortal, from whom we are daily learning the lessons of patriotism, in whom we respect the virtues of charity, patience and friendship as displayed towards the colored race and to those "whose deeds crowd history's pages and time's great volume make," is this little volume reverently dedicated-the grand army of the republic. preface. so many of my friends have urged me to give a short sketch of my varied life that i have consented, and herewith present it for the consideration of my readers. those who were with me in the days of slavery will appreciate these pages, for though they cannot recur with any happiness to the now "shadowy past, or renew the unrenewable," the unaccountable longing for the aged to look backward and review the events of their youth will find an answering chord in this little book. those of you who have never suffered as we have, perhaps may suppose the case, and therefore accept with interest and sympathy the passages of life and character here portrayed and the lessons which should follow from them. if there is a want of unity or coherence in this work, be charitable and attribute it to lack of knowledge and experience in literary acquirements. as this is a world of varied interests and many events, although we are each but atoms, it must be remembered, that we assist in making the grand total of all history, and therefore are excusable in making our affairs of importance to ourselves, and endeavoring to impress them on others. with this reason of my seeking your favor, i leave you to the perusal of my little tale. l. a. d. struggles for freedom. chapter i. "soon is the echo and the shadow o'er, soon, soon we lie with lid-encumbered eyes and the great fabrics that we reared before crumble to make a dust to hide who dies." in the year 18--, mr. and mrs. john woods and mr. and mrs. andrew posey lived as one family in the state of illinois. living with mrs. posey was a little negro girl, named polly crocket, who had made it her home there, in peace and happiness, for five years. on a dismal night in the month of september, polly, with four other colored persons, were kidnapped, and, after being securely bound and gagged, were put into a skiff and carried across the mississippi river to the city of st. louis. shortly after, these unfortunate negroes were taken up the missouri river and sold into slavery. polly was purchased by a farmer, thomas botts, with whom she resided for a year, when, overtaken by business reverses, he was obliged to sell all he possessed, including his negroes. among those present on the day set apart for the sale was major taylor berry, a wealthy gentleman who had travelled a long distance for the purpose of purchasing a servant girl for his wife. as was the custom, all the negroes were brought out and placed in a line, so that the buyers could examine their good points at leisure. major berry was immediately attracted by the bright and alert appearance of polly, and at once negotiated with the trader, paid the price agreed upon, and started for home to present his wife with this flesh and blood commodity, which money could so easily procure in our vaunted land of freedom. mrs. fanny berry was highly pleased with polly's manner and appearance, and concluded to make a seamstress of her. major berry had a mulatto servant, who was as handsome as an apollo, and when he and polly met each other, day after day, the natural result followed, and in a short time, with the full consent of major berry and his wife, were married. two children were the fruit of this marriage, my sister nancy and myself, lucy a. delaney. while living in franklin county, major berry became involved in a quarrel with some gentleman, and a duel was resorted to, to settle the difficulty and avenge some fancied insult. the major arranged his affairs and made his will, leaving his negroes to his wife during her life-time and at her death they were to be free; this was his expressed wish. my father accompanied major berry to new madrid, where the fatal duel was fought, and stayed by him until the end came, received his last sigh, his last words, and closed his dying eyes, and afterwards conveyed the remains of his best friend to the bereaved family with a sad heart. though sympathizing deeply with them in their affliction, my father was much disturbed as to what disposition would be made of him, and after major berry was consigned with loving hands to his last resting place, these haunting thoughts obtruded, even in his sleeping hours. a few years after, major berry's widow married robert wash, an eminent lawyer, who afterwards became judge of the supreme court. one child was born to them, who, when she grew to womanhood, became mrs. francis w. goode, whom i shall always hold in grateful remembrance as long as life lasts, and god bless her in her old age, is my fervent prayer for her kindness to me, a poor little slave girl! we lived in the old "wash" mansion some time after the marriage of the judge, until their daughter frances was born. how well i remember those happy days! slavery had no horror then for me, as i played about the place, with the same joyful freedom as the little white children. with mother, father and sister, a pleasant home and surroundings, what happier child than i! as i carelessly played away the hours, mother's smiles would fade away, and her brow contract into a heavy frown. i wondered much thereat, but the time came--ah! only too soon, when i learned the secret of her ever-changing face! chapter ii. mrs. wash lost her health, and, on the advice of a physician, went to pensacola, florida, accompanied by my mother. there she died, and her body was brought back to st. louis and there interred. after mrs. wash's death, the troubles of my parents and their children may be said to have really commenced. though in direct opposition to the will of major berry, my father's quondam master and friend, judge wash tore my father from his wife and children and sold him "way down south!" slavery! cursed slavery! what crimes has it invoked! and, oh! what retribution has a righteous god visited upon these traders in human flesh! the rivers of tears shed by us helpless ones, in captivity, were turned to lakes of blood! how often have we cried in our anguish, "oh! lord, how long, how long?" but the handwriting was on the wall, and tardy justice came at last and avenged the woes of an oppressed race! chickamauga, shiloh, atlanta and gettysburgh, spoke in thunder tones! john brown's body had indeed marched on, and we, the ransomed ones, glorify god and dedicate ourselves to his service, and acknowledge his greatness and goodness in rescuing us from such bondage as parts husband from wife, the mother from her children, aye, even the babe from her breast! major berry's daughter mary, shortly after, married h. s. cox, of philadelphia, and they went to that city to pass their honeymoon, taking my sister nancy with them as waiting-maid. when my father was sold south, my mother registered a solemn vow that her children should not continue in slavery all their lives, and she never spared an opportunity to impress it upon us, that we must get our freedom whenever the chance offered. so here was an unlooked-for avenue of escape which presented much that was favorable in carrying out her desire to see nancy a free woman. having been brought up in a free state, mother had learned much to her advantage, which would have been impossible in a slave state, and which she now proposed to turn to account for the benefit of her daughter. so mother instructed my sister not to return with mr. and mrs. cox, but to run away, as soon as chance offered, to canada, where a friend of our mother's lived who was also a runaway slave, living in freedom and happiness in toronto. as the happy couple wandered from city to city, in search of pleasure, my sister was constantly turning over in her mind various plans of escape. fortune finally favored nancy, for on their homeward trip they stopped at niagara falls for a few days. in her own words i will describe her escape: "in the morning, mr. and mrs. cox went for a drive, telling me that i could have the day to do as i pleased. the shores of canada had been tantalizing my longing gaze for some days, and i was bound to reach there long before my mistress returned. so i locked up mrs. cox's trunk and put the key under the pillow, where i was sure she would find it, and i made a strike for freedom! a servant in the hotel gave me all necessary information and even assisted me in getting away. some kind of a festival was going on, and a large crowd was marching from the rink to the river, headed by a band of music. in such a motley throng i was unnoticed, but was trembling with fear of being detected. it seemed an age before the ferry boat arrived, which at last appeared, enveloped in a gigantic wreath of black smoke. hastily i embarked, and as the boat stole away into the misty twilight and among crushing fields of ice, though the air was chill and gloomy, i felt the warmth of freedom as i neared the canada shore. i landed, without question, and found my mother's friend with but little difficulty, who assisted me to get work and support myself. not long afterwards, i married a prosperous farmer, who provided me with a happy home, where i brought my children into the world without the sin of slavery to strive against." on the return of mrs. cox to st. louis she sent for my mother and told her that nancy had run away. mother was very thankful, and in her heart arose a prayer of thanksgiving, but outwardly she pretended to be vexed and angry. oh! the impenetrable mask of these poor black creatures! how much of joy, of sorrow, of misery and anguish have they hidden from their tormentors! i was a small girl at that time, but remember how wildly mother showed her joy at nancy's escape when we were alone together. she would dance, clap her hands, and, waving them above her head, would indulge in one of those weird negro melodies, which so charm and fascinate the listener. mrs. cox commenced housekeeping on a grand and extended scale, having a large acquaintance, she entertained lavishly. my mother cared for the laundry, and i, who was living with a mrs. underhill, from new york, and was having rather good times, was compelled to go live with mrs. cox to mind the baby. my pathway was thorny enough, and though there may be no roses without thorns, i had thorns in plenty with no roses. i was beginning to plan for freedom, and was forever on the alert for a chance to escape and join my sister. i was then twelve years old, and often talked the matter over with mother and canvassed the probabilities of both of us getting away. no schemes were too wild for us to consider! mother was especially restless, because she was a free woman up to the time of her being kidnapped, so the injustice and weight of slavery bore more heavily upon her than upon me. she did not dare to talk it over with anyone for fear that they would sell her further down the river, so i was her only confidant. mother was always planning and getting ready to go, and while the fire was burning brightly, it but needed a little more provocation to add to the flames. chapter iii. mrs. cox was always very severe and exacting with my mother, and one occasion, when something did not suit her, she turned on mother like a fury, and declared, "i am just tired out with the 'white airs' you put on, and if you don't behave differently, i will make mr. cox sell you down the river at once." although mother turned grey with fear, she presented a bold front and retorted that "she didn't care, she was tired of that place, and didn't like to live there, nohow." this so infuriated mr. cox that he cried, "how dare a negro say what she liked or what she did not like; and he would show her what he should do." so, on the day following, he took my mother to an auction-room on main street and sold her to the highest bidder, for five hundred and fifty dollars. oh! god! the pity of it! "in the home of the brave and the land of the free," in the sight of the stars and stripes--that symbol of freedom--sold away from her child, to satisfy the anger of a peevish mistress! my mother returned to the house to get her few belongings, and straining me to her breast, begged me to be a good girl, that she was going to run away, and would buy me as soon as she could. with all the inborn faith of a child, i believed it most fondly, and when i heard that she had actually made her escape, three weeks after, my heart gave an exultant throb and cried, "god is good!" a large reward was offered, the bloodhounds (curse them and curse their masters) were set loose on her trail. in the day time she hid in caves and the surrounding woods, and in the night time, guided by the wondrous north star, that blessed lodestone of a slave people, my mother finally reached chicago, where she was arrested by the negro-catchers. at this time the fugitive slave law was in full operation, and it was against the law of the whole country to aid and protect an escaped slave; not even a drink of water, for the love of the master, might be given, and those who dared to do it (and there were many such brave hearts, thank god!) placed their lives in danger. the presence of bloodhounds and "nigger-catchers" in their midst, created great excitement and scandalized the community. feeling ran high and hundreds of people gathered together and declared that mother should not be returned to slavery; but fearing that mr. cox would wreak his vengeance upon me, my mother finally gave herself up to her captors, and returned to st. louis. and so the mothers of israel have been ever slain through their deepest affections! after my mother's return, she decided to sue for her freedom, and for that purpose employed a good lawyer. she had ample testimony to prove that she was kidnapped, and it was so fully verified that the jury decided that she was a free woman, and papers were made out accordingly. in the meanwhile, miss martha berry had married mr. mitchell and taken me to live with her. i had never been taught to work, as playing with the babies had been my sole occupation; therefore, when mrs. mitchell commanded me to do the weekly washing and ironing, i had no more idea how it was to be done than mrs. mitchell herself. but i made the effort to do what she required, and my failure would have been amusing had it not been so appalling. in those days filtering was unknown and the many ways of clearing water were to me an unsolved riddle. i never had to do it, so it never concerned me how the clothes were ever washed clean. as the mississippi water was even muddier than now, the results of my washing can be better imagined than described. after soaking and boiling the clothes in its earthy depths, for a couple of days, in vain attempt to get them clean, and rinsing through several waters, i found the clothes were getting darker and darker, until they nearly approximated my own color. in my despair, i frantically rushed to my mother and sobbed out my troubles on her kindly breast. so in the morning, before the white people had arisen, a friend of my mother came to the house and washed out the clothes. during all this time, mrs. mitchell was scolding vigorously, saying over and over again, "lucy, you do not want to work, you are a lazy, good-for-nothing nigger!" i was angry at being called a nigger, and replied, "you don't know nothing, yourself, about it, and you expect a poor ignorant girl to know more than you do yourself; if you had any feeling you would get somebody to teach me, and then i'd do well enough." she then gave me a wrapper to do up, and told me if i ruined that as i did the other clothes, she would whip me severely. i answered, "you have no business to whip me. i don't belong to you." my mother had so often told me that she was a free woman and that i should not die a slave, i always had a feeling of independence, which would invariably crop out in these encounters with my mistress; and when i thus spoke, saucily, i must confess, she opened her eyes in angry amazement and cried: "you _do_ belong to me, for my papa left you to me in his will, when you were a baby, and you ought to be ashamed of yourself to talk so to one that you have been raised with; now, you take that wrapper, and if you don't do it up properly, i will bring you up with a round turn." without further comment, i took the wrapper, which was too handsome to trust to an inexperienced hand, like mrs. mitchell very well knew i was, and washed it, with the same direful results as chronicled before. but i could not help it, as heaven is my witness. i was entirely and hopelessly ignorant! but of course my mistress would not believe it, and declared over and over again, that i did it on purpose to provoke her and show my defiance of her wishes. in vain did i disclaim any such intentions. she was bound to carry out her threat of whipping me. i rebelled against such government, and would not permit her to strike me; she used shovel, tongs and broomstick in vain, as i disarmed her as fast as she picked up each weapon. infuriated at her failure, my opposition and determination not to be whipped, mrs. mitchell declared she would report me to mr. mitchell and have him punish me. when her husband returned home, she immediately entered a list of complaints against me as long as the moral law, including my failure to wash her clothes properly, and her inability to break my head for it; the last indictment seemed to be the heaviest she could bring against me. i was in the shadow of the doorway as the woman raved, while mr. mitchell listened patiently until the end of his wife's grievances reached an appeal to him to whip me with the strength that a man alone could possess. then he declared, "martha, this thing of cutting up and slashing servants is something i know nothing about, and positively will not do. i don't believe in slavery, anyhow; it is a curse on this land, and i wish we were well rid of it." "mr. mitchell, i will not have that saucy baggage around this house, for if she finds you won't whip her, there will be no living with her, so you shall just sell her, and i insist upon it." "well, martha," he answered, "i found the girl with you when we were married, and as you claim her as yours, i shall not interpose any objections to the disposal of what you choose to call your property, in any manner you see fit, and i will make arrangements for selling her at once." i distinctly overheard all that was said, and was just as determined not to be sold as i was not to be whipped. my mother's lawyer had told her to caution me never to go out of the city, if, at any time, the white people wanted me to go, so i was quite settled as to my course, in case mr. mitchell undertook to sell me. several days after this conversation took place, mrs. mitchell, with her baby and nurse, lucy wash, made a visit to her grandmother's, leaving orders that i should be sold before her return; so i was not surprised to be ordered by mr. mitchell to pack up my clothes and get ready to go down the river, for i was to be sold that morning, and leave, on the steamboat alex. scott, at 3 o'clock in the afternoon. "can't i go see my mother, first?" i asked. "no," he replied, not very gently, "there is no time for that, you can see her when you come back. so hurry up and get ready, and let us have no more words about it!" how i did hate him! to hear him talk as if i were going to take a pleasure trip, when he knew that if he sold me south, as he intended, i would never see my dear mother again. however, i hastily ran up stairs and packed my trunk, but my mother's injunction, "never to go out of the city," was ever present in my mind. mr. mitchell was superintendent of indian affairs, his office being in the dwelling house, and i could hear him giving orders to his clerk, as i ran lightly down the stairs, out of the front door to the street, and with fleet foot, i skimmed the road which led to my mother's door, and, reaching it, stood trembling in every limb with terror and fatigue. i could not gain admittance, as my mother was away to work and the door was locked. a white woman, living next door, and who was always friendly to mother, told me that she would not return until night. i clasped my hands in despair and cried, "oh! the white people have sold me, and i had to run away to keep from being sent down the river." this white lady, whose name i am sorry i cannot remember, sympathized with me, as she knew my mother's story and had written many letters for her, so she offered me the key of her house, which, fortunately, fitted my mother's door, and i was soon inside, cowering with fear in the darkness, magnifying every noise and every passing wind, until my imagination had almost converted the little cottage into a boat, and i was steaming down south, away from my mother, as fast as i could go. late at night mother returned, and was told all that had happened, and after getting supper, she took me to a friend's house for concealment, until the next day. as soon as mr. mitchell had discovered my unlooked-for departure, he was furious, for he did not think i had sense enough to run away; he accused the coachman of helping me off, and, despite the poor man's denials, hurried him away to the calaboose and put him under the lash, in order to force a confession. finding this course unavailing, he offered a reward to the negro catchers, on the same evening, but their efforts were equally fruitless. chapter iv. on the morning of the 8th of september, 1842, my mother sued mr. d. d. mitchell for the possession of her child, lucy ann berry. my mother, accompanied by the sheriff, took me from my hiding-place and conveyed me to the jail, which was located on sixth street, between chestnut and market, where the laclede hotel now stands, and there met mr. mitchell, with mr. h. s. cox, his brother-in-law. judge bryant mullanphy read the law to mr. mitchell, which stated that if mr. mitchell took me back to his house, he must give bond and security to the amount of two thousand dollars, and furthermore, i should not be taken out of the state of missouri until i had a chance to prove my freedom. mr. h. s. cox became his security and mr. mitchell gave bond accordingly, and then demanded that i should be put in jail. "why do you want to put that poor young girl in jail?" demanded my lawyer. "because," he retorted, "her mother or some of her crew might run her off, just to make me pay the two thousand dollars; and i would like to see her lawyer, or any other man, in jail, that would take up a d---nigger case like that." "you need not think, mr. mitchell," calmly replied mr. murdock, "because my client is colored that she has no rights, and can be cheated out of her freedom. she is just as free as you are, and the court will so decide it, as you will see." however, i was put in a cell, under lock and key, and there remained for seventeen long and dreary months, listening to the "----foreign echoes from the street, faint sounds of revel, traffic, conflict keen- and, thinking that man's reiterated feet have gone such ways since e'er the world has been, i wondered how each oft-used tone and glance retains its might and old significance." my only crime was seeking for that freedom which was my birthright! i heard mr. mitchell tell his wife that he did not believe in slavery, yet, through his instrumentality, i was shut away from the sunlight, because he was determined to prove me a slave, and thus keep me in bondage. consistency, thou art a jewel! at the time my mother entered suit for her freedom, she was not instructed to mention her two children, nancy and lucy, so the white people took advantage of this flaw, and showed a determination to use every means in their power to prove that i was not her child. this gave my mother an immense amount of trouble, but she had girded up her loins for the fight, and, knowing that she was right, was resolved, by the help of god and a good lawyer, to win my case against all opposition. after advice by competent persons, mother went to judge edward bates and begged him to plead the case, and, after fully considering the proofs and learning that my mother was a poor woman, he consented to undertake the case and make his charges only sufficient to cover his expenses. it would be well here to give a brief sketch of judge bates, as many people wondered that such a distinguished statesman would take up the case of an obscure negro girl. edward bates was born in belmont, goochland county, va., september, 1793. he was of quaker descent, and inherited all the virtues of that peace-loving people. in 1812, he received a midshipman's warrant, and was only prevented from following the sea by the influence of his mother, to whom he was greatly attached. edward emigrated to missouri in 1814, and entered upon the practice of law, and, in 1816, was appointed prosecuting lawyer for the st. louis circuit. toward the close of the same year, he was appointed attorney general for the new state of missouri, and in 1826, while yet a young man, was elected representative to congress as an anti-democrat, and served one term. for the following twenty-five years, he devoted himself to his profession, in which he was a shining light. his probity and uprightness attracted to him a class of people who were in the right and only sought justice, while he repelled, by his virtues, those who traffic in the miseries or mistakes of unfortunate people, for they dared not come to him and seek counsel to aid them in their villainy. in 1847, mr. bates was delegate to the convention for internal improvement, held in chicago, and by his action he came prominently before the whole country. in 1850, president fillmore offered him the portfolio of secretary of war, which he declined. three years later, he accepted the office of judge of st. louis land court. when the question of the repeal of the missouri compromise was agitated, he earnestly opposed it, and thus became identified with the "free labor" party in missouri, and united with it, in opposition to the admission of kansas under the lecompton constitution. he afterwards became a prominent anti-slavery man, and in 1859 was mentioned as a candidate for the presidency. he was warmly supported by his own state, and for a time it seemed that the opposition to governor seward might concentrate on him. in the national republican convention, 1860, he received forty-eight votes on the first ballot, but when it became apparent that abraham lincoln was the favorite, mr. bates withdrew his name. mr. lincoln appointed judge bates attorney general, and while in the cabinet he acted a dignified, safe and faithful part. in 1864, he resigned his office and returned to his home in st. louis, where he died in 1869, surrounded by his weeping family. "----loved at home, revered abroad. princes and lords are but the breath of kings, 'an honest man's the noblest work of god.'" on the 7th of february, 1844, the suit for my freedom began. a bright, sunny day, a day which the happy and care-free would drink in with a keen sense of enjoyment. but my heart was full of bitterness; i could see only gloom which seemed to deepen and gather closer to me as i neared the courtroom. the jailer's sister-in-law, mrs. lacy, spoke to me of submission and patience; but i could not feel anything but rebellion against my lot. i could not see one gleam of brightness in my future, as i was hurried on to hear my fate decided. among the most important witnesses were judge robert wash and mr. harry douglas, who had been an overseer on judge wash's farm, and also mr. mackeon, who bought my mother from h. s. cox, just previous to her running away. judge wash testified that "the defendant, lucy a. berry, was a mere infant when he came in possession of mrs. fannie berry's estate, and that he often saw the child in the care of its reputed mother, polly, and to his best knowledge and belief, he thought lucy a. berry was polly's own child." mr. douglas and mr. mackeon corroborated judge wash's statement. after the evidence from both sides was all in, mr. mitchell's lawyer, thomas hutchinson, commenced to plead. for one hour, he talked so bitterly against me and against my being in possession of my liberty that i was trembling, as if with ague, for i certainly thought everybody must believe him; indeed i almost believed the dreadful things he said, myself, and as i listened i closed my eyes with sickening dread, for i could just see myself floating down the river, and my heart-throbs seemed to be the throbs of the mighty engine which propelled me from my mother and freedom forever! oh! what a relief it was to me when he finally finished his harangue and resumed his seat! as i never heard anyone plead before, i was very much alarmed, although i knew in my heart that every word he uttered was a lie! yet, how was i to make people believe? it seemed a puzzling question! judge bates arose, and his soulful eloquence and earnest pleading made such an impression on my sore heart, i listened with renewed hope. i felt the black storm clouds of doubt and despair were fading away, and that i was drifting into the safe harbor of the realms of truth. i felt as if everybody _must_ believe _him_, for he clung to the truth, and i wondered how mr. hutchinson could so lie about a poor defenseless girl like me. judge bates chained his hearers with the graphic history of my mother's life, from the time she played on illinois banks, through her trials in slavery, her separation from her husband, her efforts to become free, her voluntary return to slavery for the sake of her child, lucy, and her subsequent efforts in securing her own freedom. all these incidents he lingered over step by step, and concluding, he said: "gentlemen of the jury, i am a slave-holder myself, but, thanks to the almighty god, i am above the base principle of holding anybody a slave that has as good right to her freedom as this girl has been proven to have; she was free before she was born; her mother was free, but kidnapped in her youth, and sacrificed to the greed of negro traders, and no free woman can give birth to a slave child, as it is in direct violation of the laws of god and man!" at this juncture he read the affidavit of mr. a. posey, with whom my mother lived at the time of her abduction; also affidavits of mr. and mrs. woods, in corroboration of the previous facts duly set forth. judge bates then said: "gentlemen of the jury, here i rest this case, as i would not want any better evidence for one of my own children. the testimony of judge wash is alone sufficient to substantiate the claim of polly crockett berry to the defendant as being her own child." the case was then submitted to the jury, about 8 o'clock in the evening, and i was returned to the jail and locked in the cell which i had occupied for seventeen months, filled with the most intense anguish. chapter v. "there's a joy in every sorrow, there's a relief from every pain; though to-day 'tis dark to-morrow he will turn all bright again." before the sheriff bade me good night he told me to be in readiness at nine o'clock on the following morning to accompany him back to court to hear the verdict. my mother was not at the trial. she had lingered many days about the jail expecting my case would be called, and finally when called to trial the dear, faithful heart was not present to sustain me during that dreadful speech of mr. hutchinson. all night long i suffered agonies of fright, the suspense was something awful, and could only be comprehended by those who have gone through some similar ordeal. i had missed the consolation of my mother's presence, and i felt so hopeless and alone! blessed mother! how she clung and fought for me. no work was too hard for her to undertake. others would have flinched before the obstacles which confronted her, but undauntedly she pursued her way, until my freedom was established by every right and without a questioning doubt! on the morning of my return to court, i was utterly unable to help myself. i was so overcome with fright and emotion,--with the alternating feelings of despair and hope--that i could not stand still long enough to dress myself. i trembled like an aspen leaf; so i sent a message to mrs. lacy to request permission for me to go to her room, that she might assist me in dressing. i had done a great deal of sewing for mrs. lacy, for she had showed me much kindness, and was a good christian. she gladly assisted me, and under her willing hands i was soon made ready, and, promptly at nine o'clock, the sheriff called and escorted me to the courthouse. on our way thither, judge bates overtook us. he lived out a short distance in the country, and was riding on horseback. he tipped his hat to me as politely as if i were the finest lady in the land, and cried out, "good morning miss lucy, i suppose you had pleasant dreams last night!" he seemed so bright and smiling that i was imbued with renewed hope; and when he addressed the sheriff with "good morning sir. i don't suppose the jury was out twenty minutes were they?" and the sheriff replied "oh! no, sir," my heart gave a leap, for i was sure that my fate was decided for weal or woe. i watched the judge until he turned the corner and desiring to be relieved of suspense from my pent-up anxiety, i eagerly asked the sheriff if i were free, but he gruffly answered that "he didn't know." i was sure he did know, but was too mean to tell me. how could he have been so flinty, when he must have seen how worried i was. at last the courthouse was reached and i had taken my seat in such a condition of helpless terror that i could not tell one person from another. friends and foes were as one, and vainly did i try to distinguish them. my long confinement, burdened with harrowing anxiety, the sleepless night i had just spent, the unaccountable absence of my mother, had brought me to an indescribable condition. i felt dazed, as if i were no longer myself. i seemed to be another person--an on-looker--and in my heart dwelt a pity for the poor, lonely girl, with down-cast face, sitting on the bench apart from anyone else in that noisy room. i found myself wondering where lucy's mother was, and how she would feel if the trial went against her; i seemed to have lost all feeling about it, but was speculating what lucy would do, and what her mother would do, if the hand of fate was raised against poor lucy! oh! how sorry i did feel for myself! at the sound of a gentle voice, i gathered courage to look upward, and caught the kindly gleam of judge bates' eyes, as he bent his gaze upon me and smilingly said, "i will have you discharged in a few minutes, miss lucy!" some other business occupied the attention of the court, and when i had begun to think they had forgotten all about me, judge bates arose and said calmly, "your honor, i desire to have this girl, lucy a. berry, discharged before going into any other business." judge mullanphy answered "certainly!" then the verdict was called for and rendered, and the jurymen resumed their places. mr. mitchell's lawyer jumped up and exclaimed: "your honor, my client demands that this girl be remanded to jail. he does not consider that the case has had a fair trial, i am not informed as to what course he intends to pursue, but i am now expressing his present wishes?" judge bates was on his feet in a second and cried: "for shame! is it not enough that this girl has been deprived of her liberty for a year and a half, that you must still pursue her after a fair and impartial trial before a jury, in which it was clearly proven and decided that she had every right to freedom? i demand that she be set at liberty at once!" "i agree with judge bates," responded judge mullanphy, "and the girl may go!" oh! the overflowing thankfulness of my grateful heart at that moment, who could picture it? none but the good god above us! i could have kissed the feet of my deliverers, but i was too full to express my thanks, but with a voice trembling with tears i tried to thank judge bates for all his kindness. as soon as possible, i returned to the jail to bid them all good-bye and thank them for their good treatment of me while under their care. they rejoiced with me in my good fortune and wished me much success and happiness in years to come. i was much concerned at my mother's prolonged absence, and was deeply anxious to meet her and sob out my joy on her faithful bosom. surely it was the hands of god which prevented mother's presence at the trial, for broken down with anxiety and loss of sleep on my account, the revulsion of feeling would have been greater than her over-wrought heart could have sustained. as soon as she heard of the result, she hurried to meet me, and hand in hand we gazed into each other's eyes and saw the light of freedom there, and we felt in our hearts that we could with one accord cry out: "glory to god in the highest, and peace and good will towards men." dear, dear mother! how solemnly i invoke your spirit as i review these trying scenes of my girlhood, so long agone! your patient face and neatly-dressed figure stands ever in the foreground of that checkered time; a figure showing naught to an on-looker but the common place virtues of an honest woman! never would an ordinary observer connect those virtues with aught of heroism or greatness, but to me they are as bright rays as ever emanated from the lives of the great ones of earth, which are portrayed on historic pages--to me, the qualities of her true, steadfast heart and noble soul become "a constellation, and is tracked in heaven straightway." chapter vi. after the trial was over and my mother had at last been awarded the right to own her own child, her next thought reverted to sister nancy, who had been gone so long, and from whom we had never heard, and the greatest ambition mother now had was to see her child nancy. so, we earnestly set ourselves to work to reach the desired end, which was to visit canada and seek the long-lost girl. my mother being a first-class laundress, and myself an expert seamstress, it was easy to procure all the work we could do, and command our own prices. we found, as well as the whites, a great difference between slave and free labor, for while the first was compulsory, and, therefore, at the best, perfunctory, the latter must be superior in order to create a demand, and realizing this fully, mother and i expended the utmost care in our respective callings, and were well rewarded for our efforts. by exercising rigid economy and much self-denial, we, at last, accumulated sufficient to enable mother to start for canada, and oh! how rejoiced i was when that dear, overworked mother approached the time, when her hard-earned and long-deferred holiday was about to begin. the uses of adversity is a worn theme, and in it there is much of weak cant, but when it is considered how much of sacrifice the poverty-stricken must bear in order to procure the slightest gratification, should it not impress the thinking mind with amazement, how much of fortitude and patience the honest poor display in the exercise of self-denial! oh! ye prosperous! prate of the uses of adversity as poetically as you please, we who are obliged to learn of them by bitter experience would greatly prefer a change of surroundings. mother arrived in toronto two weeks after she left st. louis, and surprised my sister nancy, in a pleasant home. she had married a prosperous farmer, who owned the farm on which they lived, as well as some property in the city near-by. mother was indescribably happy in finding her child so pleasantly situated, and took much pleasure with her bright little grandchildren; and after a long visit, returned home, although strongly urged to remain the rest of her life with nancy; but old people are like old trees, uproot them, and transplant to other scenes, they droop and die, no matter how bright the sunshine, or how balmy the breezes. on her return, mother found me with mrs. elsie thomas, where i had lived during her absence, still sewing for a livelihood. those were the days in which sewing machines were unknown, and no stitching or sewing of any description was allowed to pass muster, unless each stitch looked as if it were a part of the cloth. the art of fine sewing was lost when sewing machines were invented, and though doubtless they have given women more leisure, they have destroyed that extreme neatness in the craft, which obtained in the days of long ago. time passed happily on with us, with no event to ruffle life's peaceful stream, until 1845, when i met frederick turner, and in a few short months we were made man and wife. after our marriage, we removed to quincy, ill., but our happiness was of short duration, as my husband was killed in the explosion of the steamboat edward bates, on which he was employed. to my mind it seemed a singular coincidence that the boat which bore the name of the great and good man, who had given me the first joy of my meagre life--the precious boon of freedom--and that his namesake should be the means of weighting me with my first great sorrow; this thought seemed to reconcile me to my grief, for that name was ever sacred, and i could not speak it without reverence. the number of killed and wounded were many, and they were distributed among friends and hospitals; my husband was carried to a friend's, where he breathed his last. telegraphs were wanting in those times, so days passed before this wretched piece of news reached me, and there being no railroads, and many delays, i reached the home of my friend only to be told that my husband was dead and buried. intense grief was mine, and my repining worried mother greatly; she never believed in fretting about anything that could not be helped. my only consolation from her was, "'cast your burden on the lord.' _my_ husband is down south, and i don't know where he is; he may be dead; he may be alive; he may be happy and comfortable; he may be kicked, abused and half-starved. _your_ husband, honey, is in heaven; and mine--god only knows where he is!" in those few words, i knew her burden was heavier than mine, for i had been taught that there was hope beyond the grave, but hope was left behind when sold "down souf"; and so i resolved to conceal my grief, and devote myself to my mother, who had done so much and suffered so much for me. we then returned to st. louis, and took up the old life, minus the contentment which had always buoyed us up in our daily trials, and with an added sorrow which cast a sadness over us. but time, the great healer, taught us patience and resignation, and once more we were "waiting when fortune sheds brightly her smile, there always is something to wait for the while." chapter vii. four years afterward, i became the wife of zachariah delaney, of cincinnati, with whom i have had a happy married life, continuing forty-two years. four children were born to us, and many were the plans we mapped out for their future, but two of our little girls were called from us while still in their childhood. my remaining daughter attained the age of twenty-two years, and left life behind, while the brightest of prospects was hers, and my son, in the fullness of a promising youth, at the age of twenty-four, "turned his face to the wall." so my cup of bitterness was full to the brim and overflowing; yet one consolation was always mine! our children were born free and died free! their childhood and my maternity were never shadowed with a thought of separation. the grim reaper did not spare them, but they were as "treasures laid up in heaven." such a separation one could accept from the hand of god, with humble submission, "for he calleth his own!" mother always made her home with me until the day of her death; she had lived to see the joyful time when her race was made free, their chains struck off, and their right to their own flesh and blood lawfully acknowledged. her life, so full of sorrow, was ended, full of years and surrounded by many friends, both black and white, who recognized and appreciated her sufferings and sacrifices and rejoiced that her old age was spent in freedom and plenty. the azure vault of heaven bends over us all, and the gleaming moonlight brightens the marble tablet which marks her last resting place, "to fame and fortune unknown," but in the eyes of him who judgeth us, hers was a heroism which outvied the most famous. * * * * * i frequently thought of father, and wondered if he were alive or dead; and at the time of the great exodus of negroes from the south, a few years ago, a large number arrived in st. louis, and were cared for by the colored people of that city. they were sheltered in churches, halls and private houses, until such time as they could pursue their journey. methought, i will find him in this motley crowd, of all ages, from the crowing babe in its mother's arms, to the aged and decrepit, on whom the marks of slavery were still visible. i piled inquiry upon inquiry, until after long and persistent search, i learned that my father had always lived on the same plantation, fifteen miles from vicksburg. i wrote to my father and begged him to come and see me and make his home with me; sent him the money, so he would be to no expense, and when he finally reached st. louis, it was with great joy that i received him. old, grizzled and gray, time had dealt hardly with him, and he looked very little like the dapper master's valet, whose dark beauty won my mother's heart. forty-five years of separation, hard work, rough times and heart longings, had perseveringly performed its work, and instead of a man bearing his years with upright vigor, he was made prematurely old by the accumulation of troubles. my sister nancy came from canada, and we had a most joyful reunion, and only the absence of our mother left a vacuum, which we deeply and sorrowfully felt. father could not be persuaded to stay with us, when he found his wife dead; he longed to get back to his old associations of forty-five years standing, he felt like a stranger in a strange land, and taking pity on him, i urged him no more, but let him go, though with great reluctance. * * * * * there are abounding in public and private libraries of all sorts, lives of people which fill our minds with amazement, admiration, sympathy, and indeed with as many feelings as there are people, so i can scarcely expect that the reader of these episodes of my life will meet with more than a passing interest, but as such i will commend it to your thought for a brief hour. to be sure, i am deeply sensible that this story, as written, is not a very striking performance, but i have brought you with me face to face with but only a few of the painful facts engendered by slavery, and the rest can be drawn from history. just have patience a little longer, and i have done. i became a member of the methodist episcopal church in 1855; was elected president of the first colored society, called the "female union," which was the first ever organized exclusively for women; was elected president of a society known as the "daughters of zion"; was matron of "siloam court," no. 2, three years in succession; was most ancient matron of the "grand court of missouri," of which only the wives of masons are allowed to become members. i am at present, past grand chief preceptress of the "daughters of the tabernacle and knights of tabor," and also was secretary, and am still a member, of col. shaw woman's relief corps, no. 34, auxiliary to the col. shaw post, 343, grand army of the republic. considering the limited advantages offered me, i have made the best use of my time, and what few talents the lord has bestowed on me i have not "hidden in a napkin," but used them for his glory and to benefit those for whom i live. and what better can we do than to live for others? except the deceitfulness of riches, nothing is so illusory as the supposition of interest we assume that our readers may feel in our affairs; but if this sketch is taken up for just a moment of your life, it may settle the problem in your mind, if not in others, "can the negro race succeed, proportionately, as well as the whites, if given the same chance and an equal start?" "the hours are growing shorter for the millions who are toiling; and the homes are growing better for the millions yet to be; and we all shall learn the lesson, how that waste and sin are spoiling the fairest and the finest of a grand humanity. it is coming! it is coming! and men's thoughts are growing deeper; they are giving of their millions as they never gave before; they are learning the new gospel; man must be his brother's keeper, and right, not might, shall triumph, and the selfish rule no more." finis. * * * * * =transcriber's notes= spelling variations have been retained for: chapter i, page 10: polly crocket (living with mrs. posey was a little negro girl, named polly crocket, who had made it her home there, in peace and happiness, for five years.) chapter iv, page 43: polly crockett berry (the testimony of judge wash is alone sufficient to substantiate the claim of polly crockett berry to the defendant as being her own child.) other minor typographical and punctuation errors have been corrected from the original to reflect the author's intent. the story of mattie j. jackson; her parentage--experience of eighteen years in slavery--incidents during the war--her escape from slavery. a true story. written and arranged by dr. l. s. thompson, (formerly mrs. schuyler,) as given by mattie. lawrence: printed at sentinel office, 123 essex street. 1866. preface the object in publishing this book is to gain sympathy from the earnest friends of those who have been bound down by a dominant race in circumstances over which they had no control--a butt of ridicule and a mark of oppression; over whom weary ages of degradation have passed. as the links have been broken and the shackles fallen from them through the unwearied efforts of our beloved martyr president lincoln, as one i feel it a duty to improve the mind, and have ever had a thirst for education to fill that vacuum for which the soul has ever yearned since my earliest remembrance. thus i ask you to buy my little book to aid me in obtaining an education, that i may be enabled to do some good in behalf of the elevation of my emancipated brothers and sisters. i have now arrived at the age of twenty. as the first dawn of morning has passed, and the meridian of life is approaching, i know of no other way to speedily gain my object than through the aid and patronage of the friends of humanity. * * * * * note: miss jackson sustains a high moral character--has been much respected since she has been in lawrence. she is from st. louis, missouri, and arrived here on the 11th of april, 1866. to gain the wish of the heart is utterly impossible without more means than she can obtain otherwise. her friends have borne her expenses to lawrence, and have and are still willing to render her aid as far their limited means will allow. she was in the same condition of all the neglected and oppressed. her personal requirements are amply supplied. she now only craves the means to clothe and qualify the intellect. my humble prayer is that she may meet with unlimited success. this young lady is highly worthy of all the aid our kind friends feel a duty to bestow upon her. she purposes lecturing and relating her story; and i trust she may render due satisfaction and bear some humble part in removing doubts indulged by the prejudices against the natural genius and talent of our race. may god give her grace and speed her on her way. respectfully yours, l. s. t. mattie's story my ancestors were transported from africa to america at the time the slave trade flourished in the eastern states. i cannot give dates, as my progenitors, being slaves, had no means of keeping them. by all accounts my great grandfather was captured and brought from africa. his original name i never learned. his master's name was jackson, and he resided in the state of new york. my grandfather was born in the same state, and also remained a slave for some length of time, when he was emancipated, his master presenting him with quite an amount of property. he was true, honest and responsible, and this present was given him as a reward. he was much encouraged by the cheering prospect of better days. a better condition of things now presented itself. as he possessed a large share of confidence, he came to the conclusion, as he was free, that he was capable of selecting his own residence and manage his own affairs with prudence and economy. but, alas, his hopes were soon blighted. more heart rending sorrow and degradation awaited him. he was earnestly invited by a white decoyer to relinquish his former design and accompany him to missouri and join him in speculation and become wealthy. as partners, they embarked on board a schooner for st. charles, mo. on the passage, my grandfather was seized with a fever, and for a while was totally unconscious. when he regained his reason he found himself, near his journey's end, divested of his free papers and all others. on his arrival at st. charles he was seized by a huge, surly looking slaveholder who claimed him as his property. the contract had previously been concluded by his judas-like friend, who had received the bounty. oh, what a sad disappointment. after serving for thirty years to be thrust again into bondage where a deeper degradation and sorrow and hopeless toil were to be his portion for the remaining years of his existence. in deep despair and overwhelmed with grief, he made his escape to the woods, determined to put an end to his sorrows by perishing with cold and hunger. his master immediately pursued him, and in twenty-four hours found him with hands and feet frost-bitten, in consequence of which he lost the use of his fingers and toes, and was thenceforth of little use to his new master. he remained with him, however, and married a woman in the same station in life. they lived as happily as their circumstances would permit. as providence allotted, they only had one son, which was my father, westly jackson. he had a deep affection for his family, which the slave ever cherishes for his dear ones. he had no other link to fasten him to the human family but his fervent love for those who were bound to him by love and sympathy in their wrongs and sufferings. my grandfather remained in the same family until his death. my father, westly jackson, married, at the age of twenty-two, a girl owned by james harris, named ellen turner. nothing of importance occurred until three years after their marriage, when her master, harris failed through the extravagance and mismanagement of his wife, who was a great spendthrift and a dreaded terror to the poor slaves and all others with whom she associated in common circumstances, consequently the entire stock was sold by the sheriff to a trader residing in virginia. on account of the good reputation my mother sustained as a worthy servant and excellent cook, a tyrannical and much dreaded slaveholder watched for an opportunity to purchase her, but fortunately arrived a few moments too late, and she was bid off in too poor a condition of health to remain long a subject of banter and speculation. her husband was allowed to carefully lift her down from the block and accompany her to her new master's, charles canory, who treated her very kindly while she remained in his family. mr. canory resided in st. charles county for five years after he purchased my mother. during that time my father and mother were in the same neighborhood, but a short distance from each other. but another trial awaited them. her master removed twenty miles away to a village called bremen, near st. louis, mo. my father, thereafter, visited my mother once a week, walking the distance every saturday evening and returning on sunday evening. but through all her trials and deprivations her trust and confidence was in him who rescued his faithful followers from the fiery furnace and the lion's den, and led moses through the red sea. her trust and confidence was in jesus. she relied on his precious promises, and ever found him a present help in every time of need. two years after this separation my father was sold and separated from us, but previous to his delivery to his new master he made his escape to a free state. my mother was then left with two children. she had three during the time they were permitted to remain together, and buried one. their names were sarah ann, mattie jane and esther j. when my father left i was about three years of age, yet i can well remember the little kindnesses my father used to bestow upon us, and the deep affection and fondness he manifested for us. i shall never forget the bitter anguish of my parents' hearts, the sighs they uttered or the profusion of tears which coursed down their sable cheeks. o, what a horrid scene, but he was not her's, for cruel hands had separated them. the strongest tie of earthly joy that bound the aching heart- his love was e'er a joyous light that o'er the pathway shone- a fountain gushing ever new amid life's desert wild- his slightest word was a sweet tone of music round her heart- their lives a streamlet blent in one. o, father, must they part? they tore him from her circling arms, her last and fond embrace- o never again can her sad eyes gaze upon his mournful face. it is not strange these bitter sighs are constant bursting forth. amid mirth and glee and revelry she never took a part, she was a mother left alone with sorrow in her heart. but my mother was conscious some time previous of the change that was to take place with my father, and if he was sold in the immediate vicinity he would be likely to be sold again at their will, and she concluded to assist him to make his escape from bondage. though the parting was painful, it afforded her solace in the contemplation of her husband becoming a free man, and cherishing a hope that her little family, through the aid of some angel of mercy, might be enabled to make their escape also, and meet to part no more on earth. my father came to spend the night with us, according to his usual custom. it was the last time, and sadness brooded upon his brow. it was the only opportunity he had to make his escape without suspicion and detection, as he was immediately to fall into the hands of a new master. he had never been sold from the place of his birth before, and was determined never to be sold again if god would verify his promise. my father was not educated, but was a preacher, and administered the word of god according to the dictation and revelation of the spirit. his former master had allowed him the privilege of holding meetings in the village within the limits of his pass on the sundays when he visited my mother. but on this saturday evening he arrived and gave us all his farewell kiss, and hurried away. my mother's people were aware of my father's intention, but rather than spare my mother, and for fear she might be detected, they secreted his escape. his master called a number of times and enquired for him and strongly pressed my mother to give him an account of my father, but she never gave it. we waited patiently, hoping to learn if he succeeded in gaining his freedom. many anxious weeks and months passed before we could get any tidings from him, until at length my mother heard that he was in chicago, a free man and preaching the gospel. he made every effort to get his family, but all in vain. the spirit of slavery so strongly existed that letters could not reach her; they were all destroyed. my parents had never learned the rescuing scheme of the underground railroad which had borne so many thousands to the standard of freedom and victories. they knew no other resource than to depend upon their own chance in running away and secreting themselves. if caught they were in a worse condition than before. their attempt to make their escape two years after my father's departure, my mother, with her two children, my sister and myself, attempted to make her escape. after traveling two days we reached illinois. we slept in the woods at night. i believe my mother had food to supply us but fasted herself. but the advertisement had reached there before us, and loafers were already in search of us, and as soon as we were discovered on the brink of the river one of the spies made enquiries respecting her suspicious appearance. she was aware that she was arrested, consequently she gave a true account of herself--that she was in search of her husband. we were then destitute of any articles of clothing excepting our wearing apparel. mother had become so weary that she was compelled to leave our package of clothing on the way. we were taken back to st. louis and committed to prison and remained there one week, after which they put us in linch's trader's yard, where we remained about four weeks. we were then sold to william lewis. mr. lewis was a very severe master, and inflicted such punishment upon us as he thought proper. however, i only remember one severe contest mr. lewis had with my mother. for some slight offence mrs. lewis became offended and was tartly and loudly reprimanding her, when mr. l. came in and rashly felled her to the floor with his fist. but his wife was constantly pulling our ears, snapping us with her thimble, rapping us on the head and sides of it. it appeared impossible to please her. when we first went to mr. l.'s they had a cowhide which she used to inflict on a little slave girl she previously owned, nearly every night. this was done to learn the little girl to wake early to wait on her children. but my mother was a cook, as i before stated, and was in the habit of roasting meats and toasting bread. as they stinted us for food my mother roasted the cowhide. it was rather poor picking, but it was the last cowhide my mother ever had an opportunity to cook while we remained in his family. mr. l. soon moved about six miles from the city, and entered in partnership with his brother-in-law. the servants were then divided and distributed in both families. it unfortunately fell to my lot to live with mrs. larry, my mistress' sister, which rendered my condition worse than the first. my master even disapproved of my ill treatment and took me to another place; the place my mother resided before my father's escape. after a short time mr. lewis again returned to the city. my mother still remained as cook in his family. after six years' absence of my father my mother married again a man by the name of george brown, and lived with her second husband about four years, and had two children, when he was sold for requesting a different kind and enough food. his master considered it a great insult, and declared he would sell him. but previous to this insult, as he called it, my step-father was foreman in mr. l.'s tobacco factory. he was trusty and of good moral habits, and was calculated to bring the highest price in the human market; therefore the excuse to sell him for the above offence was only a plot. the morning this offence occurred, mr. l. bid my father to remain in the kitchen till he had taken his breakfast. after pulling his ears and slapping his face bade him come to the factory; but instead of going to the factory he went to canada. thus my poor mother was again left alone with two more children added to her misery and sorrow to toil on her weary pilgrimage. racked with agony and pain she was left alone again, with a purpose nought could move and the zeal of woman's love, down she knelt in agony to ask the lord to clear the way. true she said o gracious lord, true and faithful is thy word; but the humblest, poorest, may eat the crumbs they cast away. though nine long years had passed without one glimmering light of day she never did forget to pray and has not yet though whips and chains are cast away. for thus said the blessed lord, i will verify my word; by the faith that has not failed, thou hast asked and shall prevail. we remained but a short time at the same residence when mr. lewis moved again to the country. soon after, my little brother was taken sick in consequence of being confined in a box in which my mother was obliged to keep him. if permitted to creep around the floor her mistress thought it would take too much time to attend to him. he was two years old and never walked. his limbs were perfectly paralyzed for want of exercise. we now saw him gradually failing, but was not allowed to render him due attention. even the morning he died she was compelled to attend to her usual work. she watched over him for three months by night and attended to her domestic affairs by day. the night previous to his death we were aware he could not survive through the approaching day, but it made no impression on my mistress until she came into the kitchen and saw his life fast ebbing away, then she put on a sad countenance for fear of being exposed, and told my mother to take the child to her room, where he only lived one hour. when she found he was dead she ordered grave clothes to be brought and gave my mother time to bury him. o that morning, that solemn morning. it appears to me that when that little spirit departed as though all heaven rejoiced and angels veiled their faces. my mother too in concert joined,- her mingled praise with them combined. her little saint had gone to god who saved him with his precious blood. who said "suffer little children to come unto me and forbid them not." the soldiers, and our treatment during the war soon after the war commenced the rebel soldiers encamped near mr. lewis' residence, and remained there one week. they were then ordered by general lyons to surrender, but they refused. there were seven thousand union and seven hundred rebel soldiers. the union soldiers surrounded the camp and took them and exhibited them through the city and then confined them in prison. i told my mistress that the union soldiers were coming to take the camp. she replied that it was false, that it was general kelly coming to re-enforce gen. frost. in a few moments the alarm was heard. i told mrs. l. the unionists had fired upon the rebels. she replied it was only the salute of gen. kelly. at night her husband came home with the news that camp jackson was taken and all the soldiers prisoners. mrs. lewis asked how the union soldiers could take seven hundred men when they only numbered the same. mr. l. replied they had seven thousand. she was much astonished, and cast her eye around to us for fear we might hear her. her suspicion was correct; there was not a word passed that escaped our listening ears. my mother and myself could read enough to make out the news in the papers. the union soldiers took much delight in tossing a paper over the fence to us. it aggravated my mistress very much. my mother used to sit up nights and read to keep posted about the war. in a few days my mistress came down to the kitchen again with another bitter complaint that it was a sad affair that the unionists had taken their delicate citizens who had enlisted and made prisoners of them--that they were babes. my mother reminded her of taking fort sumpter and major anderson and serving them the same and that turn about was fair play. she then hastened to her room with the speed of a deer, nearly unhinging every door in her flight, replying as she went that the niggers and yankees were seeking to take the country. one day, after she had visited the kitchen to superintend some domestic affairs, as she pretended, she became very angry without a word being passed, and said--"i think it has come to a pretty pass, that old lincoln, with his long legs, an old rail splitter, wishes to put the niggers on an equality with the whites; that her children should never be on an equal footing with a nigger. she had rather see them dead." as my mother made no reply to her remarks, she stopped talking, and commenced venting her spite on my companion servant. on one occasion mr. lewis searched my mother's room and found a picture of president lincoln, cut from a newspaper, hanging in her room. he asked her what she was doing with old lincoln's picture. she replied it was there because she liked it. he then knocked her down three times, and sent her to the trader's yard for a month as punishment. my mistress indulged some hopes till the victory of new orleans, when she heard the famous union song sang to the tune of yankee doodle: the rebels swore that new orleans never should be taken, but if the yankees came so near they should not save their bacon. that's the way they blustered when they thought they were so handy, but farragut steamed up one day and gave them doodle dandy. ben butler then was ordered down to regulate the city; he made the rebels walk a chalk, and was not that a pity? that's the way to serve them out--that's the way to treat them, they must not go and put on airs after we have beat them. he made the rebel banks shell out and pay the loyal people, he made them keep the city clean from pig's sty to church steeple. that's the way columbia speaks, let all men believe her; that's the way columbia speaks instead of yellow fever. he sent the saucy women up and made them treat us well he helped the poor and snubbed the rich; they thought he was the devil, bully for ben. butler, then, they thought he was so handy; bully for ben butler then,--yankee doodle dandy. the days of sadness for mistress were days of joy for us. we shouted and laughed to the top of our voices. my mistress was more enraged than ever--nothing pleased her. one evening, after i had attended to my usual duties, and i supposed all was complete, she, in a terrible range, declared i should be punished that night. i did not know the cause, neither did she. she went immediately and selected a switch. she placed it in the corner of the room to await the return of her husband at night for him to whip me. as i was not pleased with the idea of a whipping i bent the switch in the shape of w, which was the first letter of his name, and after i had attended to the dining room my fellow servant and myself walked away and stopped with an aunt of mine during the night. in the morning we made our way to the arsenal, but could gain no admission. while we were wandering about seeking protection, the girl's father overtook us and persuaded us to return home. we finally complied. all was quiet. not a word was spoken respecting our sudden departure. all went on as usual. i was permitted to attend to my work without interruption until three weeks after. one morning i entered mrs. lewis' room, and she was in a room adjoining, complaining of something i had neglected. mr. l. then enquired if i had done my work. i told him i had. she then flew into a rage and told him i was saucy, and to strike me, and he immediately gave me a severe blow with a stick of wood, which inflicted a deep wound upon my head. the blood ran over my clothing, which gave me a frightful appearance. mr. lewis then ordered me to change my clothing immediately. as i did not obey he became more enraged, and pulled me into another room and threw me on the floor, placed his knee on my stomach, slapped me on the face and beat me with his fist, and would have punished me more had not my mother interfered. he then told her to go away or he would compel her to, but she remained until he left me. i struggled mightily, and stood him a good test for a while, but he was fast conquering me when my mother came. he was aware my mother could usually defend herself against one man, and both of us would overpower him, so after giving his wife strict orders to take me up stairs and keep me there, he took his carriage and drove away. but she forgot it, as usual. she was highly gratified with my appropriate treatment, as she called it, and retired to her room, leaving me to myself. i then went to my mother and told her i was going away. she bid me go, and added "may the lord help you." i started for the arsenal again and succeeded in gaining admittance and seeing the adjutant. he ordered me to go to another tent, where there was a woman in similar circumstances, cooking. when the general found i was there he sent me to the boarding house. i remained there three weeks, and when i went i wore the same stained clothing as when i was so severely punished, which has left a mark on my head which will ever remind me of my treatment while in slavery. thanks be to god, though tortured by wrong and goaded by oppression, the hearts that would madden with misery have broken the iron yoke. mr. lewis calls at the boarding house at the expiration of three weeks mr. lewis called at my boarding house, accompanied by his brother-in-law, and enquired for me, and the general informed him where i was. he then told me my mother was very anxious for me to come home, and i returned. the general had ordered mr. lewis to call at headquarters, when he told him if he had treated me right i would not have been compelled to seek protection of him; that my first appearance was sufficient proof of his cruelty. mr. l. promised to take me home and treat me kindly. instead of fulfilling his promise he carried me to the trader's yard, where, to my great surprise, i found my mother. she had been there during my absence, where she was kept for fear she would find me and take my brother and sister and make her escape. there was so much excitement at that time, (1861), by the union soldiers rendering the fugitives shelter and protection, he was aware that if she applied to them, as he did not fulfill his promise in my case, he would stand a poor chance. if my mother made application to them for protection they would learn that he did not return me home, and immediately detect the intrigue. after i was safely secured in the trader's yard, mr. l. took my mother home. i remained in the yard three months. near the termination of the time of my confinement i was passing by the office when the cook of the arsenal saw and recognized me and informed the general that mr. l. had disobeyed his orders, and had put me in the trader's yard instead of taking me home. the general immediately arrested mr. l. and gave him one hundred lashes with the cowhide, so that they might identify him by a scarred back, as well as his slaves. my mother had the pleasure of washing his stained clothes, otherwise it would not have been known. my master was compelled to pay three thousand dollars and let me out. he then put me to service, where i remained seven months, after which he came in great haste and took me into the city and put me into the trader's yard again. after he received the punishment he treated my mother and the children worse than ever, which caused her to take her children and secrete themselves in the city, and would have remained undetected had it not been for a traitor who pledged himself to keep the secret. but king whiskey fired up his brain one evening, and out popped the secret. my mother and sister were consequently taken and committed to the trader's yard. my little brother was then eight years of age, my sister sixteen, and myself eighteen. we remained there two weeks, when a rough looking man, called capt. tirrell, came to the yard and enquired for our family. after he had examined us he remarked that we were a fine looking family, and bid us retire. in about two hours he returned, at the edge of the evening, with a covered wagon, and took my mother and brother and sister and left me. my mother refused to go without me, and told him she would raise an alarm. he advised her to remain as quiet as possible. at length she was compelled to go. when she entered the wagon there was a man standing behind with his hands on each side of the wagon to prevent her from making her escape. she sprang to her feet and gave this man a desperate blow, and leaping to the ground she made an alarm. the watchmen came to her assistance immediately, and there was quite a number of union policemen guarding the city at that time, who rendered her due justice as far as possible. this was before the emancipation proclamation was issued. after she leaped from the wagon they drove on, taking her children to the boat. the police questioned my mother. she told them that capt. tirrell had put her children on board the boat, and was going to take them to memphis and sell them into hard slavery. they accompanied her to the boat, and arrived just as they were casting off. the police ordered them to stop and immediately deliver up the children, who had been secreted in the captain's private apartment. they were brought forth and returned. slave speculation was forbidden in st. louis at that time. the union soldiers had possession of the city, but their power was limited to the suppression of the selling of slaves to got out of the city. considerable smuggling was done, however, by pretending unionism, which was the case with our family. released from the trader's yard and taken to her new master immediately after dinner my mother called for me to accompany her to our new home, the residence of the captain, together with my brother and sister. we fared very well while we were there. mrs. tirrell was insane, and my mother had charge of the house. we remained there four months. the captain came home only once a week and he never troubled us for fear we might desert him. his intention was to smuggle us away before the state became free. that was the understanding when he bought us of mr. lewis, as it was not much of an object to purchase slaves while the proclamation was pending, and they likely to lose all their property; but they would, for a trifle purchase a whole family of four or five persons to send out of the state. kentucky paid as much, or more than ever, for slaves. as they pretended to take no part in the rebellion they supposed they would be allowed to keep them without interference. consequently the captain's intention was to keep as quiet as possible till the excitement concerning us was over, and he could get us off without detection. mr. lewis would rather have disposed of us for nothing than have seen us free. he hated my mother in consequence of her desire for freedom, and her endeavors to teach her children the right way as far as her ability would allow. he also held a charge against her for reading the papers and understanding political affairs. when he found he was to lose his slaves he could not bear the idea of her being free. he thought it too hard, as she had raised so many tempests for him, to see her free and under her own control. he had tantalized her in every possible way to humiliate and annoy her; yet while he could demand her services he appreciated and placed perfect confidence in mother and family. none but a fiendish slaveholder could have rended an honest christian heart in such a manner as this. though it was her sad and weary lot to toil in slavery but one thing cheered her weary soul when almost in despair that she could gain a sure relief in attitude of prayer capt. tirrell removes the family--another strategy one day the captain commenced complaining of the expense of so large a family, and proposed to my mother that we should work out and he take part of the pay. my mother told him she would need what she earned for my little brother's support. finally the captain consented, and i was the first to be disposed of. the captain took me in his buggy and carried me to the depot, and i was put into a union family, where i remained five months. previous to my leaving, however, my mother and the captain entered into a contract--he agreeing not to sell us, and mother agreeing not to make her escape. while she was carrying out her promise in good faith, he was plotting to separate us. we were all divided except mother and my little brother, who remained together. my sister remained with one of the rebels, but was tolerably treated. we all fared very well; but it was only the calm before the rending tornado. captain t. was captain of the boat to memphis, from which the union soldiers had rescued us. he commenced as a deck hand on the boat, then attained a higher position, and continued to advance until he became her captain. at length he came in possession of slaves. then his accomplishments were complete. he was a very severe slave master. those mushroom slaveholders are much dreaded, as their severity knows no bounds bondage and torture, scourges and chains placed on our backs indelible stains. i stated previously, in relating a sketch of my mother's history, that she was married twice, and both husbands were to be sold and made their escape. they both gained their freedom. one was living,--the other died before the war. both made every effort to find us, but to no purpose. it was some years before we got a correct account of her second husband, and he had no account of her, except once he heard that mother and children had perished in the woods while endeavoring to make their escape. in a few years after his arrival in the free states he married again. when about sixteen years of age, while residing with her original master, my mother became acquainted with a young man, mr. adams, residing in a neighboring family, whom she much respected; but he was soon sold, and she lost trace of him entirely, as was the common occurrence with friends and companions though united by the nearest ties. when my mother arrived at captain tirrell's, after leaving the boat, in her excitement she scarce observed anything except her little group so miraculously saved from perhaps a final separation in this world. she at length observed that the servant who was waiting to take her to the captain's residence in the country was the same man with whom she formed the acquaintance when sixteen years old, and they again renewed their acquaintance. he had been married and buried his wife. it appeared that his wife had been in captain tirrell's family many years, and he also, for some time. they had a number of children, and capt. tirrell had sold them down south. this cruel blow, assisted by severe flogging and other ill treatment, rendered the mother insane, and finally caused her death. in agony close to her bosom she pressed, the life of her heart, the child of her breast- oh love from its tenderness gathering might had strengthed her soul for declining age. but she is free. yes, she has gone from the land of the slave; the hand of oppression must rest in the grave. the blood hounds have missed the scent of her way, the hunter is rifled and foiled of his prey. after my mother had left the captain to take care of herself and child, according to agreement with the captain, she became engaged to mr. adams. he had bought himself previously for a large price. after they became acquainted, the captain had an excellent opportunity of carrying out his stratagem. he commenced bestowing charity upon mr. adams. as he had purchased himself, and capt. t. had agreed not to sell my mother, they had decided to marry at an early day. they hired a house in the city and were to commence housekeeping immediately. the captain made him a number of presents and seemed much pleased with the arrangement. the day previous to the one set for the marriage, while they were setting their house in order, a man called and enquired for a nurse, pretending he wanted one of us. mother was absent; he said he would call again, but he never came. on wednesday evening we attended a protracted meeting. after we had returned home and retired, a loud rap was heard at the door. my aunt enquired who was there. the reply was, "open the door or i will break it down." in a moment in rushed seven men, four watchmen and three traders, and ordered mother to take my brother and me and follow them, which she hastened to do as fast as possible, but we were not allowed time to put on our usual attire. they thrust us into a close carriage. for fear of my mother alarming the citizens they threw her to the ground and choked her until she was nearly strangled, then pushed her into a coach. the night was dark and dreary; the stars refused to shine, the moon to shed her light. 'tis not strange the heavenly orbs in silence blushed neath nature's sable garb when woman's gagged and rashly torn away without blemish and without crime. unheeded by god's holy word:- unloose the fetters, break the chain, and make my people free again, and let them breath pure freedom's air and her rich bounty freely share. let eutopia stretch her bleeding hands abroad; her cry of anguish finds redress from god. we were hurried along the streets. the inhabitants heard our cries and rushed to their doors, but our carriage being perfectly tight, and the alarm so sudden, that we were at the jail before they could give us any relief. there were strong union men and officers in the city, and if they could have been informed of the human smuggling they would have released us. but oh, that horrid, dilapidated prison, with its dim lights and dingy walls, again presented itself to our view. my sister was there first, and we were thrust in and remained there until three o'clock the following afternoon. could we have notified the police we should have been released, but no opportunity was given us. it appears that this kidnapping had been in contemplation from the time we were before taken and returned; and captain tirrell's kindness to mother,--his benevolence towards mr. adams in assisting him to furnish his house,--his generosity in letting us work for ourselves,--his approbation in regard to the contemplated marriage was only a trap. thus instead of a wedding thursday evening, we were hurled across the ferry to albany court house and to kentucky through the rain and without our outer garments. my mother had lost her bonnet and shawl in the struggle while being thrust in the coach, consequently she had no protection from the storm, and the rest of us were in similar circumstances. i believe we passed through springfield. i think it was the first stopping place after we left east st. louis, and we were put on board the cars and secreted in the gentlemen's smoking car, in which there were only a few rebels. we arrived in springfield about twelve o'clock at night. when we took the cars it was dark, bleak and cold. it was the 18th of march, and as we were without bonnets and clothing to shield us from the sleet and wind, we suffered intensely. the old trader, for fear that mother might make her escape, carried my brother, nine years of age, from one train to the other. we then took the cars for albany, and arrived at eight o'clock in the morning. we were then carried on the ferry in a wagon. there was another family in the wagon, in the same condition. we landed at portland, from thence to louisville, and were put into john clark's trader's yard, and sold out separately, except my mother and little brother, who were sold together. mother remained in the trader's yard two weeks, my sister six, myself four. the fare at their new homes mother was sold to captain plasio. my sister to benj. board, and myself to capt. ephraim frisbee. the man who bought my mother was a spaniard. after she had been there a short time he tried to have my mother let my brother stop at his saloon, a very dissipated place, to wait upon his miserable crew, but my mother objected. in spite of her objections he took him down to try him, but some union soldiers called at the saloon, and noticing that he was very small, they questioned him, and my brother, child like, divulged the whole matter. the captain, fearful of being betrayed and losing his property, let him continue with my mother. the captain paid eight hundred dollars for my mother and brother. we were all sold for extravagant prices. my sister, aged sixteen, was sold for eight hundred and fifty dollars; i was sold for nine hundred dollars. this was in 1863. my mother was cook and fared very well. my sister was sold to a single gentleman, whose intended took charge of her until they were married, after which they took her to her home. she was her waiter, and fared as well as could be expected. i fared worse than either of the family. i was not allowed enough to eat, exposed to the cold, and not allowed through the cold winter to thoroughly warm myself once a month. the house was very large, and i could gain no access to the fire. i was kept constantly at work of the heaviest kind,--compelled to move heavy trunks and boxes,--many times to wash till ten and twelve o'clock at night. there were three deaths in the family while i remained there, and the entire burden was put upon me. i often felt to exclaim as the children of israel did: "o lord, my burden is greater than i can bear." i was then seventeen years of age. my health has been impaired from that time to the present. i have a severe pain in my side by the slightest over exertion. in the winter i suffer intensely with cold, and cannot get warm unless in a room heated to eighty degrees. i am infirm and burdened with the influence of slavery, whose impress will ever remain on my mind and body. for six months i tried to make my escape. i used to rise at four o'clock in the morning to find some one to assist me, and at last i succeeded. i was allowed two hours once in two weeks to go and return three miles. i could contrive no other way than to improve one of these opportunities, in which i was finally successful. i became acquainted with some persons who assisted slaves to escape by the underground railroad. they were colored people. i was to pretend going to church, and the man who was to assist and introduce me to the proper parties was to linger on the street opposite the house, and i was to follow at a short distance. on sunday evening i begged leave to attend church, which was reluctantly granted if i completed all my work, which was no easy task. it appeared as if my mistress used every possible exertion to delay me from church, and i concluded that her old cloven-footed companion had impressed his intentions on her mind. finally, when i was ready to start, my mistress took a notion to go out to ride, and desired me to dress her little boy, and then get ready for church. extensive hoops were then worn, and as i had attached my whole wardrobe under mine by a cord around my waist, it required considerable dexterity and no small amount of maneuvering to hide the fact from my mistress. while attending to the child i had managed to stand in one corner of the room, for fear she might come in contact with me and thus discover that my hoops were not so elastic as they usually are. i endeavored to conceal my excitement by backing and edging very genteelly out of the door. i had nine pieces of clothing thus concealed on my person, and as the string which fastened them was small it caused me considerable discomfort. to my great satisfaction i at last passed into the street, and my master and mistress drove down the street in great haste and were soon out of sight. i saw my guide patiently awaiting me. i followed him at a distance until we arrived at the church, and there met two young ladies, one of whom handed me a pass and told me to follow them at a square's distance. it was now twilight. there was a company of soldiers about to take passage across the ferry, and i followed. i showed my pass, and proceeded up the stairs on the boat. while thus ascending the stairs, the cord which held my bundle of clothing broke, and my feet became entangled in my wardrobe, but by proceeding, the first step released one foot and the next the other. this was observed only by a few soldiers, who were too deeply engaged in their own affairs to interfere with mine. i seated myself in a remote corner of the boat, and in a few moments i landed on free soil for the first time in my life, except when hurled through albany and springfield at the time of our capture. i was now under my own control. the cars were waiting in jefferson city for the passengers for indianapolis, where we arrived about nine o'clock. mattie in indianapolis--the glory of freedom--president lincoln's remains exhibited my first business, after my arrival at indianapolis was to find a boarding place in which i at once succeeded, and in a few hours thereafter was at a place of service of my own choice. i had always been under the yoke of oppression, compelled to submit to its laws, and not allowed to advance a rod from the house, or even out of call, without a severe punishment. now this constant fear and restless yearning was over. it appeared as though i had emerged into a new world, or had never lived in the old one before. the people i lived with were unionists, and became immediately interested in teaching and encouraging me in my literary advancement and all other important improvements, which precisely met the natural desires for which my soul had ever yearned since my earliest recollection. i could read a little, but was not allowed to learn in slavery. i was obliged to pay twenty-five cents for every letter written for me. i now began to feel that as i was free i could learn to write, as well as others; consequently mrs. harris, the lady with whom i lived, volunteered to assist me. i was soon enabled to write quite a legible hand, which i find a great convenience. i would advise all, young, middle aged or old, in a free country to learn to read and write. if this little book should fall into the hands of one deficient of the important knowledge of writing, i hope they will remember the old maxim:--"never too old to learn." manage your own secrets, and divulge them by the silent language of your own pen. had our blessed president considered it too humiliating to learn in advanced years, our race would yet have remained under the galling yoke of oppression. after i had been with mrs. harris seven months, the joyful news came of the surrender of lee's army and the capture of richmond. whilst the country's hearts were throbbing, filled with joy for victories won; whilst the stars and stripes were waving o'er each cottage, ship and dome, came upon like winged lightning words that turned each joy to dread, froze with horror as we listened: our beloved chieftain, lincoln's dead war's dark clouds has long held o'er us, they have rolled their gloomy fold's away, and all the world is anxious, waiting for that promised peaceful day. but that fearful blow inflicted, fell on his devoted head, and from every town and hamlet came the cry our chieftain's dead. weep, weep, o bleeding nation for the patriot spirit fled, all untold our country's future- buried with the silent dead. god of battles, god of nations to our country send relief turn each lamentation into joy whilst we mourn our murdered chief. on the saturday after the assassination of the president there was a meeting held on the common, and a vote taken to have the president's body brought through indianapolis, for the people to see his dear dead face. the vote was taken by raising the hands, and when the question was put in favor of it a thousand black hands were extended in the air, seemingly higher and more visible than all the rest. nor were their hands alone raised, for in their deep sorrow and gloom they raised their hearts to god, for well they knew that he, through martyred blood, had made them free. it was some time before the remains reached indianapolis, as it was near the last of the route. the body was placed in the centre of the hall of the state house, and we marched in by fours, and divided into two on each side of the casket, and passed directly through the hall. it was very rainy,--nothing but umbrellas were to be seen in any direction. the multitude were passing in and out from eight o'clock in the morning till four o'clock in the afternoon. his body remained until twelve o'clock in the evening, many distinguished persons visiting it, when amid the booming of cannon, it moved on its way to springfield, its final resting-place. the death of the president was like an electric shock to my soul. i could not feel convinced of his death until i gazed upon his remains, and heard the last roll of the muffled drum and the farewell boom of the cannon. i was then convinced that though we were left to the tender mercies of god, we were without a leader. gone, gone is our chieftain, the tried and the true; the grief of our nation the world never knew. we mourn as a nation has never yet mourned; the foe to our freedom more deeply has scorned. in the height of his glory in manhood's full prime, our country's preserver through darkest of time; a merciful being, whose kindness all shared shown mercy to others. why was he not spared? the lover of justice, the friend of the slave, he struck at oppression and made it a grave; he spoke for our bond-men, and chains from them fell, by making them soldiers they served our land well. because he had spoken from sea unto sea glad tidings go heavenward, our country is free, and angels i'm thinking looked down from above, with sweet smiles approving his great works of love. his name with the honor forever will live, and time to his laurels new lustre will give; he lived so unselfish, so loyal and true, that his deeds will shine brighter at every view. then honor and cherish the name of the brave, the champion of freedom, the friend to the slave, the far-sighted statesman who saw a fair end, when north land and south land one flag shall defend. rest, rest, fallen chieftain, thy labors are o'er, for thee mourns a nation as never before; farewell honored chieftain whom millions adore, farewell gentle spirit, whom heaven has won. sister lost--mother's escape in two or three weeks after the body of the president was carried through, my sister made her escape, but by some means we entirely lost trace of her. we heard she was in a free state. in three months my mother also escaped. she rose quite early in the morning, took my little brother, and arrived at my place of service in the afternoon. i was much surprised, and asked my mother how she came there. she could scarcely tell me for weeping, but i soon found out the mystery. after so many long years and so many attempts, for this was her seventh, she at last succeeded, and we were now all free. my mother had been a slave for more than forty-three years, and liberty was very sweet to her. the sound of freedom was music in our ears; the air was pure and fragrant; the genial rays of the glorious sun burst forth with a new lustre upon us, and all creation resounded in responses of praise to the author and creator of him who proclaimed life and freedom to the slave. i was overjoyed with my personal freedom, but the joy at my mother's escape was greater than anything i had ever known. it was a joy that reaches beyond the tide and anchors in the harbor of eternal rest. while in oppression, this eternal life-preserver had continually wafted her toward the land of freedom, which she was confident of gaining, whatever might betide. our joy that we were permitted to mingle together our earthly bliss in glorious strains of freedom was indescribable. my mother responded with the children of israel,--"the lord is my strength and my song. the lord is a man of war, and the lord is his name." we left indianapolis the day after my mother arrived, and took the cars at eleven o'clock the following evening for st. louis, my native state. we were then free, and instead of being hurried along, bare headed and half naked, through cars and boats, by a brutal master with a bill of sale in his pocket, we were our own, comfortably clothed, and having the true emblems of freedom. mother's marriage it appeared to me that the city presented an entirely new aspect. the reader will remember that my mother was engaged to be married on the evening after we were kidnapped, and that mr. adams, her intended, had prepared the house for the occasion. we now went in search of him. he had moved about five miles into the country. he had carefully preserved his furniture and was patiently awaiting our return. we were gone two years and four months. the clothing and furniture which we had collected were all destroyed. it was over a year after we left st. louis before we heard from there. we went immediately from the cars to my aunt's, and from there went to mr. adams' residence and took him by surprise. they were married in a week after our return. my mother is comfortably situated on a small farm with a kind and affectionate companion, with whom she had formed an early acquaintance, and from whom she had been severed by the ruthless hand of wrong; but by the divine hand of justice they were now reunited forever. mattie meets her old master--goes to service--is sent for by her step-father in lawrence, mass. in a short time i had selected a place of service, and was improving my studies in a small way. the place i engaged was in the family where i was born, where my mother lived when my father jackson made his escape. although mr. canory's family were always kind to us, i felt a great difference between freedom and slavery. after i had been there a short time my step-father sent for me and my half brother to come to lawrence. he had been waiting ever since the state was free, hoping to get some account of us. he had been informed, previously, that mother, in trying to make her escape, had perished by the way, and the children also, but he was never satisfied. he was aware that my aunt was permanently in st. louis, as her master had given her family their freedom twenty years previous. she was formerly owned by major howe, harness and leather dealer, yet residing in st. louis. and long may he live and his good works follow him and his posterity forever. my father well knew the deception of the rebels, and was determined to persevere until he had obtained a satisfactory account of his family. a gentleman moved directly from lawrence to st. louis, who made particular enquiries for us, and even called at my aunt's. we then heard directly from my father, and commenced correspondence. he had not heard directly from us since he made his escape, which was nine years. he had never heard of his little son who my mother was compelled by mrs. lewis to confine in a box. he was born eight months after he left. as soon as possible after my mother consented to let my little brother go to his father he sent means to assist us to make preparations for our journey to the north. at first he only sent for his little son. my mother was anxious about sending him alone. he was only eleven years old, and perfectly unused to traveling, and had never been away from his mother. finally my father came to the conclusion that, as my mother had endured such extreme hardships and sufferings during the nine years he was not permitted to participate or render her any assistance, that it would afford him much pleasure in sending for us both, bearing our expenses and making us as comfortable as his means would allow. money was sent us, and our kind friend, mr. howe, obtained our tickets and voluntarily assisted us in starting. we left for the north on monday, april 9th, and arrived safe and sound, on the 11th. we found my step-father's residence about six o'clock in the evening. he was not expecting us till the next day. our meeting is better imagined than told. i cannot describe it. his little son was only two years old when he left, and i was eleven, and we never expected to meet him again this side of eternity. it was freedom that brought us together. my father was comfortably situated in a nice white cottage, containing some eight rooms, all well furnished, and attached to it was a fine garden. his wife, who is a physician, was absent, but returned on the following day. the people were kind and friendly. they informed me there was no other colored family in the city, but my step-mother was continually crowded with friends and customers without distinction. my step-mother had buried her only son, who returned from the war in a decline. the white friends were all in deep sympathy with them. i felt immediately at home among such kind and friendly people, and have never felt homesick, except when i think of my poor mother's farewell embrace when she accompanied us to the cars. as soon as my step-mother had arrived, and our excitement was over, they commenced calculating upon placing me in the sabbath school at the church where my mother belonged. on the next sabbath i accompanied her and joined the sabbath school, she occupying a side seat about middle way up the house. i was not reminded of my color except by an occasional loafer or the irish, usually the colored man's enemy. i was never permitted to attend a white church before, or ride in any public conveyance without being placed in a car for the especial purpose; and in the street cars we were not permitted to ride at all, either south or west. here i ride where i please, without the slightest remark, except from the ignorant. many ask me if i am contented. they can imagine by the above contrast. my brother and myself entered the public school, and found a host of interested friends and formed many dear acquaintances whom i shall never forget. after attending school a month the term closed. i advanced in my studies as fast as could be expected. i never attended school but one month before. i needed more attention than my kind teacher could possibly bestow upon me, encumbered as she was by so many small children. mother then proposed my entering some select school and placing myself entirely under its discipline and influence. i was much pleased with the idea, but as they had already been to so much expense for me, i could not wish to place them under any heavier contribution. i had previously told my step-mother my story, and how often my own mother had wished she could have it published. i did not imagine she could find time to write and arrange it, but she immediately proposed writing and publishing the entire story, by the sale of which i might obtain the aid towards completing my studies. i am glad i came to the old bay state, the people of which the rebels hate with an extreme hatred. i found it just such a place as i had imagined by the appearance of the soldiers and the kindness they manifested. new england, that blessed land, all in a happy union band; they with the needy share their bread and teach the weak the word of god. we never heard from my sister hester, who made her escape from kentucky, except when she was on the cars, though we have no doubt she succeeded in gaining her freedom. summary on my return to st. louis i met my old master, lewis, who strove so hard to sell us away that he might avoid seeing us free, on the street. he was so surprised that before he was aware of it he dropped a bow. my mother met mrs. lewis, her old mistress, with a large basket on her arm, trudging to market. it appeared she had lived to see the day when her children had to wait upon themselves, and she likewise. the yankees had taken possession, and her posterity were on an equality with the black man. mr. lewis despised the irish, and often declared he would board at the hotel before he would employ irish help, but he now has a dissipated irish cook. when i was his slave i was obliged to keep away every fly from the table, and not allow one to light on a person. they are now compelled to brush their own flies and dress themselves and children. mr. lewis' brother benjamin was a more severe slave master than the one who owned me. he was a tobacconist and very wealthy. as soon as the war commenced he turned unionist to save his property. he was very severe in his punishments. he used to extend his victim, fastened to a beam, with hands and feet tied, and inflict from fifty to three hundred lashes, laying their flesh entirely open, then bathe their quivering wounds with brine, and, through his nose, in a slow rebel tone he would tell them "you'd better walk a fair chalk line or else i'll give yer twice as much." his former friends, the guerrillas, were aware he only turned union to save his cash, and they gave those persons he had abused a large share of his luxury. they then, in the presence of his wife and another distinguished lady, tortured him in a most inhuman manner. for pretending unionism they placed him on a table and threatened to dissect him alive if he did not tell them where he kept his gold. he immediately informed them. they then stood him against the house and fired over his head. from that, they changed his position by turning him upside down, and raising him two feet from the floor, letting him dash his head against the floor until his skull was fractured, after which he lingered awhile and finally died. there was a long piece published in the paper respecting his repentance, benevolence, & c. all the slaves who ever lived in his family admit the lord is able to save to the uttermost. he saved the thief on the cross, and perhaps he saved him. when i made my escape from slavery i was in a query how i was to raise funds to bear my expenses. i finally came to the conclusion that as the laborer was worthy of his hire, i thought my wages should come from my master's pocket. accordingly i took twenty-five dollars. after i was safe and had learned to write, i sent him a nice letter, thanking him for the kindness his pocket bestowed to me in time of need. i have never received any answer to it. when i complete my education, if my life is spared, i shall endeavor to publish further details of our history in another volume from my own pen. christianity christianity is a system claiming god for its author, and the welfare of man for its object. it is a system so uniform, exalted and pure, that the loftiest intellects have acknowledged its influence, and acquiesced in the justness of its claims. genius has bent from his erratic course to gather fire from her altars, and pathos from the agony of gethsemane and the sufferings of calvary. philosophy and science have paused amid their speculative researches and wonderous revelations, to gain wisdom from her teachings and knowledge from her precepts. poetry has culled her fairest flowers and wreathed her softest, to bind her author's "bleeding brow." music has strung her sweetest lyres and breathed her noblest strains to celebrate his fame; whilst learning has bent from her lofty heights to bow at the lowly cross. the constant friend of man, she has stood by him in his hour of greatest need. she has cheered the prisoner in his cell, and strengthened the martyr at the stake. she has nerved the frail and sinking heart of woman for high and holy deeds. the worn and weary have rested their fainting heads upon her bosom, and gathered strength from her words and courage from her counsels. she has been the staff of decrepit age, and the joy of manhood in its strength. she has bent over the form of lovely childhood, and suffered it to have a place in the redeemer's arms. she has stood by the bed of the dying, and unveiled the glories of eternal life; gilding the darkness of the tomb with the glory of the resurrection. christianity has changed the moral aspect of nations. idolatrous temples have crumbled at her touch, and guilt owned its deformity in her presence. the darkest habitations of earth have been irradiated with heavenly light, and the death shriek of immolated victims changed for ascriptions of praise to god and the lamb. envy and malice have been rebuked by her contented look, and fretful impatience by her gentle and resigned manner. at her approach, fetters have been broken, and men have risen redeemed from dust, and freed from chains. manhood has learned its dignity and worth, its kindred with angels, and alliance to god. to man, guilty, fallen and degraded man, she shows a fountain drawn from the redeemer's veins; there she bids him wash and be clean. she points him to "mount zion, the city of the living god, to an innumerable company of angels, to the spirits of just men made perfect, and to jesus the mediator of the new covenant," and urges him to rise from the degradation of sin, renew his nature and join with them. she shows a pattern so spotless and holy, so elevated and pure, that he might shrink from it discouraged, did she not bring with her a promise from the lips of jehovah, that he would give power to the faint, and might to those who have no strength. learning may bring her ample pages and her ponderous records, rich with the spoils of every age, gathered from every land, and gleaned from every source. philosophy and science may bring their abstruse researches and wonderous revelations--literature her elegance, with the toils of the pen, and the labors of the pencil--but they are idle tales compared to the truths of christianity. they may cultivate the intellect, enlighten the understanding, give scope to the imagination, and refine the sensibilities; but they open not, to our dim eyes and longing vision, the land of crystal founts and deathless flowers. philosophy searches earth; religion opens heaven. philosophy doubts and trembles at the portals of eternity; religion lifts the veil, and shows us golden streets, lit by the redeemer's countenance, and irradiated by his smile. philosophy strives to reconcile us to death; religion triumphs over it. philosophy treads amid the pathway of stars, and stands a delighted listener to the music of the spheres; but religion gazes on the glorious palaces of god, while the harpings of the blood-washed, and the songs of the redeemed, fall upon her ravished ear. philosophy has her place; religion her important sphere; one is of importance here, the other of infinite and vital importance both here and hereafter. amid ancient lore the word of god stands unique and pre-eminent. wonderful in its construction, admirable in its adaptation, it contains truths that a child may comprehend, and mysteries into which angels desire to look. it is in harmony with that adaptation of means to ends which pervades creation, from the polypus tribes, elaborating their coral homes, to man, the wonderous work of god. it forms the brightest link of that glorious chain which unites the humblest work of creation with the throne of the infinite and eternal jehovah. as light, with its infinite particles and curiously blended colors, is suited to an eye prepared for the alterations of day; as air, with its subtle and invisible essence, is fitted for the delicate organs of respiration; and, in a word, as this material world is adapted to man's physical nature; so the word of eternal truth is adapted to his moral nature and mental constitution. it finds him wounded, sick and suffering, and points him to the balm of gilead and the physician of souls. it finds him stained by transgressions and defiled with guilt, and directs him to the "blood that cleanseth from all unrighteousness and sin." it finds him athirst and faint, pining amid the deserts of life, and shows him the wells of salvation and the rivers of life. it addresses itself to his moral and spiritual nature, makes provision for his wants and weaknesses, and meets his yearnings and aspirations. it is adapted to his mind in its earliest stages of progression, and its highest state of intellectuality. it provides light for his darkness, joy for his anguish, a solace for his woes, balm for his wounds, and heaven for his hopes. it unveils the unseen world, and reveals him who is the light of creation, and the joy of the universe, reconciled through the death of his son. it promises the faithful a blessed re-union in a land undimmed with tears, undarkened by sorrow. it affords a truth for the living and a refuge for the dying. aided by the holy spirit, it guides us through life, points out the shoals, the quicksands and hidden rocks which endanger our path, and at last leaves us with the eternal god for our refuge, and his everlasting arms for our protection. transcriber's note: this work was transcribed from a contemporary printing, not from the 1842 edition. certain spellings may have been modernized and typographic and printer's errors changed from the original. the narrative of lunsford lane, formerly of raleigh, n.c. embracing an account of his early life, the redemption by purchase of himself and family from slavery, and his banishment from the place of his birth for the crime of wearing a colored skin. published by himself. boston: printed for the publisher: j. g. torrey, printer. 1842 narrative of lunsford lane. [original.] the slave mother's address to her infant child. i cannot tell how much i love to look on thee, my child; nor how that looking rocks my soul as on a tempest wild; for i have borne thee to the world, and bid thee breathe its air, but soon to see around thee drawn the curtains of despair. now thou art happy, child, i know, as little babe can be; thou dost not fancy in thy dreams but thou art all as free as birds upon the mountain winds, (if thou hast thought of bird,) or anything thou thinkest of, or thy young ear has heard. what are thy little thoughts about? i cannot certain know, only there's not a wing of them upon a breath of woe, for not a shadow's on thy face, nor billow heaves thy breast,- all clear as any summer's lake with not a zephyr press'd. to the reader. i have been solicited by very many friends, to give my narrative to the public. whatever my own judgment might be, i should yield to theirs. in compliance, therefore, with this general request, and in the hope that these pages may produce an impression favorable to my countrymen in bondage; also that i may realize something from the sale of my work towards the support of a numerous family, i have committed this publication to press. it might have been made two or three, or even six times larger, without diminishing from the interest of any one of its pages--_indeed with an increased interest_--but the want of the pecuniary means, and other considerations, have induced me to present it as here seen. should another edition be called for, and should my friends advise, the work will then be extended to a greater length. i have not, in this publication attempted or desired to argue anything. it is only a simple narration of such facts connected with my own case, as i thought would be most interesting and instructive to readers generally. the facts will, i think, cast some light upon the policy of a slaveholding community, and the effect on the minds of the more enlightened, the more humane, and the _christian_ portion of the southern people, of holding and trading in the bodies and souls of men. i have said in the following pages, that my condition as a slave was comparatively a happy, indeed a highly favored one; and to this circumstance is it owing that i have been able to come up from bondage and relate the story to the public; and that my wife, my mother, and my seven children, are here with me this day. if for any thing this side the invisible world, i bless heaven, it is that i was not born a plantation slave, nor even a house servant under what is termed a hard and cruel master. it has not been any part of my object to describe slavery generally, and in the narration of my own case i have dwelt as little as possible upon the dark side--have spoken mostly of the bright. in whatever i have been obliged to say unfavorable to others, i have endeavored not to overstate, but have chosen rather to come short of giving the full picture--omitting much which it did not seem important to my object to relate. and yet i would not venture to say that this publication does not contain a single period which might be twisted to convey an idea more than should be expressed. those of whom i have had occasion to speak, are regarded, where they are known, as among the most kind men to their slaves. mr. smith, some of whose conduct will doubtless seem strange to the reader, is sometimes taunted with being an abolitionist, in consequence of the interest he manifests towards the colored people. if to any his character appear like a riddle, they should remember that, men, like other things, have "two sides," and often a top and a bottom in addition. while in the south i succeeded by stealth in learning to read and write a little, and since i have been in the north i have learned more. but i need not say that i have been obliged to employ the services of a friend, in bringing this narrative into shape for the public eye. and it should perhaps be said on the part of the writer, that it has been hastily compiled, with little regard to style, only to express the ideas accurately and in a manner to be understood. lunsford lane. boston, july 4, 1842. narrative. the small city of raleigh, north carolina, it is known, is the capital of the state, situated in the interior, and containing about thirty six hundred inhabitants.[a] here lived mr. sherwood haywood, a man of considerable respectability, a planter, and the cashier of a bank. he owned three plantations, at the distances respectively of seventy-five, thirty, and three miles from his residence in raleigh. he owned in all about two hundred and fifty slaves, among the rest my mother, who was a house servant to her master, and of course a resident in the city. my father was a slave to a near neighbor. the apartment where i was born and where i spent my childhood and youth was called "the kitchen," situated some fifteen or twenty rods from the "great house." here the house servants lodged and lived, and here the meals were prepared for the people in the mansion. [footnote a: 175 whites--207 free people of color--and 2,244 slaves. total 3,626; according to the census of 1840.] on the 30th of may, 1803, i was ushered into the world; but i did not begin to see the rising of its dark clouds, nor fancy how they might be broken and dispersed, until some time afterwards. my infancy was spent upon the floor, in a rough cradle, or sometimes in my mother's arms. my early boyhood in playing with the other boys and girls, colored and white, in the yard, and occasionally doing such little matters of labor as one of so young years could. i knew no difference between myself and the white children; nor did they seem to know any in turn. sometimes my master would come out and give a biscuit to me, and another to one of his own white boys; but i did not perceive the difference between us. i had no brothers or sisters, but there were other colored families living in the same kitchen, and the children playing in the same yard, with me and my mother. when i was ten or eleven years old, my master set me regularly to cutting wood, in the yard in the winter, and working in the garden in the summer. and when i was fifteen years of age, he gave me the care of the pleasure horses, and made me his carriage driver; but this did not exempt me from other labor, especially in the summer. early in the morning i used to take his three horses to the plantation, and turn them into the pasture to graze, and myself into the cotton or cornfield, with a hoe in my hand, to work through the day; and after sunset i would take these horses back to the city, a distance of three miles, feed them, and then attend to any other business my master or any of his family had for me to do, until bed time, when with my blanket in my hand, i would go into the dining room to rest through the night. the next day the same round of labor would be repeated, unless some of the family wished to ride out, in which case i must be on hand with the horses to wait upon them, and in the meantime work about the yard. on sunday i had to drive to church twice, which with other things necessary to be done, took the whole day. so my life went wearily on from day to day, from night to night, and from week to week. when i began to work, i discovered the difference between myself and my master's white children. they began to order me about, and were told to do so by my master and mistress. i found, too, that they had learned to read, while i was not permitted to have a book in my hand. to be in the possession of anything written or printed, was regarded as an offence. and then there was the fear that i might be sold away from those who were dear to me, and conveyed to the far south. i had learned that being a slave i was subject to this worst (to us) of all calamities; and i knew of others in similar situations to myself, thus sold away. my friends were not numerous; but in proportion as they were few they were dear; and the thought that i might be separated from them forever, was like that of having the heart wrenched from its socket; while the idea of being conveyed to the far south, seemed infinitely worse than the terrors of death. to know, also, that i was never to consult my own will, but was, while i lived, to be entirely under the control of another, was another state of mind hard for me to bear. indeed all things now made me _feel_, what i had before known only in words, that _i was a slave_. deep was this feeling, and it preyed upon my heart like a never-dying worm. i saw no prospect that my condition would ever be changed. yet i used to plan in my mind from day to day, and from night to night, how i might be free. one day, while i was in this state of mind, my father gave me a small basket of peaches. i sold them for thirty cents, which was the first money i ever had in my life. afterwards i won some marbles, and sold them for sixty cents, and some weeks after mr. hog from fayetteville, came to visit my master, and on leaving gave me one dollar. after that mr. bennahan from orange county gave me a dollar, and a son of my master fifty cents. these sums, and the hope that then entered my mind of purchasing at some future time my freedom, made me long for money; and plans for money-making took the principal possession of my thoughts. at night i would steal away with my axe, get a load of wood to cut for twenty-five cents, and the next morning hardly escape a whipping for the offence. but i persevered until i had obtained twenty dollars. now i began to think seriously of becoming able to buy myself; and cheered by this hope, i went on from one thing to another, laboring "at dead of night," after the long weary day's toil for my master was over, till i found i had collected one hundred dollars. this sum i kept hid, first in one place and then in another, as i dare not put it out, for fear i should lose it. after this i lit upon a plan which proved of great advantage to me. my father suggested a mode of preparing smoking tobacco, different from any then or since employed. it had the double advantage of giving the tobacco a peculiarly pleasant flavor, and of enabling me to manufacture a good article out of a very indifferent material. i improved somewhat upon his suggestion, and commenced the manufacture, doing as i have before said, all my work in the night. the tobacco i put up in papers of about a quarter of a pound each, and sold them at fifteen cents. but the tobacco could not be smoked without a pipe, and as i had given the former a flavor peculiarly grateful, it occurred to me that i might so construct a pipe as to cool the smoke in passing through it, and thus meet the wishes of those who are more fond of smoke than heat. this i effected by means of a reed, which grows plentifully in that region; i made a passage through the reed with a hot wire, polished it, and attached a clay pipe to the end, so that the smoke should be cooled in flowing through the stem like whiskey or rum in passing from the boiler through the worm of the still. these pipes i sold at ten cents apiece. in the early part of the night i would sell my tobacco and pipes, and manufacture them in the latter part. as the legislature sit in raleigh every year, i sold these articles considerably to the members, so that i became known not only in the city, but in many parts of the state, as a _tobacconist_. perceiving that i was getting along so well, i began, slave as i was, to think about taking a wife. so i fixed my mind upon miss lucy williams, a slave of thomas devereaux, esq., an eminent lawyer in the place; but failed in my undertaking. then i thought i never would marry; but at the end of two or three years my resolution began to slide away, till finding i could not keep it longer i set out once more in pursuit of a wife. so i fell in with her to whom i am now united, miss martha curtis, and the bargain between _us_ was completed. i next went to her master, mr. boylan, and asked him, according to the custom, if i might "marry his woman." his reply was, "yes, if you will behave yourself." i told him i would. "and make her behave herself!" to this i also assented; and then proceeded to ask the approbation of my master, which was granted. so in may, 1828, i was bound as fast in wedlock as a slave can be. god may at any time sunder that band in a freeman; either master may do the same at pleasure in a slave. the bond is not recognized in law. but in my case it has never been broken; and now it cannot be, except by a higher power. when we had been married nine months and one day, we were blessed with a son, and two years afterwards with a daughter. my wife also passed from the hands of mr. boylan into those of mr. benjamin b. smith, a merchant, a member and class-leader in the methodist church, and in much repute for his deep piety and devotion to religion. but grace (of course) had not wrought in the same _manner_ upon the heart of mr. smith, as nature had done upon that of mr. boylan, who made no religious profession. this latter gentleman used to give my wife, who was a favorite slave, (her mother nursed every one of his own children,) sufficient food and clothing to render her comfortable, so that i had to spend for her but little, except to procure such small articles of extra comfort as i was prompted to from time to time. indeed mr. boylan was regarded as a very kind master to all the slaves about him; that is, to his house servants; nor did he inflict much cruelty upon his field hands, except by proxy. the overseer on his nearest plantation (i know but little about the rest) was a very cruel man; in one instance, as it was said among the slaves, he whipped a man _to death_; but of course denied that the man died in consequence of the whipping. still it was the choice of my wife to pass into the hands of mr. smith, as she had become attached to him in consequence of belonging to the same church, and receiving his religious instruction and counsel as her class-leader, and in consequence of the peculiar devotedness to the cause of religion for which he was noted, and which he always seemed to manifest.--but when she became his slave, he withheld both from her and her children, the needful food and clothing, while he exacted from them to the uttermost all the labor they were able to perform. almost every article of clothing worn either by my wife or children, especially every article of much value, i had to purchase; while the food he furnished the family amounted to less than a meal a day, and that of the coarser kind. i have no remembrance that he ever gave us a blanket or any other article of bedding, although it is considered a rule at the south that the master shall furnish each of his slaves with one blanket a year. so that, both as to food and clothing, i had in fact to support both my wife and the children, while he claimed them as his property, and received all their labor. she was house servant to mr. smith, sometimes cooked the food for his family, and usually took it from the table, but her mistress was so particular in giving it out to be cooked, or so watched it, that she always knew whether it was all returned; and when the table was cleared away, the stern old lady would sit by and see that every dish (except the very little she would send into the kitchen) was put away, and then she would turn the key upon it, so as to be sure her slaves should not die of gluttony. this practice is common with some families in that region; but with others it is not. it was not so in that of her less pious master, mr. boylan, nor was it precisely so at my master's. we used to have corn bread enough, and some meat. when i was a boy, the pot-liquor, in which the meat was boiled for the "great house," together with some little corn-meal balls that had been thrown in just before the meat was done, was poured into a tray and set in the middle of the yard, and a clam shell or pewter spoon given to each of us children, who would fall upon the delicious fare as greedily as pigs. it was not generally so much as we wanted, consequently it was customary for some of the white persons who saw us from the piazza of the house where they were sitting, to order the more stout and greedy ones to eat slower, that those more young and feeble might have a chance. but it was not so with mr. smith: such luxuries were more than he could afford, kind and christian man as he was considered to be. so that by the expense of providing for my wife and children, all the money i had earned and could earn by my night labor was consumed, till i found myself reduced to five dollars, and this i lost one day in going to the plantation. my light of hope now went out. my prop seemed to have given way from under me. sunk in the very night of despair respecting my freedom, i discovered myself, as though i had never known it before, a husband, the father of two children, a family looking up to me for bread, and i a slave, penniless, and well watched by my master, his wife and his children, lest i should, perchance, catch the friendly light of the stars to make something in order to supply the cravings of nature in those with whom my soul was bound up; or lest some plan of freedom might lead me to trim the light of diligence after the day's labor was over, while the rest of the world were enjoying the hours in pleasure or sleep. at this time an event occurred, which, while it cast a cloud over the prospects of some of my fellow slaves, was a rainbow over mine. my master died, and his widow, by the will, became sole executrix of his property. to the surprize of all, the bank of which he had been cashier presented a claim against the estate for forty thousand dollars. by a compromise, this sum was reduced to twenty thousand dollars; and my mistress, to meet the amount, sold some of her slaves, and hired out others. i hired my time of her,[a] for which i paid her a price varying from one hundred dollars to one hundred and twenty dollars per year. this was a privilege which comparatively few slaves at the south enjoy; and in this i felt truly blessed. [footnote a: it is contrary to the laws of the state for a slave to have command of his own time in this way, but in raleigh it is sometimes winked at. i knew one slave-man who was _doing well for himself_, taken up by the public authorities and hired out for the public good, three times in succession for this offence. the time of hiring in such a case is one year. the master is subject to a fine. but generally, as i have said, if the slave is orderly and appears to be _making nothing_, neither he nor the master is interfered with.] i commenced the manufacture of pipes and tobacco on an enlarged scale. i opened a regular place of business, labelled my tobacco in a conspicuous manner with the names of "_edward and lunsford lane_," and of some of the persons who sold it for me,--established agencies for the sale in various parts of the state, one at fayetteville, one at salisbury, one at chapel hill, and so on,--sold my articles from my place of business, and about town, also deposited them in stores on commission, and thus, after paying my mistress for my time, and rendering such support as necessary to my family, i found in the space of some six or eight years, that i had collected the sum of one thousand dollars. during this time i had found it politic to go shabbily dressed, and to appear to be very poor, but to pay my mistress for my services promptly. i kept my money hid, never venturing to put out a penny, nor to let any body but my wife know that i was making any. the thousand dollars was what i supposed my mistress would ask for me, and so i determined now what i would do. i went to my mistress and inquired what was her price for me. she said a thousand dollars. i then told her that i wanted to be free, and asked her if she would sell me to be made free. she said she would; and accordingly i arranged with her, and with the master of my wife, mr. smith, already spoken of, for the latter to take my money[a] and buy of her my freedom, as i could not legally purchase it, and as the laws forbid emancipation except for "meritorious services." this done, mr. smith endeavored to emancipate me formally, and to get my manumission recorded; i tried also; but the court judged that i had done nothing "meritorious," and so i remained, nominally only, the slave of mr. smith for a year; when, feeling unsafe in that relation, i accompanied him to new york whither he was going to purchase goods, and was there regularly and formally made a freeman, and there my manumission was recorded. i returned to my family in raleigh and endeavored to do by them as a freeman should. i had known what it was to be a slave, and i knew what it was to be free. [footnote a: _legally_, my money belonged to my mistress; and she could have taken it and refused to grant me my freedom. but she was a very kind woman for a slave owner; and she would under the circumstances, scorn to do such a thing. i have known of slaves, however, served in this way.] but i am going too rapidly over my story. when the money was paid to my mistress and the conveyance fairly made to mr. smith, i felt that i was free. and a queer and a joyous feeling it is to one who has been a slave. i cannot describe it, only it seemed as though i was in heaven. i used to lie awake whole nights thinking of it. and oh, the strange thoughts that passed through my soul, like so many rivers of light; deep and rich were their waves as they rolled;--these were more to me than sleep, more than soft slumber after long months of watching over the decaying, fading frame of a friend, and the loved one laid to rest in the dust. but i cannot describe my feelings to those who have never been slaves; then why should i attempt it? he who has passed from spiritual death to life, and received the witness within his soul that his sins are forgiven, may possibly form some distant idea, like the ray of the setting sun from the far off mountain top, of the emotions of an emancipated slave. that opens heaven. to break the bonds of slavery, opens up at once both earth and heaven. neither can be truly seen by us while we are slaves. and now will the reader take with me a brief review of the road i had trodden. i cannot here dwell upon its dark shades, though some of these were black as the pencillings of midnight, but upon the light that had followed my path from my infancy up, and had at length conducted me quite out of the deep abyss of bondage. there is a hymn opening with the following stanza, which very much expresses my feelings: "when all thy mercies, oh my god, my rising soul surveys, transported with the view, i'm lost in wonder, love, and praise." i had endured what a freeman would indeed call hard fare; but my lot, on the whole, had been a favored one for a slave. it is known that there is a wide difference in the situations of what are termed house servants, and plantation hands. i, though sometimes employed upon the plantation, belonged to the former, which is the favored class. my master, too, was esteemed a kind and humane man; and altogether i fared quite differently from many poor fellows whom it makes my blood run chill to think of, confined to the plantation, with not enough of food and that little of the coarsest kind, to satisfy the gnawings of hunger,--compelled oftentimes, to hie away in the night-time, when worn down with work, and _steal_, (if it be stealing,) and privately devour such things as they can lay their hands upon,--made to feel the rigors of bondage with no cessation,--torn away sometimes from the few friends they love, friends doubly dear because they are few, and transported to a climate where in a few hard years they die,--or at best conducted heavily and sadly to their resting place under the sod, upon their old master's plantation,--sometimes, perhaps, enlivening the air with merriment, but a forced merriment, that comes from a stagnant or a stupified heart. such as this is the fate of the plantation slaves generally, but such was not my lot. my way was comparatively light, and what is better, it conducted to freedom. and my wife and children were with me. after my master died, my mistress sold a number of her slaves from their families and friends--but not me. she sold several children from their parents--but my children were with me still. she sold two husbands from their wives--but i was still with mine. she sold one wife from her husband--but mine had not been sold from me. the master of my wife, mr. smith, had separated members of families by sale--but not of mine. with me and my house, the tenderer tendrils of the heart still clung to where the vine had entwined; pleasant was its shade and delicious its fruit to our taste, though we knew, and what is more, we _felt_ that we were slaves. but all around i could see where the vine had been torn down, and its bleeding branches told of vanished joys, and of new wrought sorrows, such as, slave though i was, had never entered into my practical experience. i had never been permitted to learn to read; but i used to attend church, and there i received instruction which i trust was of some benefit to me. i trusted, too, that i had experienced the renewing influences of the gospel; and after obtaining from my mistress a written _permit_, (a thing _always_ required in such a case,) i had been baptised and received into fellowship with the baptist denomination. so that in religious matters, i had been indulged in the exercise of my own conscience--a favor not always granted to slaves. indeed i, with others, was often told by the minister how good god was in bringing us over to this country from dark and benighted africa, and permitting us to listen to the sound of the gospel. to me, god also granted temporal freedom, which _man_ without god's consent, had stolen away. i often heard select portions of the scriptures read. and on the sabbath there was one sermon preached expressly for the colored people which it was generally my privilege to hear. i became quite familiar with the texts, "servants be obedient to your masters."--"not with eye service as men pleasers."--"he that knoweth his master's will and doeth it not, shall be beaten with many stripes," and others of this class: for they formed the basis of most of these public instructions to us. the first commandment impressed upon our minds was to obey our masters, and the second was like unto it, namely, to do as much work when they or the overseers were not watching us as when they were. but connected with these instructions there was more or less that was truly excellent; though mixed up with much that would sound strangely in the ears of freedom. there was one very kind hearted episcopal minister whom i often used to hear; he was very popular with the colored people. but after he had preached a sermon to us in which he argued from the bible that it was the will of heaven from all eternity we should be slaves, and our masters be our owners, most of us left him; for like some of the faint hearted disciples in early times we said,--"this is a hard saying, who can bear it?" my manumission, as i shall call it; that is, the bill of sale conveying me to mr. smith, was dated sept. 9th, 1835. i continued in the tobacco and pipe business as already described, to which i added a small trade in a variety of articles; and some two years before i left raleigh, i entered also into a considerable business in wood, which i used to purchase by the acre standing, cut it, haul it into the city, deposit it in a yard and sell it out as i advantageously could. also i was employed about the office of the governor as i shall hereafter relate. i used to keep one or two horses, and various vehicles, by which i did a variety of work at hauling about town. of course i had to hire more or less help, to carry on my business. in the manufacture of tobacco i met with considerable competition, but none that materially injured me. the method of preparing it having originated with me and my father, we found it necessary, in order to secure the advantage of the invention, to keep it to ourselves, and decline, though often solicited, going into partnership with others. those who undertook the manufacture could neither give the article a flavor so pleasant as ours, nor manufacture it so cheaply, so they either failed in it, or succeeded but poorly. not long after obtaining my own freedom, i began seriously to think about purchasing the freedom of my family. the first proposition was that i should buy my wife, and that we should jointly labor to obtain the freedom of the children afterwards as we were able. but that idea was abandoned, when her master, mr. smith, refused to sell her to me for less than one thousand dollars, a sum which then appeared too much for me to raise. afterwards, however, i conceived the idea of purchasing at once the entire family. i went to mr. smith to learn his price, which he put at _three thousand dollars_ for my wife and six children, the number we then had. this seemed a large sum, both because it was a great deal for me to raise; and also because mr. smith, when he bought my wife and _two_ children, had actually paid but five hundred and sixty dollars for them, and had received, ever since, their labor, while i had almost entirely supported them, both as to food and clothing. altogether, therefore, the case seemed a hard one, but as i was entirely in his power i must do the best i could. at length he concluded, perhaps partly of his own motion, and partly through the persuasion of a friend, to sell the family for $2,500, as i wished to free them, though he contended still that they were worth three thousand dollars. perhaps they would at that time have brought this larger sum, if sold for the southern market. the arrangement with mr. smith was made in december, 1838. i gave him five notes of five hundred dollars each, the first due in january, 1840, and one in january each succeeding year; for which he transferred my family into my own possession, with a _bond_ to give me a bill of sale when i should pay the notes. with this arrangement, we found ourselves living in our own house--a house which i had previously purchased--in january, 1839. after moving my family, my wife was for a short time sick, in consequence of her labor and the excitement in moving, and her excessive joy. i told her that it reminded me of a poor shoemaker in the neighborhood who purchased a ticket in a lottery; but not expecting to draw, the fact of his purchasing it had passed out of his mind. but one day as he was at work on his last, he was informed that his ticket had drawn the liberal prize of ten thousand dollars; and the poor man was so overjoyed, that he fell back on his seat, and immediately expired. in this new and joyful situation, we found ourselves getting along very well, until september, 1840, when to my surprise, as i was passing the street one day, engaged in my business, the following note was handed me. "read it," said the officer, "or if you cannot read, get some white man to read it to you." here it is, _verbatim_: _to lunsford lane, a free man of colour_ take notice that whereas complaint has been made to us two justices of the peace for the county of wake and state of north carolina that you are a free negro from another state who has migrated into this state contrary to the provisions of the act of assembly concerning free negros and mulattoes now notice is given you that unless you leave and remove out of this state within twenty days that you will be proceeded against for the penalty porscribed by said act of assembly and be otherwise dealt with as the law directs given under our hands and seals this the 5th sept 1840 willis scott jp (seal) jordan womble jp (seal) this was a terrible blow to me; for it prostrated at once all my hopes in my cherished object of obtaining the freedom of my family, and led me to expect nothing but a separation from them forever. in order that the reader may understand the full force of the foregoing notice, i will copy the law of the state under which it was issued: sec. 65. it shall not be lawful for any free negro or mulatto to migrate into this state: and if he or she shall do so, contrary to the provisions of this act, and being thereof informed, shall not, within twenty days thereafter, remove out of the state, he or she being thereof convicted in the manner hereafter directed, shall be liable to a penalty of five hundred dollars; and upon failure to pay the same, within the time prescribed in the judgment awarded against such person or persons, he or she shall be liable to be held in servitude and at labor for a term of time not exceeding ten years, in such manner and upon such terms as may be provided by the court awarding such sentence, and the proceeds arising therefrom shall be paid over to the county trustee for county purposes: provided, that in case any free negro or mulatto shall pay the penalty of five hundred dollars, according to the provisions of this act, it shall be the duty of such free negro or mulatto to remove him or herself out of this state within twenty days thereafter, and for every such failure, he or she shall be subject to the like penalty, as is prescribed for a failure to remove in the first instance.--_revised statutes north carolina, chap. iii._ the next section provides that if the free person of color so notified, does not leave within the twenty days after receiving the notice, he may be arrested on a warrant from any justice, and be held to bail for his appearance at the next county court, when he will be subject to the penalties specified above; or in case of his failure to give bonds, he may be sent to jail. i made known my situation to my friends, and after taking legal counsel it was determined to endeavor to induce, if possible, the complainants to prosecute no farther at present, and then as the legislature of the state was to sit in about two months, to petition that body for permission to remain in the state until i could complete the purchase of my family; after which i was willing, if necessary, to leave. from january 1st, 1837, i had been employed as i have mentioned, in the office of the governor of the state, principally under the direction of his private secretary, in keeping the office in order, taking the letters to the post office, and doing such other duties of the sort as occurred from time to time. this circumstance, with the fact of the high standing in the city of the family of my former master, and of the former masters of my wife, had given me the friendship of the first people in the place generally, who from that time forward acted towards me the friendly part. mr. battle, then private secretary to governor dudley, addressed the following letter to the prosecuting attorney in my behalf: raleigh, nov. 3, 1840. dear sir:--lunsford lane, a free man of color, has been in the employ of the state under me since my entering on my present situation. i understand that under a law of the state, he has been notified to leave, and that the time is now at hand. in the discharge of the duties i had from him, i have found him prompt, obedient, and faithful. at this particular time, his absence to me would be much regretted, as i am now just fixing up my books and other papers in the new office, and i shall not have time to learn another what he can already do so well. with me the period of the legislature is a very busy one, and i am compelled to have a servant who understands the business i want done, and one i can trust. i would not wish to be an obstacle in the execution of any law, but the enforcing of the one against him, will be doing me a serious inconvenience, and the object of this letter is to ascertain whether i could not procure a suspension of the sentence till after the adjournment of the legislature, say about 1st january, 1841. i should feel no hesitation in giving my word that he will conduct himself orderly and obediently. i am most respectfully, your obedient servant, c.c. battle. g.w. haywood, esq. attorney at law, raleigh, n.c. to the above letter the following reply was made: raleigh, nov. 3, 1840. my dear sir:--i have no objection so far as i am concerned, that all further proceedings against lunsford should be postponed until after the adjournment of the legislature. the process now out against him is one issued by two magistrates, messrs. willis scott and jordan womble, over which i have no control. you had better see them to-day, and perhaps, at your request, they will delay further action on the subject. respectfully yours, geo. w. haywood. mr. battle then enclosed the foregoing correspondence to messrs. scott and womble, requesting their "favorable consideration." they returned the correspondence, but neglected to make any reply. in consequence, however, of this action on the part of my friends, i was permitted to remain without further interruption, until the day the legislature commenced its session. on that day a warrant was served upon me, to appear before the county court, to answer for the sin of having remained in the place of my birth for the space of twenty days and more after being warned out. i escaped going to jail through the kindness of mr. haywood, a son of my former master, and mr. smith, who jointly became security for my appearance at court. this was on monday; and on wednesday i appeared before the court; but as my prosecutors were not ready for the trial, the case was laid over three months, to the next term. i then proceeded to get up a petition to the legislature. it required much hard labor and persuasion on my part to start it; but after that, i readily obtained the signatures of the principal men in the place.--then i went round to the members, many of whom were known to me, calling upon them at their rooms, and urging them for my sake, for humanity's sake, for the sake of my wife and little ones, whose hopes had been excited by the idea that they were even now free; i appealed to them as husbands, fathers, brothers, sons, to vote in favor of my petition, and allow me to remain in the state long enough to purchase my family. i was doing well in business, and it would be but a short time before i could accomplish the object. then, if it was desired, i and my wife and children, redeemed from bondage, would together seek a more friendly home, beyond the dominion of slavery. the following is the petition presented, endorsed as the reader will see: _to the hon. general assembly of the state of north carolina._ gentlemen:--the petition of lunsford lane humbly shews--that about five years ago, he purchased his freedom from his mistress, mrs. sherwood haywood, and by great economy and industry has paid the purchase money; that he has a wife and seven children whom he has agreed to purchase, and for whom he has paid a part of the purchase money; but not having paid in full, is not yet able to leave the state, without parting with his wife and children. your petitioner prays your honorable body to pass a law, allowing him to remain a limited time within the state, until he can remove his family also. your petitioner will give bond and good security for his good behaviour while he remains. your petitioner will ever pray, &c. lunsford lane. * * * * * the undersigned are well acquainted with lunsford lane, the petitioner, and join in his petition to the assembly for relief. charles manly, drury lacy, r.w. haywood, will. peck, eleanor haywood, w.a. stith, wm. hill, a.b. stith, r. smith, j. brown, wm. peace, william white, jos. peace, geo. simpson, wm. m'pheeters, jno. i. christophers, wm. boylan, john primrose, fabius j. haywood, hugh m'queen, d.w. stone, alex. j. lawrence, t. meredith, c.l. hinton. a.j. battle, * * * * * lunsford lane, the petitioner herein, has been servant to the executive office since the 1st of january, 1837, and it gives me pleasure to state that, during the whole time, without exception, i have found him faithful and obedient, in keeping every thing committed to his care in good condition. from what i have seen of his conduct and demeanor, i cheerfully join in the petition for his relief. c.c. battle, _p. secretary to gov. dudley._ raleigh, nov. 20, 1840. the foregoing petition was presented to the senate. it was there referred to a committee. i knew when the committee was to report, and watched about the state house that i might receive the earliest news of the fate of my petition. i should have gone within the senate chamber, but no colored man has that permission. i do not know why, unless for fear, he may hear the name of _liberty_. by and by a member came out, and as he passed me, said, "_well, lunsford, they have laid you out; the nigger bill is killed._" i need not tell the reader that my feelings did not enter into the merriment of this honorable senator. to me, the fate of my petition was the last blow to my hopes. i had done all i could do, had said all i could say, laboring night and day, to obtain a favorable reception to my petition; but all in vain. nothing appeared before me but i must leave the state, and leave my wife and my children never to see them more. my friends had also done all they could for me. and why must i be banished? ever after i entertained the first idea of being free, i had endeavored so to conduct myself as not to become obnoxious to the white inhabitants, knowing as i did their power, and their hostility to the colored people. the two points necessary in such a case i had kept constantly in mind. first, i had made no display of the little property or money i possessed, but in every way i wore as much as possible the aspect of poverty. second, i had never appeared to be even so intelligent as i really was. this all colored people at the south, free and slaves, find it peculiarly necessary to their own comfort and safety to observe. i should, perhaps, have mentioned that on the same day i received the notice to leave raleigh, similar notices were presented to two other free colored people, who had been slaves; were trying to purchase their families; and were otherwise in a like situation to myself. and they took the same course i did to endeavor to remain a limited time. isaac hunter, who had a family with five children, was one; and waller freeman, who had six children, was the other. mr. hunter's petition went before mine; and a bill of some sort passed the senate, which was so cut down in the commons, as to allow him only _twenty days_ to remain in the state. he has since, however, obtained the freedom of his family, who are living with him in philadelphia. mr. freeman's petition received no better fate than mine. his family were the property of judge badger, who was afterwards made a member of mr. harrison's cabinet. when mr. badger removed to washington, he took with him among other slaves this family; and freeman removed also to that city. after this, when mr. b. resigned his office, with the other members of the cabinet under president tyler, he entered into some sort of contract with freeman, to sell him this family, which he left at washington, while he took the rest of his slaves back to raleigh. freeman is now endeavoring to raise money to make the purchase. it was now between two and three months to the next session of the court; and i knew that before or at that time i must leave the state. i was bound to appear before the court; but it had been arranged between my lawyer and the prosecuting attorney, that if i would leave the state, and pay the costs of court, the case should be dropped, so that my bondsmen should not be involved. i therefore concluded to stay as long as i possibly could, and then leave. i also determined to appeal to the kindness of the friends of the colored man in the north, for assistance, though i had but little hope of succeeding in this way. yet it was the only course i could think of, by which i could see any possible hope of accomplishing the object. i had paid mr. smith six hundred and twenty dollars; and had a house and lot worth $500, which he had promised to take when i should raise the balance. he gave me also a bill of sale of one of my children, laura, in consideration of two hundred and fifty dollars of the money already paid; and her i determined to take with me to the north. the costs of court which i had to meet, amounted to between thirty and forty dollars, besides the fee of my lawyer. on the 18th of may, 1841, three days after the court commenced its session, i bid adieu to my friends in raleigh, and set out for the city of new york. i took with me a letter of introduction and recommendation from mr. john primrose, a very estimable man, a recommendatory certificate from mr. battle, and a letter from the church of which i was a member, together with such papers relating to the affair as i had in my possession. also i received the following: raleigh, n.c. may, 1841. the bearer, lunsford lane, a free man of color, for some time a resident in this place, being about to leave north carolina in search of a more favorable location to pursue his trade, has desired us to give him a certificate of his good conduct heretofore. we take pleasure in saying that his habits are temperate and industrious, that his conduct has been orderly and proper, and that he has for these qualities been distinguished among his caste. wm. hill, r. smith, weston r. gales, c. dewey. c.l. hinton, the above was certified to officially in the usual form by the clerk of the court of common pleas and quarter sessions. my success in new york was at first small; but at length i fell in with two friends who engaged to raise for me three hundred dollars, provided i should first obtain from other sources the balance of the sum required, which balance would be one thousand and eighty dollars. thus encouraged, i proceeded to boston; and in the city and vicinity the needful sum was contributed by about the 1st of april, 1842. my thanks i have endeavored to express in my poor way to the many friends who so kindly and liberally assisted me. i cannot reward them; i hope they will receive their reward in another world. if the limits of this publication would permit, i should like to record the names of many to whom i am very especially indebted for their kindness and aid, not only in contributing, but by introducing me and opening various ways of access to others. on the 5th of february, 1842, finding that i should soon have in my possession the sum necessary to procure my family, and fearing that there might be danger in visiting raleigh for that purpose, in consequence of the strong opposition of many of the citizens against colored people, their opposition to me, and their previously persecuting me from the city, i wrote to mr. smith, requesting him to see the governor and obtain under his hand a permit to visit the state for a sufficient time to accomplish this business. i requested mr. smith to publish the permit in one or two of the city papers, and then to enclose the original to me. this letter he answered, under date of raleigh, 19th feb. 1842, as follows: lunsford:--your letter of the 5th inst. came duly to hand, and in reply i have to inform you, that owing to the absence of gov. morehead, i cannot send you the permit you requested, but this will make no difference, for you can come home, and after your arrival you may obtain one to remain long enough to settle up your affairs. you ought of course to apply to the governor immediately on your arrival, before any malicious person would have time to inform against you; i don't think by pursuing this course you need apprehend any danger. * * * * * we are all alive at present in raleigh on the subjects of temperance and religion. we have taken into the temperance societies, about five hundred members, and about fifty persons have been happily converted. * * * the work seems still to be spreading, and such a time i have never seen before in my life. glorious times truly. do try and get all the religion in your heart you possibly can, for it is the only thing worth having after all. your, &c. b.b. smith. the way now appeared to be in a measure open; also i thought that the religious and temperance interest mentioned in the latter portion of mr. smith's letter, augured a state of feeling which would be a protection to me. but fearing still that there might be danger in visiting raleigh without the permit from the governor, or at least wishing to take every possible precaution, i addressed another letter to mr. smith, and received under date of march 12th, a reply, from which i copy as follows: "the governor has just returned, and i called upon him to get the permit as you requested, but he said he had no authority by law to grant one; and he told me to say to you, that you might in perfect safety come home in a quiet manner, and remain twenty days without being interrupted. i also consulted mr. manly [a lawyer] and he told me the same thing. * * * _surely you need not fear any thing under these circumstances. you had therefore better come on just as soon as possible._" * * * * * i need not say, what the reader has already seen, that my life so far had been one of joy succeeding sorrow, and sorrow following joy; of hope, of despair; of bright prospects, of gloom; and of as many hues as ever appear on the varied sky, from the black of midnight, or the deep brown of a tempest, to the bright warm glow of a clear noon day. on the 11th of april it was noon with me; i left boston on my way for raleigh with high hopes, intending to pay over the money for my family and return with them to boston, which i intended should be my future home; for there i had found friends and there i would find a grave. the visit i was making to the south was to be a farewell one; and i did not dream that my old cradle, hard as it once had jostled me, would refuse to rock me a pleasant, or even an affectionate good bye. i thought, too, that the assurances i had received from the governor, through mr. smith, and the assurances of other friends, were a sufficient guaranty that i might visit the home of my boyhood, of my youth, of my manhood, in peace, especially as i was to stay but for a few days and then to return. with these thoughts, and with the thoughts of my family and freedom, i pursued my way to raleigh, and arrived there on the 23d of the month. it was saturday about four o'clock, p.m. when i found myself once more in the midst of my family. with them i remained over the sabbath, as it was sweet to spend a little time with them after so long an absence, an absence filled with so much of interest to us, and as i could not do any business until the beginning of the week. on monday morning between eight and nine o'clock, while i was making ready to leave the house for the first time after my arrival, to go to the store of mr. smith, where i was to transact my business with him, two constables, messrs. murray and scott, entered, accompanied by two other men, and summoned me to appear immediately before the police. i accordingly accompanied them to the city hall, but as it was locked and the officers could not at once find the key, we were told that the court would be held in mr. smith's store, a large and commodious room. this was what is termed in common phrase in raleigh a "call court." the mayor, mr. loring, presided, assisted by william boylan and jonathan busbye, esqs. justices of the peace. there was a large number of people together--more than could obtain admission to the room, and a large company of mobocratic spirits crowded around the door. mr. loring read the writ, setting forth that i had been guilty of _delivering abolition lectures in the state of massachusetts_. he asked me whether i was guilty or not guilty. i told him i did not know whether i had given abolition lectures or not, but if it pleased the court, i would relate the course i had pursued during my absence from raleigh. he then said that i was at liberty to speak. the circumstances under which i left raleigh, said i, are perfectly familiar to you. it is known that i had no disposition to remove from this city, but resorted to every lawful means to remain. after i found that i could not be permitted to stay, i went away leaving behind everything i held dear with the exception of one child, whom i took with me, after paying two hundred and fifty dollars for her. it is also known to you and to many other persons here present, that i had engaged to purchase my wife and children of her master, mr. smith, for the sum of twenty-five hundred dollars, and that i had paid of this sum (including my house and lot) eleven hundred and twenty dollars, leaving a balance to be made up of thirteen hundred and eighty dollars. i had previously to that lived in raleigh, a slave, the property of mr. sherwood haywood, and had purchased my freedom by paying the sum of one thousand dollars. but being driven away, no longer permitted to live in this city, to raise the balance of the money due on my family, my last resort was to call upon the friends of humanity in other places, to assist me. i went to the city of boston, and there i related the story of my persecutions here, the same as i have now stated to you. the people gave ear to my statements; and one of them, rev. mr. neale, wrote back, unknown to me, to mr. smith, inquiring of him whether the statements made by me were correct. after mr. neale received the answer he sent for me, informed me of his having written, and read to me the reply. the letter fully satisfied mr. neale and his friends. he placed it in my hands, remarking that it would, in a great measure, do away the necessity of using the other documents in my possession. i then with that letter in my hands went out from house to house, from place of business to place of business, and from church to church, relating (where i could gain an ear) the same heart-rending and soul-trying story which i am now repeating to you. in pursuing that course, the people, first one and then another contributed, until i had succeeded in raising the amount alluded to, namely, thirteen hundred and eighty dollars. i may have had contributions from abolitionists; but i did not stop to ask those who assisted me whether they were anti-slavery or pro-slavery, for i considered that the money coming from either, would accomplish the object i had in view. these are the facts; and now, sir, it remains for you to say, whether i have been giving abolition lectures or not. in the course of my remarks i presented the letter of mr. smith to mr. neale, showing that i had acted the open part while in massachusetts; also i referred to my having written to mr. smith requesting him to obtain for me the permit of the governor; and i showed to the court, mr. smith's letters in reply, in order to satisfy them that i had reason to believe i should be unmolested in my return. mr. loring then whispered to some of the leading men; after which he remarked that he saw nothing in what i had done, according to my statements, implicating me in a manner worthy of notice. he called upon any present who might be in possession of information tending to disprove what i had said, or to show any wrong on my part, to produce it, otherwise i should be set at liberty. no person appeared against me; so i was discharged. i started to leave the house; but just before i got to the door i met mr. james litchford, who touched me on the shoulder, and i followed him back. he observed to me that if i went out of that room i should in less than five minutes be a dead man; for there was a mob outside waiting to drink my life. mr. loring then spoke to me again and said that notwithstanding i had been found guilty of nothing, yet public opinion was law; and he advised me to leave the place the next day, otherwise he was convinced i should have to suffer death. i replied, "not to-morrow, but to-day." he answered that i could not go that day, because i had not done my business. i told him that i would leave my business in his hands and in those of other such gentlemen as himself, who might settle it for me and send my family to meet me at philadelphia. this was concluded upon, and a guard appointed to conduct me to the depot. i took my seat in the cars, when the mob that had followed us surrounded me, and declared that the cars should not go, if i were permitted to go in them. mr. loring inquired what they wanted of me; he told them that there had been an examination, and nothing had been found against me; that they were at the examination invited to speak if they knew of aught to condemn me, but they had remained silent, and that now it was but right i should be permitted to leave in peace. they replied that they wanted a more thorough investigation, that they wished to search my trunks (i had but one trunk) and see if i was not in possession of abolition papers. it now became evident that i should be unable to get off in the cars; and my friends advised me to go the shortest way possible to jail, for my safety. they said they were persuaded that what the rabble wanted was to get me into their possession, and then to murder me. the mob looked dreadfully enraged, and seemed to lap for blood. the whole city was in an uproar. but the first men and the more wealthy were my friends: and they did everything in their power to protect me. mr. boylan, whose name has repeatedly occurred in this publication, was more than a father to me; and mr. smith and mr. loring, and many other gentlemen, whose names it would give me pleasure to mention, were exceedingly kind. the guard then conducted me through the mob to the prison; and i felt joyful that even a prison could protect me. looking out from the prison window, i saw my trunk in the hands of messrs. johnson, scott, and others, who were taking it to the city hall for examination. i understood afterwards that they opened my trunk; and as the lid flew up, lo! a paper! a paper!! those about seized it, three or four at once, as hungry dogs would a piece of meat after forty days famine. but the meat quickly turned to a stone; for the paper it happened, was one _printed in raleigh_, and edited by weston r. gales, a nice man to be sure, but no abolitionist. the only other printed or written things in the trunk were some business cards of a firm in raleigh--not incendiary. afterwards i saw from the window mr. scott, accompanied by mr. johnson, lugging my carpet-bag in the same direction my trunk had gone. it was opened at the city hall, and found actually to contain a pair of old shoes, and a pair of old boots!--but they did not conclude that these were incendiary. mr. smith now came to the prison and told me that the examination had been completed, and nothing found against me; but that it would not be safe for me to leave the prison immediately. it was agreed that i should remain in prison until after night-fall, and then steal secretly away, being let out by the keeper, and pass unnoticed to the house of my old and tried friend mr. boylan. accordingly i was discharged between nine and ten o'clock. i went by the back way leading to mr. boylan's; but soon and suddenly a large company of men sprang upon me, and instantly i found myself in their possession. they conducted me sometimes high above ground and sometimes dragging me along, but as silently as possible, in the direction of the gallows, which is always kept standing upon the common, or as it is called "the pines," or "piny old field." i now expected to pass speedily into the world of spirits; i thought of that unseen region to which i seemed to be hastening; and then my mind would return to my wife and children, and the labors i had made to redeem them from bondage. although i had the money to pay for them according to a bargain already made, it seemed to me some white man would get it, and they would die in slavery, without benefit from my exertions and the contributions of my friends. then the thought of my own death, to occur in a few brief moments, would rush over me, and i seemed to bid adieu in spirit to all earthly things, and to hold communion already with eternity. but at length i observed those who were carrying me away, changed their course a little from the direct line to the gallows, and hope, a faint beaming, sprung up within me; but then as they were taking me to the woods, i thought they intended to murder me there, in a place where they would be less likely to be interrupted than in so public a spot as where the gallows stood. they conducted me to a rising ground among the trees, and set me down. "now," said they, "tell us the truth about those abolition lectures you have been giving at the north." i replied that i had related the circumstances before the court in the morning; and could only repeat what i had then said. "but that was not the truth--tell us the truth." i again said that any different story would be false, and as i supposed i was in a few minutes to die, i would not, whatever they might think i would say under other circumstances, pass into the other world with a lie upon my lips. said one, "you were always, lunsford, when you were here, a clever fellow, and i did not think you would be engaged in such business as giving abolition lectures." to this and similar remarks, i replied that the people of raleigh had always said the abolitionists did not believe in buying slaves, but contended that their masters ought to free them without pay. i had been laboring to buy my family; and how then could they suppose me to be in league with the abolitionists? after other conversation of this kind, and after they seemed to have become tired of questioning me, they held a consultation in a low whisper among themselves. then a bucket was brought and set down by my side; but what it contained or for what it was intended, i could not divine. but soon, one of the number came forward with a pillow, and then hope sprung up, a flood of light and joy within me. the heavy weight on my heart rolled off; death had passed by and i unharmed. they commenced stripping me till every rag of clothes was removed; and then the bucket was set near, and i discovered it to contain tar. one man, i will do him the honor to record his name, mr. william andres, a journeyman printer, when he is any thing, except a tar-and-featherer, put his hands the first into the bucket, and was about passing them to my face. "don't put any in his face or eyes," said one.[a] so he desisted; but he, with three other "gentlemen," whose names i should be happy to record if i could recall them, gave me as nice a coat of tar all over, face only excepted, as any one would wish to see. then they took the pillow and ripped it open at one end, and with the open end commenced the operation at the head and so worked downwards, of putting a coat of its contents over that of the contents of the bucket. a fine escape from the hanging this will be, thought i, provided they do not with a match set fire to the feathers. i had some fear they would. but when the work was completed they gave me my clothes, and one of them handed me my watch which he had carefully kept in his hands; they all expressed great interest in my welfare, advised me how to proceed with my business the next day, told me to stay in the place as long as i wished, and with other such words of consolation they bid me good night. [footnote a: i think this was mr. burns, a blacksmith in the place, but i am not certain. at any rate, this man was my _friend_ (if so he may be called) on this occasion; and it was fortunate for me that the company generally seemed to look up to him for wisdom.] after i had returned to my family, to their inexpressible joy, as they had become greatly alarmed for my safety, some of the persons who had participated in this outrage, came in (probably influenced by a curiosity to see how the tar and feathers would be got off) and expressed great sympathy for me. they said they regretted that the affair had happened--that they had no objections to my living in raleigh--i might feel perfectly safe to go out and transact my business preparatory to leaving--i should not be molested. meanwhile, my friends understanding that i had been discharged from prison, and perceiving i did not come to them, had commenced a regular search for me, on foot and on horseback, every where; and mr. smith called upon the governor to obtain his official interference; and after my return, a guard came to protect me; but i chose not to risk myself at my own house, and so went to mr. smith's, where this guard kept me safely until morning. they seemed friendly indeed, and were regaled with a supper during the night by mr. smith. my friend, mr. battle, (late private secretary to the governor,) was with them; and he made a speech to them setting forth the good qualities i had exhibited in my past life, particularly in my connection with the governor's office. in the morning mr. boylan, true as ever, and unflinching in his friendship, assisted me in arranging my business,[a] so that i should start with my family _that day_ for the north. he furnished us with provisions more than sufficient to sustain the family to philadelphia, where we intended to make a halt; and sent his own baggage wagon to convey our baggage to the depot, offering also to send his carriage for my family. but my friend, mr. malone, had been before him in this kind offer, which i had agreed to accept. [footnote a: of course i was obliged to sacrifice much on my property, leaving in this hurried manner. and while i was in the north, a kind _friend_ had removed from the wood-lot, wood that i had cut and corded, for which i expected to receive over one hundred dollars; thus saving me the trouble of making sale of it, or of being burdened with the money it would bring. i suppose i have no redress. i might add other things as bad.] brief and sorrowful was the parting from my kind friends; but the worst was the thought of leaving my mother. the cars were to start at ten o'clock in the morning. i called upon my old mistress, mrs. haywood, who was affected to weeping by the considerations that naturally came to her mind. she had been kind to me; the day before she and her daughter, mrs. hogg, now present, had jointly transmitted a communication to the court representing that in consequence of my good conduct from my youth, i could not be supposed to be guilty of any offence. and now, "with tears that ceased not flowing," they gave me their parting blessing. my mother was still mrs. haywood's slave, and i her only child. our old mistress could not witness the sorrow that would attend the parting with my mother. she told her to go with me; and said that if i ever became able to pay two hundred dollars for her, i might; otherwise it should be her loss. she gave her the following paper, which is in the ordinary form of a _pass_: raleigh, n.c. april 26, 1842. know all persons by these presents, that the bearer of this, clarissa, a slave, belonging to me, hath my permission to visit the city of new york with her relations, who are in company with her; and it is my desire that she may be protected and permitted to pass without molestation or hindrance, on good behavior. witness my hand this 26th april, 1842. eleanor haywood. witness--j.a. campbell. on leaving mrs. haywood's, i called upon mrs. badger, another daughter, and wife of judge badger, previously mentioned. she seemed equally affected; she wept as she gave me her parting counsel. she and mrs. hogg and i had been children together, playing in the same yard, while yet none of us had learned that they were of a superior and i of a subject race. and in those infant years there were pencillings made upon the heart, which time and opposite fortunes could not all efface.--may these friends never be slaves as i have been; nor their bosom companions and their little ones be slaves like mine. when the cars were about to start, the whole city seemed to be gathered at the depot; and among the rest the mobocratic portion, who appeared to be determined still that i should not go peaceably away. apprehending this, it had been arranged with my friends and the conductor, that my family should be put in the cars and that i should go a distance from the city on foot, and be taken up as they passed. the mob, therefore, supposing that i was left behind, allowed the cars to start. mr. whiting, known as the agent of the rail road company, was going as far as petersburg, va.; and he kindly assisted in purchasing our tickets, and enabling us to pass on unmolested. after he left, capt. guyan, of raleigh, performed the same kind office as far as alexandria, d.c., and then he placed us in the care of a citizen of philadelphia, whose name i regret to have forgotten, who protected us quite out of the land of slavery. but for this we should have been liable to be detained at several places on our way, much to our embarrassment, at least, if nothing had occurred of a more serious nature. one accident only had happened: we lost at washington a trunk containing most of our valuable clothing. this we have, not recovered; but our lives have been spared to bless the day that conferred freedom upon us. i felt when my feet struck the pavements in philadelphia, as though i had passed into another world. i could draw in a full long breath, with no one to say to the ribs, "why do ye so?" on reaching philadelphia we found that our money had all been expended, but kind friends furnished us with the means of proceeding as far as new-york; and thence we were with equal kindness aided on to boston. in boston and in the vicinity, are persons almost without number, who have done me favors more than i can express. the thought that i was now in my new, though recently acquired home--that my family were with me where the stern, cruel, hated hand of slavery could never reach us more--the greetings of friends--the interchange of feeling and sympathy--the kindness bestowed upon us, more grateful than rain to the thirsty earth,--the reflections of the past that would rush into my mind,--these and more almost overwhelmed me with emotion, and i had deep and strange communion with my own soul. next to god from whom every good gift proceeds, i feel under the greatest obligations to my kind friends in massachusetts. to be rocked in their cradle of liberty,--oh, how unlike being stretched on the pillory of slavery! may that cradle rock forever; may many a poor care-worn child of sorrow, many a spirit-bruised (worse than lash-mangled) victim of oppression, there sweetly sleep to the lullaby of freedom, sung by massachusetts sons and daughters. a number of meetings have been held at which friends have contributed to our temporal wants, and individuals have sent us various articles of provision and furniture and apparel, so that our souls have been truly made glad. there are now ten of us in the family, my wife, my mother, and myself, with seven children, and we expect soon to be joined by my father, who several years ago received his freedom by legacy. the wine fresh from the clustering grapes never filled so sweet a cup as mine. may i and my family be permitted to drink it, remembering whence it came! i suppose such of my readers as are not accustomed to trade in human beings, may be curious to see the bills of sale, by which i have obtained the right to my wife and children. they are both in the hand writing of mr. smith. the first--that for laura is as follows: _state of north carolina, wake county._ know all men by these presents, that for and in consideration of the sum of two hundred and fifty dollars, to me in hand paid, i have this day bargained and sold; and do hereby bargain, sell and deliver unto lunsford lane, a free man of color, a certain negro girl by the name of laura, aged about seven years, and hereby warrant and defend the right and title of the said girl to the said lunsford and his heirs forever, free from the claims of all persons whatsoever. in witness whereof, i have hereunto set my hand and seal at raleigh, this 17th may, 1841. b.b. smith, [seal.] witness--robt. w. haywood. below is the bill of sale for my wife and other six children, to which the papers that follow are attached. _state of north carolina, wake county._ know all men by these presents, that for and in consideration of the sum of eighteen hundred and eighty dollars to me in hand paid, the receipt of which is hereby acknowledged, i have this day bargained, sold and delivered unto lunsford lane, a free man of color, one dark mulatto woman named patsy, one boy named edward, one boy also named william, one boy also named lunsford, one girl named maria, one boy also named ellick, and one girl named lucy, to have and to hold the said negroes free from the claims of all persons whatsoever. in witness whereof, i have hereunto affixed my hand and seal this 25th day of april, 1842. b.b. smith, [seal.] witness--th. l. west. * * * * * _state of north carolina, wake county._ office of court of pleas and quarter sessions, april 26, 1842. the execution of the within bill of sale was this day duly acknowledged before me by b.b. smith, the executor of the same. [l.s.] in testimony whereof, i have hereunto affixed the seal of said court, and subscribed my name at office in raleigh, the date above. jas. t. marriott, clerk. * * * * * _state of north carolina, wake county._ i, wm. boylan, presiding magistrate of the court of pleas and quarter sessions for the county aforesaid, certify that james t. marriott, who has written and signed the above certificate, is clerk of the court aforesaid,--that the same is in due form, and full faith and credit are due to such his official acts. given under my hand and private seal (having no seal of office) this 26th day of april, 1842. wm. boylan, p.m. [seal.] * * * * * _the state of north carolina._ to all to whom these presents shall come, greeting: be it known, that william boylan, whose signature appears in his own proper hand writing to the annexed certificate, was at the time of signing the same and now is a justice of the peace and the presiding magistrate for the county of wake, in the state aforesaid, and as such he is duly qualified and empowered to give said certificate, which is here done in the usual and proper manner; and full faith and credit are due to the same, and ought to be given to all the official acts of the said william boylan as presiding magistrate aforesaid. [l.s.] in testimony whereof, i, j.m. morehead. governor, captain general and commander in chief, have caused the great seal of the state to be hereunto affixed, and signed the same at the city of raleigh, on the 26th day of april, in the year of our lord one thousand eight hundred and forty-two, and in the sixty-sixth year of the independence of the united states. j.m. morehead. by the governor. p. reynolds, private secretary. but thou art born a slave, my child; those little hands must toil, that brow must sweat, that bosom ache upon another's soil; and if perchance some tender joy should bloom upon thy heart, another's hand may enter there, and tear it soon apart. thou art a little joy to me, but soon thou may'st be sold, oh! lovelier to thy mother far than any weight of gold; or i may see thee scourg'd and driv'n hard on the cotton-field, to fill a cruel master's store, with what thy blood may yield. should some fair maiden win thy heart, and thou should'st call her thine; should little ones around thee stand, or round thy bosom twine, thou wilt not know how soon away these loves may all be riv'n, nor what a darkened troop of woe through thy lone breast be driv'n. thy master may be kind, and give thy every wish to thee, only deny that greatest wish, _that longing to be free:_ still it will seem a comfort small that thou hast sweeter bread, a better hut than other slaves, or pillow for thy head. what joys soe'er may gather round, what other comforts flow,- _that_, like a mountain in the sea, o'ertops each wave below, that ever-upward, firm desire to break the chains, and be free as the ocean is, or like the ocean-winds, be free. oh, child! thou art a little slave; and all of thee that grows, will be another's weight of flesh,- but thine the weight of wees thou art a little slave, my child, and much i grieve and mourn that to so dark a destiny a lovely babe i've borne. and gladly would i lay thee down to sleep beneath the sod, and give thy gentle spirit back, unmarr'd with grief, to god: the tears i shed upon that turf should whisper peace to me, and tell me in the spirit land my lovely babe was free. i then should know thy peace was sure, and only long to go the road which thou had'st gone, and wipe away these tears that flow. death to the slave has double power; it breaks the earthly clod, and breaks the tyrant's sway, that he may worship only god. j.p.b. memories of childhood's slavery days by annie l. burton boston ross publishing company 1909 recollections of a happy life the memory of my happy, care-free childhood days on the plantation, with my little white and black companions, is often with me. neither master nor mistress nor neighbors had time to bestow a thought upon us, for the great civil war was raging. that great event in american history was a matter wholly outside the realm of our childish interests. of course we heard our elders discuss the various events of the great struggle, but it meant nothing to us. on the plantation there were ten white children and fourteen colored children. our days were spent roaming about from plantation to plantation, not knowing or caring what things were going on in the great world outside our little realm. planting time and harvest time were happy days for us. how often at the harvest time the planters discovered cornstalks missing from the ends of the rows, and blamed the crows! we were called the "little fairy devils." to the sweet potatoes and peanuts and sugar cane we also helped ourselves. those slaves that were not married served the food from the great house, and about half-past eleven they would send the older children with food to the workers in the fields. of course, i followed, and before we got to the fields, we had eaten the food nearly all up. when the workers returned home they complained, and we were whipped. the slaves got their allowance every monday night of molasses, meat, corn meal, and a kind of flour called "dredgings" or "shorts." perhaps this allowance would be gone before the next monday night, in which case the slaves would steal hogs and chickens. then would come the whipping-post. master himself never whipped his slaves; this was left to the overseer. we children had no supper, and only a little piece of bread or something of the kind in the morning. our dishes consisted of one wooden bowl, and oyster shells were our spoons. this bowl served for about fifteen children, and often the dogs and the ducks and the peafowl had a dip in it. sometimes we had buttermilk and bread in our bowl, sometimes greens or bones. our clothes were little homespun cotton slips, with short sleeves. i never knew what shoes were until i got big enough to earn them myself. if a slave man and woman wished to marry, a party would be arranged some saturday night among the slaves. the marriage ceremony consisted of the pair jumping over a stick. if no children were born within a year or so, the wife was sold. at new year's, if there was any debt or mortgage on the plantation, the extra slaves were taken to clayton and sold at the court house. in this way families were separated. when they were getting recruits for the war, we were allowed to go to clayton to see the soldiers. i remember, at the beginning of the war, two colored men were hung in clayton; one, cæsar king, for killing a blood hound and biting off an overseer's ear; the other, dabney madison, for the murder of his master. dabney madison's master was really shot by a man named houston, who was infatuated with madison's mistress, and who had hired madison to make the bullets for him. houston escaped after the deed, and the blame fell on dabney madison, as he was the only slave of his master and mistress. the clothes of the two victims were hung on two pine trees, and no colored person would touch them. since i have grown up, i have seen the skeleton of one of these men in the office of a doctor in clayton. after the men were hung, the bones were put in an old deserted house. somebody that cared for the bones used to put them in the sun in bright weather, and back in the house when it rained. finally the bones disappeared, although the boxes that had contained them still remained. at one time, when they were building barns on the plantation, one of the big boys got a little brandy and gave us children all a drink, enough to make us drunk. four doctors were sent for, but nobody could tell what was the matter with us, except they thought we had eaten something poisonous. they wanted to give us some castor oil, but we refused to take it, because we thought that the oil was made from the bones of the dead men we had seen. finally, we told about the big white boy giving us the brandy, and the mystery was cleared up. young as i was then, i remember this conversation between master and mistress, on master's return from the gate one day, when he had received the latest news: "william, what is the news from the seat of war?" "a great battle was fought at bull run, and the confederates won," he replied. "oh, good, good," said mistress, "and what did jeff davis say?" "look out for the blockade. i do not know what the end may be soon," he answered. "what does jeff davis mean by that?" she asked. "sarah anne, i don't know, unless he means that the niggers will be free." "o, my god, what shall we do?" "i presume," he said, "we shall have to put our boys to work and hire help." "but," she said, "what will the niggers do if they are free? why, they will starve if we don't keep them." "oh, well," he said, "let them wander, if they will not stay with their owners. i don't doubt that many owners have been good to their slaves, and they would rather remain with their owners than wander about without home or country." my mistress often told me that my father was a planter who owned a plantation about two miles from ours. he was a white man, born in liverpool, england. he died in lewisville, alabama, in the year 1875. i will venture to say that i only saw my father a dozen times, when i was about four years old; and those times i saw him only from a distance, as he was driving by the great house of our plantation. whenever my mistress saw him going by, she would take me by the hand and run out upon the piazza, and exclaim, "stop there, i say! don't you want to see and speak to and caress your darling child? she often speaks of you and wants to embrace her dear father. see what a bright and beautiful daughter she is, a perfect picture of yourself. well, i declare, you are an affectionate father." i well remember that whenever my mistress would speak thus and upbraid him, he would whip up his horse and get out of sight and hearing as quickly as possible. my mistress's action was, of course, intended to humble and shame my father. i never spoke to him, and cannot remember that he ever noticed me, or in any way acknowledged me to be his child. my mother and my mistress were children together, and grew up to be mothers together. my mother was the cook in my mistress's household. one morning when master had gone to eufaula, my mother and my mistress got into an argument, the consequence of which was that my mother was whipped, for the first time in her life. whereupon, my mother refused to do any more work, and ran away from the plantation. for three years we did not see her again. our plantation was one of several thousand acres, comprising large level fields, upland, and considerable forests of southern pine. cotton, corn, sweet potatoes, sugar cane, wheat, and rye were the principal crops raised on the plantation. it was situated near the p---river, and about twenty-three miles from clayton, ala. one day my master heard that the yankees were coming our way, and he immediately made preparations to get his goods and valuables out of their reach. the big six-mule team was brought to the smoke-house door, and loaded with hams and provisions. after being loaded, the team was put in the care of two of the most trustworthy and valuable slaves that my master owned, and driven away. it was master's intention to have these things taken to a swamp, and there concealed in a pit that had recently been made for the purpose. but just before the team left the main road for the by-road that led to the swamp, the two slaves were surprised by the yankees, who at once took possession of the provisions, and started the team toward clayton, where the yankees had headquarters. the road to clayton ran past our plantation. one of the slave children happened to look up the road, and saw the yankees coming, and gave warning. whereupon, my master left unceremoniously for the woods, and remained concealed there for five days. the niggers had run away whenever they got a chance, but now it was master's and the other white folks' turn to run. the yankees rode up to the piazza of the great house and inquired who owned the plantation. they gave orders that nothing must be touched or taken away, as they intended to return shortly and take possession. my mistress and the slaves watched for their return day and night for more than a week, but the yankees did not come back. one morning in april, 1865, my master got the news that the yankees had left mobile bay and crossed the confederate lines, and that the emancipation proclamation had been signed by president lincoln. mistress suggested that the slaves should not be told of their freedom; but master said he would tell them, because they would soon find it out, even if he did not tell them. mistress, however, said she could keep my mother's three children, for my mother had now been gone so long. all the slaves left the plantation upon the news of their freedom, except those who were feeble or sickly. with the help of these, the crops were gathered. my mistress and her daughters had to go to the kitchen and to the washtub. my little half-brother, henry, and myself had to gather chips, and help all we could. my sister, caroline, who was twelve years old, could help in the kitchen. after the war, the yankees took all the good mules and horses from the plantation, and left their old army stock. we children chanced to come across one of the yankees' old horses, that had "u. s." branded on him. we called him "old yank" and got him fattened up. one day in august, six of us children took "old yank" and went away back on the plantation for watermelons. coming home, we thought we would make the old horse trot. when "old yank" commenced to trot, our big melons dropped off, but we couldn't stop the horse for some time. finally, one of the big boys went back and got some more melons, and left us eating what we could find of the ones that had been dropped. then all we six, with our melons, got on "old yank" and went home. we also used to hitch "old yank" into a wagon and get wood. but one sad day in the fall, the yankees came back again, and gathered up their old stock, and took "old yank" away. one day mistress sent me out to do some churning under a tree. i went to sleep and jerked the churn over on top of me, and consequently got a whipping. my mother came for us at the end of the year 1865, and demanded that her children be given up to her. this, mistress refused to do, and threatened to set the dogs on my mother if she did not at once leave the place. my mother went away, and remained with some of the neighbors until supper time. then she got a boy to tell caroline to come down to the fence. when she came, my mother told her to go back and get henry and myself and bring us down to the gap in the fence as quick as she could. then my mother took henry in her arms, and my sister carried me on her back. we climbed fences and crossed fields, and after several hours came to a little hut which my mother had secured on a plantation. we had no more than reached the place, and made a little fire, when master's two sons rode up and demanded that the children be returned. my mother refused to give us up. upon her offering to go with them to the yankee headquarters to find out if it were really true that all negroes had been made free, the young men left, and troubled us no more. the cabin that was now our home was made of logs. it had one door, and an opening in one wall, with an inside shutter, was the only window. the door was fastened with a latch. our beds were some straw. there were six in our little family; my mother, caroline, henry, two other children that my mother had brought with her upon her return, and myself. the man on whose plantation this cabin stood, hired my mother as cook, and gave us this little home. we children used to sell blueberries and plums that we picked. one day the man on whom we depended for our home and support, left. then my mother did washing by the day, for whatever she could get. we were sent to get cold victuals from hotels and such places. a man wanting hands to pick cotton, my brother henry and i were set to help in this work. we had to go to the cotton field very early every morning. for this work, we received forty cents for every hundred pounds of cotton we picked. caroline was hired out to take care of a baby. in 1866, another man hired the plantation on which our hut stood, and we moved into clayton, to a little house my mother secured there. a rich lady came to our house one day, looking for some one to take care of her little daughter. i was taken, and adopted into this family. this rich lady was mrs. e. m. williams, a music teacher, the wife of a lawyer. we called her "mis' mary." some rich people in clayton who had owned slaves, opened the methodist church on sundays, and began the work of teaching the negroes. my new mistress sent me to sunday school every sunday morning, and i soon got so that i could read. mis' mary taught me every day at her knee. i soon could read nicely, and went through sterling's second reader, and then into mcguthrie's third reader. the first piece of poetry i recited in sunday school was taught to me by mis' mary during the week. mis' mary's father-in-law, an ex-judge, of clayton, alabama, heard me recite it, and thought it was wonderful. it was this: "i am glad to see you, little bird, it was your sweet song i heard. what was it i heard you say? give me crumbs to eat today? here are crumbs i brought for you. eat your dinner, eat away, come and see us every day." after this mis' mary kept on with my studies, and taught me to write. as i grew older, she taught me to cook and how to do housework. during this time mis' mary had given my mother one dollar a month in return for my services; now as i grew up to young womanhood, i thought i would like a little money of my own. accordingly, mis' mary began to pay me four dollars a month, besides giving me my board and clothes. for two summers she "let me out" while she was away, and i got five dollars a month. while i was with mis' mary, i had my first sweetheart, one of the young fellows who attended sunday school with me. mis' mary, however, objected to the young man's coming to the house to call, because she did not think i was old enough to have a sweetheart. i owe a great deal to mis' mary for her good training of me, in honesty, uprightness and truthfulness. she told me that when i went out into the world all white folks would not treat me as she had, but that i must not feel bad about it, but just do what i was employed to do, and if i wasn't satisfied, to go elsewhere; but always to carry an honest name. one sunday when my sweetheart walked to the gate with me, mis' mary met him and told him she thought i was too young for him, and that she was sending me to sunday school to learn, not to catch a beau. it was a long while before he could see me again,--not until later in the season, in watermelon time, when mis' mary and my mother gave me permission to go to a watermelon party one sunday afternoon. mis' mary did not know, however, that my sweetheart had planned to escort me. we met around the corner of the house, and after the party he left me at the same place. after that i saw him occasionally at barbecues and parties. i was permitted to go with him some evenings to church, but my mother always walked ahead or behind me and the young man. we went together for four years. during that time, although i still called mis' mary's my home, i had been out to service in one or two families. finally, my mother and mis' mary consented to our marriage, and the wedding day was to be in may. the winter before that may, i went to service in the family of dr. drury in eufaula. just a week before i left clayton i dreamed that my sweetheart died suddenly. the night before i was to leave, we were invited out to tea. he told me he had bought a nice piece of poplar wood, with which to make a table for our new home. when i told him my dream, he said, "don't let that trouble you, there is nothing in dreams." but one month from that day he died, and his coffin was made from the piece of poplar wood he had bought for the table. after his death, i remained in clayton for two or three weeks with my people, and then went back to eufaula, where i stayed two years. my sweetheart's death made a profound impression on me, and i began to pray as best i could. often i remained all night on my knees. going on an excursion to macon, georgia, one time, i liked the place so well that i did not go back to eufaula. i got a place as cook in the family of an episcopal clergyman, and remained with them eight years, leaving when the family moved to new orleans. during these eight years, my mother died in clayton, and i had to take the three smallest children into my care. my oldest sister was now married, and had a son. i now went to live with a mrs. maria campbell, a colored woman, who adopted me and gave me her name. mrs. campbell did washing and ironing for her living. while living with her, i went six months to lewis' high school in macon. then i went to atlanta, and obtained a place as first-class cook with mr. e. n. inman. but i always considered mrs. campbell's my home. i remained about a year with mr. inman, and received as wages ten dollars a month. one day, when the family were visiting in memphis, i chanced to pick up a newspaper, and read the advertisement of a northern family for a cook to go to boston. i went at once to the address given, and made agreement to take the place, but told the people that i could not leave my present position until mr. inman returned home. mr. and mrs. inman did not want to let me go, but i made up my mind to go north. the northern family whose service i was to enter had returned to boston before i left, and had made arrangements with a friend, mr. bullock, to see me safely started north. after deciding to go north, i went to macon, to make arrangements with mrs. campbell for the care of my two sisters who lived with her. one sister was now about thirteen and the other fifteen, both old enough to do a little for themselves. my brother was dead. he went to brunswick in 1875, and died there of the yellow fever in 1876. one sister i brought in later years to boston. i stayed in macon two weeks, and was in atlanta three or four days before leaving for the north. about the 15th of june, 1879, i arrived at the old colony station in boston, and had my first glimpse of the country i had heard so much about. from boston i went to newtonville, where i was to work. the gentleman whose service i was to enter, mr. e. n. kimball, was waiting at the station for me, and drove me to his home on warner street. for a few days, until i got somewhat adjusted to my new circumstances, i had no work to do. on june 17th the family took me with them to auburndale. but in spite of the kindness of mrs. kimball and the colored nurse, i grew very homesick for the south, and would often look in the direction of my old home and cry. the washing, a kind of work i knew nothing about, was given to me; but i could not do it, and it was finally given over to a hired woman. i had to do the ironing of the fancy clothing for mrs. kimball and the children. about five or six weeks after my arrival, mrs. kimball and the children went to the white mountains for the summer, and i had more leisure. mr. kimball went up to the mountains every saturday night, to stay with his family over sunday; but he and his father-in-law were at home other nights, and i had to have dinner for them. to keep away the homesickness and loneliness as much as possible, i made acquaintance with the hired girl across the street. one morning i climbed up into the cherry tree that grew between mr. kimball's yard and the yard of his next-door neighbor, mr. roberts. i was thinking of the south, and as i picked the cherries, i sang a southern song. mr. roberts heard me, and gave me a dollar for the song. by agreement, mrs. kimball was to give me three dollars and a half a week, instead of four, until the difference amounted to my fare from the south; after that, i was to have four dollars. i had, however, received but little money. in the fall, after the family came home, we had a little difficulty about my wages, and i left and came into boston. one of my macon acquaintances had come north before me, and now had a position as cook in a house on columbus avenue. i looked this girl up. then i went to a lodging-house for colored people on kendall street, and spent one night there. mrs. kimball had refused to give me a recommendation, because she wanted me to stay with her, and thought the lack of a recommendation would be an inducement. in the lodging-house i made acquaintance with a colored girl, who took me to an intelligence office. the man at the desk said he would give me a card to take to 24 springfield street, on receipt of fifty cents. i had never heard of an office of this kind, and asked a good many questions. after being assured that my money would be returned in case i did not accept the situation, i paid the fifty cents and started to find the address on the card. being ignorant of the scheme of street numbering, i inquired of a woman whom i met, where no. 24 was. this woman asked me if i was looking for work, and when i told her i was, she said a friend of hers on springfield street wanted a servant immediately. of course i went with this lady, and after a conference with the mistress of the house as to my ability, when i could begin work, what wages i should want, etc., i was engaged as cook at three dollars and a half a week. from this place i proceeded to 24 springfield street, as directed, hoping that i would be refused, so that i might go back to the intelligence office and get my fifty cents. the lady at no. 24 who wanted a servant, said she didn't think i was large and strong enough, and guessed i wouldn't do. then i went and got my fifty cents. having now obtained a situation, i sent to mr. kimball's for my trunk. i remained in my new place a year and a half. at the end of that time the family moved to dorchester, and because i did not care to go out there, i left their service. from this place, i went to narragansett pier to work as a chambermaid for the summer. in the fall, i came back to boston and obtained a situation with a family, in berwick park. this family afterward moved to jamaica plain, and i went with them. with this family i remained seven years. they were very kind to me, gave me two or three weeks' vacation, without loss of pay. in june, 1884, i went with them to their summer home in the isles of shoals, as housekeeper for some guests who were coming from paris. on the 6th of july i received word that my sister caroline had died in june. this was a great blow to me. i remained with the reeds until they closed their summer home, but i was not able to do much work after the news of my sister's death. i wrote home to georgia, to the white people who owned the house in which caroline had lived, asking them to take care of her boy lawrence until i should come in october. when we came back to jamaica plain in the fall, i was asked to decide what i should do in regard to this boy. mrs. reed wanted me to stay with her, and promised to help pay for the care of the boy in georgia. of course, she said, i could not expect to find positions if i had a child with me. as an inducement to remain in my present place and leave the boy in georgia, i was promised provision for my future days, as long as i should live. it did not take me long to decide what i should do. the last time i had seen my sister, a little over a year before she died, she had said, when i was leaving, "i don't expect ever to see you again, but if i die i shall rest peacefully in my grave, because i know you will take care of my child." i left jamaica plain and took a room on village street for the two or three weeks until my departure for the south. during this time, a lady came to the house to hire a girl for her home in wellesley hills. the girl who was offered the place would not go. i volunteered to accept the position temporarily, and went at once to the beautiful farm. at the end of a week, a man and his wife had been engaged, and i was to leave the day after their arrival. these new servants, however, spoke very little english, and i had to stay through the next week until the new ones were broken in. after leaving there i started for georgia, reaching there at the end of five days, at five o'clock. i took a carriage and drove at once to the house where lawrence was being taken care of. he was playing in the yard, and when he saw me leave the carriage he ran and threw his arms around my neck and cried for joy. i stayed a week in this house, looking after such things of my sister's as had not been already stored. one day i had a headache, and was lying down in the cook's room. lawrence was in the dining-room with the cook's little girl, and the two got into a quarrel, in the course of which my nephew struck the cook's child. the cook, in her anger, chased the boy with a broom, and threatened to give him a good whipping at all costs. hearing the noise, i came out into the yard, and when lawrence saw me he ran to me for protection. i interceded for him, and promised he should get into no more trouble. we went at once to a neighbor's house for the night. the next day i got a room in the yard of a house belonging to some white people. here we stayed two weeks. the only return i was asked to make for the room was to weed the garden. lawrence and i dug out some weeds and burned them, but came so near setting fire to the place that we were told we need not dig any more weeds, but that we might have the use of the room so long as we cared to stay. in about a week and a half more we got together such things as we wanted to keep and take away with us. the last time i saw my sister, i had persuaded her to open a bank account, and she had done so, and had made small deposits from time to time. when i came to look for the bankbook, i discovered that her lodger, one mayfield, had taken it at her death, and nobody knew where it might be now. i found out that mayfield had drawn thirty dollars from the account for my sister's burial, and also an unknown amount for himself. he had done nothing for the boy. i went down to the bank, and was told that mayfield claimed to look after my sister's burial and her affairs. he had made one reuben bennett, who was no relation and had no interest in the matter, administrator for lawrence, until his coming of age. but bennett had as yet done nothing for him. the book was in the bank, with some of the account still undrawn, how much i did not know. i next went to see a lawyer, to find out how much it would cost me to get this book. the lawyer said fifteen dollars. i said i would call again. in the meantime, i went to the court house, and when the case on trial was adjourned i went to the judge and stated my case. the judge, who was slightly acquainted with my sister and me, told me to have reuben bennett in court next morning at nine o'clock, and to bring lawrence with me. when we had all assembled before the judge, he told bennett to take lawrence and go to the bank and get the money belonging to my sister. bennett went and collected the money, some thirty-five dollars. the boy was then given into my care by the judge. for his kindness, the judge would accept no return. happy at having obtained the money so easily, we went back to our room, and rested until our departure the next night for jacksonville, florida. i had decided to go to this place for the winter, on account of lawrence, thinking the northern winter would be too severe for him. my youngest sister, who had come to macon from atlanta a few days before my arrival, did not hear of caroline's death until within a few days of our departure. this youngest sister decided to go to florida with us for the winter. our trunks and baggage were taken to the station in a team. we had a goodly supply of food, given us by our friends and by the people whose hospitality we had shared during the latter part of our stay. the next morning we got into jacksonville. my idea was to get a place as chambermaid at green cove springs, florida, through the influence of the head waiter at a hotel there, whom i knew. after i got into jacksonville i changed my plans. i did not see how i could move my things any farther, and we went to a hotel for colored people, hired a room for two dollars, and boarded ourselves on the food which had been given us in macon. this food lasted about two weeks. then i had to buy, and my money was going every day, and none coming in, i did not know what to do. one night the idea of keeping a restaurant came to me, and i decided to get a little home for the three of us, and then see what i could do in this line of business. after a long and hard search, i found a little house of two rooms where we could live, and the next day i found a place to start my restaurant. for house furnishings, we used at first, to the best advantage we could, the things we had brought from macon. caroline's cookstove had been left with my foster-mother in macon. after hiring the room for the restaurant, i sent for this stove, and it arrived in a few days. then i went to a dealer in second-hand furniture and got such things as were actually needed for the house and the restaurant, on the condition that he would take them back at a discount when i got through with them. trade at the restaurant was very good, and we got along nicely. my sister got a position as nurse for fifteen dollars a month. one day the cook from a shipwrecked vessel came to my restaurant, and in return for his board and a bed in the place, agreed to do my cooking. after trade became good, i changed my residence to a house of four rooms, and put three cheap cots in each of two of the rooms, and let the cots at a dollar a week apiece to colored men who worked nearby in hotels. lawrence and i did the chamber work at night, after the day's work in the restaurant. i introduced "boston baked beans" into my restaurant, much to the amusement of the people at first; but after they had once eaten them it was hard to meet the demand for beans. lawrence, who was now about eleven years old, was a great help to me. he took out dinners to the cigarmakers in a factory nearby. at the end of the season, about four months, it had grown so hot that we could stay in jacksonville no longer. from my restaurant and my lodgers i cleared one hundred and seventy-five dollars, which i put into the jacksonville bank. then i took the furniture back to the dealer, who fulfilled his agreement. my sister decided to go back to atlanta when she got through with her place as nurse, which would not be for some weeks. i took seventy-five dollars out of my bank account, and with lawrence went to fernandina. there we took train to port royal, s. c., then steamer to new york. from new york we went to brooklyn for a few days. then we went to newport and stayed with a woman who kept a lodging-house. i decided to see what i could do in newport by keeping a boarding and lodging-house. i hired a little house and agreed to pay nine dollars a month for it. i left lawrence with some neighbors while i came to boston and took some things out of storage. these things i moved into the little house. but i found, after paying one month's rent, that the house was not properly located for the business i wanted. i left, and with lawrence went to narragansett pier. i got a place there as "runner" for a laundry; that is, i was to go to the hotels and leave cards and solicit trade. then lawrence thought he would like to help by doing a little work. one night when i came back from the laundry, i missed him. nobody had seen him. all night i searched for him, but did not find him. in the early morning i met him coming home. he said a man who kept a bowling alley had hired him at fifty cents a week to set up the pins, and it was in the bowling alley he had been all night. he said the man let him take a nap on his coat when he got sleepy. i went at once to see this man, and told him not to hire my nephew again. a lady who kept a hotel offered me two dollars a week for lawrence's services in helping the cook and serving in the help's dining-room. when the season closed, the lady who hired lawrence was very reluctant to let him go. we went back to newport to see the landlady from whom i had hired the house, and i paid such part of the rent as i could. then i packed my things and started for boston. on reaching there, i kept such of my things as i needed, and stored the rest, and took a furnished room. in about a week's time i went to see the husband of the lady for whom i had worked at wellesley hills just previous to my departure for the south. he had told me to let him know when i returned to boston. he said a man and his wife were at present employed at his farm, but he didn't know how long they would stay. before another week had passed, this gentleman sent for me. he said his wife wanted me to go out to the farm, and that i could have lawrence with me. the boy, he said, could help his wife with the poultry, and could have a chance to go to school. i was promised three dollars and a half a week, and no washing to do. i was told that the farm had been offered for sale, and of course it might change hands any day. i was promised, however, that i should lose nothing by the change. lawrence was very lonely at the farm, with no companions, and used to sit and cry. the place was sold about ten weeks after i went there, and i came into boston to look about for a restaurant, leaving lawrence at the farm. when the home was broken up, the owners came to the revere house, boston. barrels of apples, potatoes and other provisions were given to me. i found a little restaurant near the providence depot for sale. i made arrangements at once to buy the place for thirty-five dollars, and the next day i brought lawrence and my things from wellesley hills. i paid two dollars a week rent for my little restaurant, and did very well. the next spring i sold the place for fifty dollars, in time to get a place at the beach for the summer. lawrence got a position in a drug store, and kept it four years. then he went to hampton college, hampton, va. after finishing there, he came back and then went to the world's fair in chicago. after that he took a position on one of the fall river line boats. at the outbreak of the spanish war, he enlisted in brooklyn as powderman on the battleship texas. he was on the texas when the first shot was fired. he was present at the decoration of the graves of the american soldiers in havana, and also at the decoration of the battleship maine after she was raised. after the war, he came to brooklyn and got an honorable discharge. then he served as valet to a rich new york man, who travelled a good deal. about the middle of last november (1906) lawrence came to boston to see me. he is now in atlantic city, a waiter in the royal hotel. in 1888, i was married, at 27 pemberton street, to samuel h. burton, by dr. o. p. gifford. after my marriage, mr. burton got a place in braintree as valet to an old gentleman who was slightly demented, and he could not be satisfied until i joined him. so i put our things into storage and went to braintree. i remained there ten months, and then came back to boston. then i got a position as head matron in the help's dining-room in a hotel at watch hill, r. i. my husband was also there as waiter. at the end of the season we both came home, and rented a lodging-house, and lost money on it. reminiscences the times changed from slavery days to freedom's days. as young as i was, my thoughts were mystified to see such wonderful changes; yet i did not know the meaning of these changing days. but days glided by, and in my mystified way i could see and hear many strange things. i would see my master and mistress in close conversation and they seemed anxious about something that i, a child, could not know the meaning of. but as weeks went by, i began to understand. i saw all the slaves one by one disappearing from the plantation (for night and day they kept going) until there was not one to be seen. all around the plantation was left barren. day after day i could run down to the gate and see down the road troops and troops of garrison's brigade, and in the midst of them gangs and gangs of negro slaves who joined with the soldiers, shouting, dancing and clapping their hands. the war was ended, and from mobile bay to clayton, ala., all along the road, on all the plantations, the slaves thought that if they joined the yankee soldiers they would be perfectly safe. as i looked on these i did not know what it meant, for i had never seen such a circus. the yankee soldiers found that they had such an army of men and women and children, that they had to build tents and feed them to keep them from starving. but from what i, a little child, saw and heard the older ones say, that must have been a terrible time of trouble. i heard my master and mistress talking. they said, "well, i guess those yankees had such a large family on their hands, we rather guessed those fanatics on freedom would be only too glad to send some back for their old masters to provide for them." but they never came back to our plantation, and i could only speak of my own home, but i thought to myself, what would become of my good times all over the old plantation. oh, the harvesting times, the great hog-killing times when several hundred hogs were killed, and we children watched and got our share of the slaughter in pig's liver roasted on a bed of coals, eaten ashes and all. then came the great sugar-cane grinding time, when they were making the molasses, and we children would be hanging round, drinking the sugar-cane juice, and awaiting the moment to help ourselves to everything good. we did, too, making ourselves sticky and dirty with the sweet stuff being made. not only were the slave children there, but the little white children from massa's house would join us and have a jolly time. the negro child and the white child knew not the great chasm between their lives, only that they had dainties and we had crusts. my sister, being the children's nurse, would take them and wash their hands and put them to bed in their luxurious bedrooms, while we little slaves would find what homes we could. my brother and i would go to sleep on some lumber under the house, where our sister caroline would find us and put us to bed. she would wipe our hands and faces and make up our beds on the floor in massa's house, for we had lived with him ever since our own mother had run away, after being whipped by her mistress. later on, after the war, my mother returned and claimed us. i never knew my father, who was a white man. during these changing times, just after the war, i was trying to find out what the change would bring about for us, as we were under the care of our mistress, living in the great house. i thought this: that henry, caroline and myself, louise, would have to go as others had done, and where should we go and what should we do? but as time went on there were many changes. our mistress and her two daughters, martha and mary, had to become their own servants, and do all the work of the house, going into the kitchen, cooking and washing, and feeling very angry that all their house servants had run away to the yankees. the time had come when our good times were over, our many leisure hours spent among the cotton fields and woods and our half-holiday on saturday. these were all gone. the boys had to leave school and take the runaway slaves' places to finish the planting and pick the cotton. i myself have worked in the cotton field, picking great baskets full, too heavy for me to carry. all was over! i now fully understood the change in our circumstances. little henry and i had no more time to sit basking ourselves in the sunshine of the sunny south. the land was empty and the servants all gone. i can see my dainty mistress coming down the steps saying, "rit, you and henry will have to go and pick up some chips, for miss mary and myself have to prepare the breakfast. you children will have to learn to work. do you understand me, rit and henry?" "yes, missus, we understand." and away we flew, laughing, and thinking it a great joke that we, massa's pets, must learn to work. but it was a sad, sad change on the old plantation, and the beautiful, proud sunny south, with its masters and mistresses, was bowed beneath the sin brought about by slavery. it was a terrible blow to the owners of plantations and slaves, and their children would feel it more than they, for they had been reared to be waited upon by willing or unwilling slaves. in this place i will insert a poem my young mistress taught us, for she was always reading poems and good stories. but first i will record a talk i heard between my master and mistress. they were sitting in the dining-room, and we children were standing around the table. my mistress said, "i suppose, as nancy has never returned, we had better keep henry, caroline and louise until they are of age." "yes, we will," said massa, miss mary and miss martha, "but it is 'man proposes and god disposes.'" so in the following pages you will read the sequel to my childhood life in the sunny south. right after the war when my mother had got settled in her hut, with her little brood hovered around her, from which she had been so long absent, we had nothing to eat, and nothing to sleep on save some old pieces of horse-blankets and hay that the soldiers gave her. the first day in the hut was a rainy day; and as night drew near it grew more fierce, and we children had gathered some little fagots to make a fire by the time mother came home, with something for us to eat, such as she had gathered through the day. it was only corn meal and pease and ham-bone and skins which she had for our supper. she had started a little fire, and said, "some of you close that door," for it was cold. she swung the pot over the fire and filled it with the pease and ham-bone and skins. then she seated her little brood around the fire on the pieces of blanket, where we watched with all our eyes, our hearts filled with desire, looking to see what she would do next. she took down an old broken earthen bowl, and tossed into it the little meal she had brought, stirring it up with water, making a hoe cake. she said, "one of you draw that griddle out here," and she placed it on the few little coals. perhaps this griddle you have never seen, or one like it. i will describe it to you. this griddle was a round piece of iron, quite thick, having three legs. it might have been made in a blacksmith's shop, for i have never seen one like it before or since. it was placed upon the coals, and with an old iron spoon she put on this griddle half of the corn meal she had mixed up. she said, "i will put a tin plate over this, and put it away for your breakfast." we five children were eagerly watching the pot boiling, with the pease and ham-bone. the rain was pattering on the roof of the hut. all at once there came a knock at the door. my mother answered the knock. when she opened the door, there stood a white woman and three little children, all dripping with the rain. my mother said, "in the name of the lord, where are you going on such a night, with these children?" the woman said, "auntie, i am travelling. will you please let me stop here to-night, out of the rain, with my children?" my mother said, "yes, honey. i ain't got much, but what i have got i will share with you." "god bless you!" they all came in. we children looked in wonder at what had come. but my mother scattered her own little brood and made a place for the forlorn wanderers. she said, "wait, honey, let me turn over that hoe cake." then the two women fell to talking, each telling a tale of woe. after a time, my mother called out, "here, you, louise, or some one of you, put some fagots under the pot, so these pease can get done." we couldn't put them under fast enough, first one and then another of us children, the mothers still talking. soon my mother said, "draw that hoe cake one side, i guess it is done." my mother said to the woman, "honey, ain't you got no husband?" she said, "no, my husband got killed in the war." my mother replied, "well, my husband died right after the war. i have been away from my little brood for four years. with a hard struggle, i have got them away from the farrin plantation, for they did not want to let them go. but i got them. i was determined to have them. but they would not let me have them if they could have kept them. with god's help i will keep them from starving. the white folks are good to me. they give me work, and i know, with god's help, i can get along." the white woman replied, "yes, auntie, my husband left me on a rich man's plantation. this man promised to look out for me until my husband came home; but he got killed in the war, and the yankees have set his negroes free and he said he could not help me any more, and we would have to do the best we could for ourselves. i gave my things to a woman to keep for me until i could find my kinsfolk. they live about fifty miles from here, up in the country. i am on my way there now." my mother said, "how long will it take you to get there?" "about three days, if it don't rain." my mother said, "ain't you got some way to ride there?" "no, auntie, there is no way of riding up where my folks live, the place where i am from." we hoped the talk was most ended, for we were anxiously watching that pot. pretty soon my mother seemed to realize our existence. she exclaimed, "my lord! i suppose the little children are nearly starved. are those pease done, young ones?" she turned and said to the white woman, "have you-all had anything to eat?" "we stopped at a house about dinner time, but the woman didn't have anything but some bread and buttermilk." my mother said, "well, honey, i ain't got but a little, but i will divide with you." the woman said, "thank you, auntie. you just give my children a little; i can do without it." then came the dividing. we all watched with all our eyes to see what the shares would be. my mother broke a mouthful of bread and put it on each of the tin plates. then she took the old spoon and equally divided the pea soup. we children were seated around the fire, with some little wooden spoons. but the wooden spoons didn't quite go round, and some of us had to eat with our fingers. our share of the meal, however, was so small that we were as hungry when we finished as when we began. my mother said, "take that rag and wipe your face and hands, and give it to the others and let them use it, too. put those plates upon the table." we immediately obeyed orders, and took our seats again around the fire. "one of you go and pull that straw out of the corner and get ready to go to bed." we all lay down on the straw, the white children with us, and my mother covered us over with the blanket. we were soon in the "land of nod," forgetting our empty stomachs. the two mothers still continued to talk, sitting down on the only seats, a couple of blocks. a little back against the wall my mother and the white woman slept. bright and early in the morning we were called up, and the rest of the hoe cake was eaten for breakfast, with a little meat, some coffee sweetened with molasses. the little wanderers and their mother shared our meal, and then they started again on their journey towards their home among their kinsfolk, and we never saw them again. my mother said, "god bless you! i wish you all good luck. i hope you will reach your home safely." then mother said to us, "you young ones put away that straw and sweep up the place, because i have to go to my work." but she came at noon and brought us a nice dinner, more satisfactory than the supper and breakfast we had had. we children were delighted that there were no little white children to share our meal this time. in time, my older sister, caroline, and myself got work among good people, where we soon forgot all the hard times in the little log cabin by the roadside in clayton, alabama. up to my womanhood, even to this day, these memories fill my mind. some kind friends' eyes may see these pages, and may they recall some fond memories of their happy childhood, as what i have written brings back my young life in the great sunny south. i am something of the type of moses on this 49th birthday; not that i am wrapped in luxuries, but that my thoughts are wrapped in the luxuries of the heavenly life in store for me, when my life work is done, and my friends shall be blessed by the work i shall have done. for god has commanded me to write this book, that some one may read and receive comfort and courage to do what god commands them to do. god bless every soul who shall read this true life story of one born in slavery. it is now six years since the inspiration to write this book came to me in the franklin evening school. i have struggled on, helped by friends. god said, "write the book and i will help you." and he has. it was through a letter of my life that the principal of the franklin school said, "write the book and i will help you." but he died before the next term, and i worked on. on this, my 49th birthday, i can say i believe that the book is close to the finish. my life is like the summer rose that opens to the morning sky, but ere the shades of evening close is scattered on the ground to die. yet on the rose's humble bed the sweetest dews of night are shed, as if she wept a tear for me, as if she wept the waste to see. my life is like the autumn leaf that trembles in the moon's pale ray. its hold is frail, its date is brief, restless, and soon to pass away. yet, ere that leaf shall fall and fade, the parent tree will mourn its shade, the winds bewail the leafless tree; but none shall breathe a sigh for me. my life is like the prints which feet have left on tampa's desert strand. soon as the rising tide shall beat all trace will vanish from the sand. yet, as if grieving to efface all vestige of the human race, on that lone shore loud moans the sea. but none, alas, shall mourn for me. a vision there remains to be told the story of my conversion and how i came to write the foregoing history of my life. in 1875 i was taken sick. i thought i was going to die, and i promised the lord i would serve him if he would only spare my life. when i got well again, however, i forgot all about my promise. then i was taken sick again. it seemed i had to go through a dark desert place, where great demons stood on either side. in the distance i could just see a dim light, and i tried to get to this light, but could not reach it. then i found myself in a great marsh, and was sinking. i threw up my hands and said, "lord, if thou wilt raise me from this pit, i will never fail to serve thee." then it seemed as if i mounted on wings into the air, and all the demons that stood about made a great roaring. my flight ended on the top of a hill. but i was troubled because i could not find the light. all at once, at the sound of a loud peal of thunder, the earth opened, and i fell down into the pits of hell. again i prayed to god to save me from this, and again i promised to serve him. my prayer was answered, and i was able to fly out of the pit, on to a bank. at the foot of the little hill on which i sat were some little children, and they called to me to come down. but i could not get down. then the children raised a ladder for me, and i came down among them. a little cherub took me by the hand and led me in the river of badjied of jordan. i looked at my ankles and shoulders and discovered i had little wings. on the river was a ship. the children, the cherub and i got into the ship. when we reached a beautiful spot, the little cherub made the ship fast, and there opened before us pearly gates, and we all passed through into the golden street. the street led to the throne of god, about which we marched. then the cherub conducted us to a table where a feast was spread. then the children vanished. the cherub took me by the hand, and said, "go back into the world, and tell the saints and sinners what a savior you have found, and if you prove faithful i will take you to heaven to live forever, when i come again." when i recovered from my sickness, i was baptized by the rev. dr. pope, and joined the church in macon. when i came north, i brought my letter. not finding any church for colored people, i came among the white people, and was treated so kindly that i became very much attached to them. the first church i became connected with in the north, was in newtonville. when i came to boston, i went to the warren avenue baptist church. before my marriage i joined tremont temple, when dr. lorimer was its pastor. when the church was burned, my letter was destroyed, but when i went south on a visit i had the letter duplicated, and took it to the new temple. i am still a member of the temple, and hope to remain there as long as god gives me life. five years ago, i began to go to the franklin evening school. mr. guild was the master. at one time he requested all the pupils to write the story of their lives, and he considered my composition so interesting he said he thought if i could work it up and enlarge upon it, i could write a book. he promised to help me. my teacher was miss emerson, and she was interested in me. but the next year miss emerson gave up teaching, and mr. guild died. in each of the terms that i have attended, i have received the certificates showing that i have been regular and punctual in attendance, have maintained good deportment, and shown general proficiency in the studies. i would have graduated in 1907, had it not been for sickness. the following was to have been my graduating composition. abraham lincoln by annie l. burton in a little clearing in the backwoods of harding county, kentucky, there stood years ago a rude cabin within whose walls abraham lincoln passed his childhood. an "unaccountable" man he has been called, and the adjective was well chosen, for who could account for a mind and nature like lincoln's with the ancestry he owned? his father was a thriftless, idle carpenter, scarcely supporting his family, and with but the poorest living. his mother was an uneducated woman, but must have been of an entirely different nature, for she was able to impress upon her boy a love of learning. during her life, his chief, in fact his only book, was the bible, and in this he learned to read. just before he was nine years old, the father brought his family across the ohio river into illinois, and there in the unfloored log cabin, minus windows and doors, abraham lived and grew. it was during this time that the mother died, and in a short time the shiftless father with his family drifted back to the old home, and here found another for his children in one who was a friend of earlier days. this woman was of a thrifty nature, and her energy made him floor the cabin, hang doors, and open up windows. she was fond of the children and cared for them tenderly, and to her the boy abraham owed many pleasant hours. as he grew older, his love for knowledge increased and he obtained whatever books he could, studying by the firelight, and once walking six miles for an english grammar. after he read it, he walked the six miles to return it. he needed the book no longer, for with this as with his small collection of books, what he once read was his. he absorbed the books he read. during these early years he did "odd jobs" for the neighbors. even at this age, his gift of story telling was a notable one, as well as his sterling honesty. his first knowledge of slavery in all its horrors came to him when he was about twenty-one years old. he had made a trip to new orleans, and there in the old slave market he saw an auction. his face paled, and his spirits rose in revolt at the coarse jest of the auctioneer, and there he registered a vow within himself, "if ever i have a chance to strike against slavery, i will strike and strike hard." to this end he worked and for this he paid "the last full measure of devotion." his political life began with a defeat for the illinois legislature in 1830, but he was returned in 1834, 1836, 1838, and declined re-election in 1840, preferring to study law and prepare for his future. "honest abe" he has been called, and throughout illinois that characteristic was the prominent one known of him. from this time his rise was rapid. sent to the congress of the nation, he seldom spoke, but when he did his terse though simple expression always won him a hearing. his simplicity and frankness was deceptive to the political leaders, and from its very fearlessness often defeated them. his famous debates with senator douglas, the "little giant," spread his reputation from one end of the country to the other, and at their close there was no question as to lincoln's position in the north, or on the vital question of the day. the spirit of forbearance he carried with him to the white house, "with malice toward none, with charity for all." this was the spirit that carried him through the four awful years of the war. the martyr's crown hovered over him from the outset. the martyr's spirit was always his. the burden of the war always rested on his shoulders. the fathers, sons and brothers, the honored dead of gettysburg, of antietam, all lay upon his mighty heart. he never forgot his home friends, and when occasionally one dropped in on him, the door was always open. they frequently had tea in the good old-fashioned way, and then lincoln listened to the news of the village, old stories were retold, new ones told, and the old friendships cemented by new bonds. then came the end, swift and sudden, and gloom settled upon the country; for in spite of ancestry, self-education, ungainly figure, ill-fitting clothes, the soul of the man had conquered even the stubborn south, while the cold-blooded north was stricken to the heart. the noblest one of all had been taken. the race question in america by dr. p. thomas stanford author of the "tragedy of the negro in america" as a member of the negro race, i myself have suffered as a child whose parents were born in slavery, deprived of all influences of the ennobling life, made obedient to the will of the white man by the lash and chain, and sold to the highest bidder when there was no more use for them. the first negro fact for white thought is--that my clients, the colored people here in america, are not responsible for being here any more than they are responsible for their conditions of ignorance and poverty. they suddenly emerge from their prison house poor, without a home, without food or clothing, and ignorant. now the enemies of god and of the progress of civilization in our country are to-day introducing a system of slavery with which they hope to again enslave the colored people. to carry out their evil designs they retain able politicians, lawyers and newspapers to represent them, such as senator tillman, the hon. john temple graves of georgia and the baltimore sun, and they are trying the negro on four counts which allege that the race is ignorant, cannot be taught, is lazy and immoral. now, are the negroes, as a whole, guilty of these charges? in the first place, the negro race of america is not ignorant. in the year 1833 john c. calhoun, senator from south carolina, is reported to have said that if he could find a single negro who understood the greek syntax, he would believe the negro was human and would treat him as such. at that time it was a very safe test. god accepted the challenge in behalf of the negro race, and inspired his white sons and daughters both in the north and south to teach their brothers in black; and a few years afterward black men were examined and the world pronounced them scholars, while later still the schools were using a greek grammar written by a black man, w. s. scarborough of wilberforce, o. in his class were frederick douglas, henry highland garnett, robert elliot, the rev. j. c. price and john m. langstone, as defenders of the race. bishop allen payne, bishop hood and john b. reaver will ever be remembered for their godly piety and christian example, as we shall also remember bishop, sumner and bubois for their great literary productions, william washington brown as the greatest organizer and financier of the century, prof. booker washington as the greatest industrial educator of the world, and last, but not least, thomas condon, the greatest crank for the spiritual training and higher education of the negro race. under the leadership of such men, assisted by our white friends and backed up by our colored race journals--the christian banner of philadelphia, the christian recorder, the star of zion and the afro-american ledger of baltimore, ind., the national baptist union of pennsylvania, the age of new york, the christian organizer of virginia and the guardian of boston--our onward march to civilization is phenomenal and by these means we have reduced illiteracy 50 per cent. in the south we have over $12,000,000 worth of school property, 3,000 teachers, 50 high schools, 17 academies, 125 colleges, 10 law and medical schools, 25 theological seminaries, all doing a mighty work for god and humanity. now as to laziness. we have now in practice 14,000 lawyers and doctors, and have accumulated over $150,000,000 worth of church property. in the south we have over 150,000 farms and houses, valued at $900,000,000, and personal property at $170,000,000. we have raised over $11,000,000 for educational purposes. the property per capita for every colored man, woman and child in the united states is estimated at $75, and we are operating successfully several banks and factories; we have 7,500,000 acres of land, and the business activity of the colored people was never as thoroughly aroused as it is to-day. when i come to deal with the charge of immorality i bow my head and blush for shame, first because if the charge be true, i see they are getting like the white man every day. i know that at the close of the american civil war the 4,000,000 negroes had more than 25 per cent. of white blood coursing through their veins. what about this new educated negro? just ask the pullman car company, which employs hundreds of negroes, into whose care thousands of women and children of our best american families are entrusted every day. now, you cannot do without the negro, because if you send him away, you will run after him. he is here to stay. the only way to deal successfully with the colored race is god's way. first, recognize that he is your guest; second, recognize that you have robbed him of his birthplace, home, family and savings. it is these facts that are causing so much unrest on the part of the whites in this country. the negro loves his country, which he has proved beyond a doubt in every american battle, in every act of loyalty to his country, and in his long and patient suffering. pay him what you owe him by educating him. give him an opportunity to live. allow him to live in decent parts of your city. pay wages sufficient to support his children. do this and god will remove the objectionable negro from the land. * * * * * the negro stands to-day upon an eminence that overlooks more than two decades spent in efforts to ameliorate the condition of seven million immortal souls by opening before their hitherto dark and cheerless lives possibilities of development into a perfect and symmetrical manhood and womanhood. the retrospect presents to us a picture of a people's moral degradation and mental gloom caused by slavery. a people absolutely sunk in the lowest depth of a poverty which reduced them to objects of charity and surrounded them with difficulties which have ever stood as impregnable barriers in their way to speedy advancement in all those qualities that make the useful citizen. every influence of state and society life seems to be against their progress and like some evil genius, these negro hating ghosts are forever hunting them with the idea that their future must be one of subserviency to the white race. hated and oppressed by the combined wisdom, wealth and statesmanship of a mighty confederacy who watched and criticised their mistakes which were strongly magnified by those who fain would write destruction upon the emancipation; they are expected to rise from this condition. the idea of giving to the newly enfranchised a sound, practical education was considered at the dawn of freedom, an easy solution of what as an unsolved problem threatened the perpetuity of republican institutions. within a year from the firing on sumter, benevolent and farsighted northern friends had established schools from washington to the gulf of mexico, which became centers of light penetrating the darkness and scattering the blessings of an enlightened manhood far and wide. the history of the world cannot produce a more affecting spectacle than the growth of this mighty christian philanthropy which, in beginning amid the din of battle, has steadily marched on through every opposing influence, and lifted a race from weakness to strength, from poverty to wealth, from moral and intellectual nonentity to place and power among the nations of the earth. we have ten millions of colored people in the united states whose condition is much better to-day than it was fifty years ago. then he had nothing, not even a name. to-day he has 160,000 farms under good cultivation and valued at $4,000,000 and has personal property valued at $200,000,000. in the southland the negroes own 160 first-class drug stores, nine banks, 13 building associations, and 100 insurance and benefit companies, two street railways and an electric at jacksonville, fla., which they started some few years ago when the white people passed the jim crow law for that state. now it is reckoned that the negroes in the united states are paying about $700,000,000 property taxes and this is only one-fifth of all they have accumulated, for the negro is getting more like the white people every day and has learned from him that it is not a sign of loyalty and patriotism to publish his property at its full taxable value. in education and morals the progress is still greater. as you all know, at the close of the war the whole race was practically illiterate. it was a rare thing, indeed, to find a man of the race who even knew his letters. in 1880 the illiteracy had fallen to 70 per cent. and rapid strides along that line have been made ever since. to-day there are 37,000 negro teachers in america, of which number 23,000 are regular graduates of high and normal schools and colleges, 23 are college presidents, 169 are principals of seminaries and many are principals of higher institutions. at present there are 369 negro men and women taking courses in the universities of europe. the negro ministry, together with these teachers have been prepared for their work by our schools and are the greatest factors the north has produced for the uplift of the colored man. to-day there are those who wish to impede the negro's progress and lessen his educational advantages by industrializing such colleges as howard university of washington by placing on their boards of trustees and managers the pronounced leaders of industrialism, giving as a reason that the better he is educated the worse he is; in other words, they say crime has increased among educated negroes. while stern facts show the opposite, the exact figures from the last census show that the greater proportion of the negro criminals are from the illiterate class. to-day the marriage vow, which by the teaching of the whites the negro held to be of so little importance before the war, is guarded more sacredly. the one room cabin, with its attendant evils, is passing away, and the negro woman, the mightiest moral factor in the life of her people, is beginning to be more careful in her deportment and is no longer the easy victim of the unlicensed passion of certain white men. this is a great gain and is a sign of real progress, for no race can rise higher than its women. let me plead with the friends of the negro. please continue to give him higher ideals of a better life and stand by him in the struggle. he has done well with the opportunities given him and is doing something along all the walks of life to help himself, which is gratitude of the best sort. what he needs to-day is moral sympathy, which in his condition years ago he could hardly appreciate. the sympathy must be moral, not necessarily social. it must be the sympathy of a soul set on fire for righteousness and fair play in a republic like ours. a sympathy which will see to it that every man shall have a man's chance in all the affairs of this great nation which boasts of being the land of the free and the home of the brave for which the black man has suffered and done so much in every sense of the word. let this great christian nation of eighty millions of people do justice to the black battalion, and seeing president roosevelt acknowledges that he overstepped the bounds of his power in discharging and renouncing them before they had a fair trial, and now that they are vindicated before the world, to take back what he called them, cutthroats, brutal murderers, black midnight assassins, and cowards. this and this alone will to some extent atone for the wrong he has done and help him to regain the respect and confidence of the world. now in order to change the condition of things, i would suggest: first, that an international, industrial association be formed to help afro-americans to engage in manufacturing and commercial pursuits, assist them to buy farms, erect factories, open shops in which their young men and women can enter and produce what the world requires every day for its inhabitants. if they were able to-day to produce the articles in common use as boots, shoes, hats, cotton and woolen goods, made-up clothing and enterprises such as farming, mining, forging, carpentering, etc., negroes would find a ready sale in preference to all others, because of its being a race enterprise, doing what no other corporation does, giving employment to members of the race as tradesmen, and teaching others to become skilled workers. these enterprises should be started in the southern, northern and western states, where the negro population will warrant such an undertaking. i would suggest "a school history of the negro race" to be placed in our public schools as a text book. the general tone of all the histories taught in our public schools points to the inferiority of the negro and the superiority of the white. it must be indeed a stimulus to any people to be able to refer to their ancestry as distinguished in deeds of valor, and particularly so to the colored people. with what eyes can the white child look upon the colored child and the colored child look upon himself, when they have completed the assigned course of united states history, and in it found not one word of credit, not one word of favorable comment for even one among the millions of his fore-parents who have lived through nearly three centuries of his country's history. in them he is credited with no heritage of valor, he is mentioned only as a slave, while true historical records prove him to have been among the bravest of soldiers and a faithful producer of the nation's wealth. though then a slave to the government, the negro's was the first blood shed in its defence in those days when a foreign foe threatened its destruction. in each and all of the american wars the negro was faithful, yes, faithful in battle while members of his race were being lynched to death; faithful to a land not his own in points of rights and freedom, all and that after he had enriched with his own life's blood, shouldered his musket to defend, when all this was done, regarded him with renewed terms, black, negro. last but not least the negro needs a daily newspaper in every large city, managed and edited by members of the race. such papers are needed to deal with questions of state and reflect the thoughts of the social world, to enter the province of ethics and tread the domain of morals and to give their opinion on the varying phases of religious truths and pass judgment on matters of a political nature. there are hidden wrongs perpetrated by the whites against the negro race that will never be brought to light until the race owns and controls its own daily newspapers which alone have the power to discover and enthrone truth, thus becoming a safe guide to all honest seekers of facts respecting the race whether from a moral, educational, political or religious field. to carry out the plans suggested, whether viewed from an intellectual, industrial, commercial, or editorial standpoint, the world must acknowledge that to-day the negro race has the men and women, who are true to their race and all that stands for negro progress. historical composition by annie l. burton it is only 132 years ago to-day that the british troops, who had occupied boston, made a riding school of the old south church, and otherwise sacrilegiously disported themselves, were persuaded to get out under the compulsion of the batteries set up on dorchester heights. but when the last company embarked for halifax, it carried the last british flag ever unfurled by a military organization on massachusetts soil. that was the end of foreign domination in massachusetts. and by a happy coincidence this is the legendary anniversary of the birth of st. patrick, the patron saint of ireland, whose memory has been an inspiration in the struggle of another race for liberty. a question of ethics new york, dec. 17.--andrew carnegie declared yesterday in a speech on the negro question that the negroes are a blessing to america, and that their presence in the south makes this country impregnable and without need of a navy to defend itself. "suppose," said mr. carnegie, "great britain were to send her war fleets to america. it would amount to nothing. all that the president of the united states would have to do would be to say, 'stop exporting cotton.' the war would be ended in four days, for england cannot do without our cotton. "we don't need a navy; we are impregnable. because we have 9,000,000 colored men anxious and willing to work we hold this strong position, and i am interested in the negro from this material standpoint, as well as from the more humane point of view." my favorite poems verses on a green slope, most fragrant with the spring, one sweet, fair day i planted a red rose, that grew, beneath my tender nourishing, so tall, so riotous of bloom, that those who passed the little valley where it grew smiled at its beauty. all the air was sweet about it! still i tended it, and knew that he would come, e'en as it grew complete. and a day brought him! up i led him, where in the warm sun my rose bloomed gloriously- smiling and saying, lo, is it not fair? and all for thee--all thine! but he passed by coldly, and answered, rose? i see no rose,- leaving me standing in the barren vale alone! alone! feeling the darkness close deep o'er my heart, and all my being fail. then came one, gently, yet with eager tread, begging one rose-bud--but my rose was dead. verses the old, old wind that whispers to old trees, round the dark country when the sun has set, goes murmuring still of unremembered seas and cities of the dead that men forget- an old blind beggar-man, distained and gray, with ancient tales to tell, mumbling of this and that upon his way, strange song and muttered spell- neither to east or west, or south or north, his habitation lies, this roofless vagabond who wanders forth aye under alien skies- a gypsy of the air, he comes and goes between the tall trees and the shadowed grass, and what he tells only the twilight knows ... the tall trees and the twilight hear him pass. to him the dead stretch forth their strengthless hands, he who campaigns in other climes than this, he who is free of the unshapen lands, the empty homes of dis. verses out of the scattered fragments of castles i built in the air i gathered enough together to fashion a cottage with care; thoughtfully, slowly, i planned it, and little by little it grew- perfect in form and in substance, because i designed it for you. the castles that time has shattered gleamed spotless and pearly white as they stood in the misty distance that borders the land of delight; sleeping and waking i saw them grow brighter and fairer each day; but, alas! at the touch of a finger they trembled and crumbled away! then out of the dust i gathered a bit of untarnished gold, and a gem unharmed by contact with stones of a baser mold; for sometimes a priceless jewel gleams wondrously pure and fair from glittering paste foundations of castles we see in the air. so, i turned from the realms of fancy, as remote as the stars above, and into the land of the living i carried the jewel of love; the mansions of dazzling brightness have crumbled away, it is true; but firm upon gold foundations stands the cottage i built for you! verses you do but jest, sir, and you jest not well. how could the hand be enemy of the arm, or seed and sod be rivals? how could light feel jealousy of heat, plant of the leaf, or competition dwell 'twixt lip and smile? are we not part and parcel of yourselves? like strands in one great braid we intertwine and make the perfect whole. you could not be unless we gave you birth: we are the soil from which you sprang, yet sterile were that soil save as you planted. (though in the book we read one woman bore a child with no man's aid, we find no record of a man-child born without the aid of woman! fatherhood is but a small achievement at the best, while motherhood is heaven and hell.) this ever-growing argument of sex is most unseemly, and devoid of sense. why waste more time in controversy, when there is not time enough for all of love, our rightful occupation in this life? why prate of our defects--of where we fail, when just the story of our worth would need eternity for telling; and our best development comes ever through your praise, as through our praise you reach your highest self? oh! had you not been miser of your praise and let our virtues be their own reward, the old established order of the world would never have been changed. small blame is ours for this unsexing of ourselves, and worse effeminizing of the male. we were content, sir, till you starved us, heart and brain. all we have done, or wise or otherwise, traced to the root, was done for love of you. let us taboo all vain comparisons, and go forth as god meant us, hand in hand, companions, mates and comrades evermore; two parts of one divinely ordained whole. verses a widow had two sons, and one knelt at her knees, and sought to give her joy and toiled to give her ease; he heard his country's call and longed to go, to die if god so willed, but saw her tears and heard her sigh. a widow had two sons, one filled her days with care and creased her brow and brought her many a whitened hair his country called--he went. nor thought to say good-by, and recklessly he fought, and died as heroes die. a widow had two sons, one fell as heroes fall, and one remained and toiled, and gave to her his all. she watched "her hero's" grave in dismal days and fair, and told the world her love, her heart was buried there. our mission in the legends of the norsemen, stories quaint and weird and wild, there's a strange and thrilling story, of a mother and her child. and that child, so runs the story, in those quaint old norsemen books, fell one day from dangerous play ground, dashed in pieces on the rocks; but with gentle hand that mother gathered every tender part, bore them gently, torn and bleeding, on her loving mother heart. and within her humble dwelling, strong in faith and brave of soul, with her love-song low and tender rocked and sang the fragments whole. such the mission of the christian, taught by christ so long ago; this the mark that bids us stay not, this the spirit each should know: rent and torn by sin the race is, heart from heart, and soul from soul; this our task with christ's sweet love-song, join, and heal, and make them whole. --_rev. e. m. bartlett_ verses lord over all! whose power the sceptre swayed, ere first creation's wondrous form was framed, when by his will divine all things were made; then, king, almighty was his name proclaimed. when all shall cease--the universe be o'er, in awful greatness he alone will reign, who was, who is, and who will evermore in glory most refulgent still remain. sole god! unequalled and beyond compare, without division or associate; without commencing date, or final year, omnipotent he reigns in awful state. he is my god! my living savior he! my sheltering rock in sad misfortune's hour! my standard, refuge, portion, still shall be, my lot's disposer when i seek his power. into his hands my spirit i consign whilst wrapped in sleep, that i again may wake, and with my soul, my body i resign; the lord's with me--no fears my soul can shake. the creation by annie l. burton the earth, the firmament on high, with all the blue ethereal sky, were made by god's creative power six thousand years ago or more. man, too, was formed to till the ground; birds, beasts, and fish to move around; the fish to swim, the birds to fly, and all to praise the love most high. this world is round, wise men declare, and hung on nothing in the air. the moon around the earth doth run; the earth moves on its center, too; the earth and moon around the sun as wheels and tops and pulleys do. water and land make up the whole, from east to west, from pole to pole. vast mountains rear their lofty heads, rivers roll down their sandy beds; and all join in one grand acclaim to praise the lord's almighty name. my favorite hymns the ninety and nine there were ninety and nine that safely lay in the shelter of the fold, but one was out on the hills away, far-off from the gates of gold- away on the mountains lone and bare, away from the tender shepherd's care. "lord, thou hast here thy ninety and nine: are they not enough for thee?" but the shepherd made answer: "this of mine has wandered away from me, and, although the road be rough and steep, i go to the desert to find my sheep." but none of the ransomed ever knew how deep were the waters crossed; nor how dark was the night that the lord passed through ere he found his sheep that was lost. out in the desert he heard the cry- sick and helpless, and ready to die. "lord, whence are those blood-drops all the way that mark out the mountain's track?" "they were shed for one who had gone astray ere the shepherd could bring him back." "lord, whence are thy hands so rent and torn?" "they are pierced tonight by many a thorn." but all through the mountains, thunder-riven, and up from the rocky steep, there arose a glad cry to the height of heaven, "rejoice! i have found my sheep!" and the angels echoed around the throne: "rejoice, for the lord brings back his own!" my faith looks up to thee my faith looks up to thee, thou lamb of calvary, saviour divine! now hear me while i pray, take all my guilt away, o, let me from this day be wholly thine. may thy rich grace impart strength to my fainting heart, my zeal inspire; as thou hast died for me, o, may my love to thee pure, warm, and changeless be, a living fire. when ends life's transient dream, when death's cold, sullen stream shall o'er me roll, blest saviour, then, in love, fear and distrust remove; o, bear me safe above, a ransomed soul. jordan's strand my days are gliding swiftly by, and i, a pilgrim stranger, would not detain them as they fly, those hours of toil and danger. _chorus_ for, o we stand on jordan's strand, our friends are passing over; and, just before, the shining shore we may almost discover! we'll gird our loins, my brethren dear, our heavenly home discerning; our absent lord has left us word, "let every lamp be burning." should coming days be cold and dark, we need not cease our singing; that perfect rest nought can molest, where golden harps are ringing. let sorrow's rudest tempest blow, each cord on earth to sever; our king says, "come!" and there's our home, forever, o forever. over the line o tender and sweet was the master's voice as he lovingly call'd to me, "come over the line, it is only a step- i am waiting my child, for thee." _refrain_ "over the line," hear the sweet refrain, angels are chanting the heavenly strain: "over the line,"--why should i remain with a step between me and jesus? but my sins are many, my faith is small, lo! the answer came quick and clear; "thou needest not trust in thyself at all, step over the line, i am here." but my flesh is weak, i tearfully said, and the way i cannot see; i fear if i try i may sadly fail, and thus may dishonor thee. ah, the world is cold, and i cannot go back press forward i surely must; i will place my hand in his wounded palm step over the line, and trust. o could i speak the matchless worth o could i speak the matchless worth, o could i sound the glories forth, which in my saviour shine, i'd soar, and touch the heav'nly strings, and vie with gabriel while he sings, in notes almost divine. i'd sing the precious blood he spilt, my ransom from the dreadful guilt of sin and wrath divine; i'd sing his glorious righteousness, in which all-perfect, heavenly dress my soul shall ever shine. i'd sing the characters he bears, and all the forms of love he wears, exalted on his throne; in loftiest songs of sweetest praise, i would to everlasting days make all his glories known. well, the delightful day will come when my dear lord will bring me home, and i shall see his face; then with my saviour, brother, friend, a blest eternity i'll spend, triumphant in his grace. o god, beneath thy guiding hand o god, beneath thy guiding hand, our exiled fathers cross'd the sea; and when they trod the wintry strand, with pray'r and psalm they worshipp'd thee. thou heard'st, well pleased, the song, the prayer: thy blessing came and still its power shall onward through all ages bear the memory of that holy hour. laws, freedom, truth, and faith in god came with those exiles o'er the waves; and where their pilgrim feet have trod, the god they trusted guards their graves. and here thy name, o god of love, their children's children shall adore till these eternal hills remove and spring adorns the earth no more. america my country, 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee i sing; land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrim's pride, from every mountain side let freedom ring. my native country, thee, land of the noble free, thy name i love; i love thy rocks and rills, thy woods and templed hills; my heart with rapture thrills like that above. let music swell the breeze, and ring from all the trees sweet freedom's song; let mortal tongues awake, let all that breathe partake, let rocks their silence break, the sound prolong. our fathers' god to thee, author of liberty, to thee we sing; long may our land be bright with freedom's holy light; protect us with thy might, great god our king. in the cross of christ i glory in the cross of christ i glory, towering o'er the wrecks of time; all the light of sacred story gathers round its head sublime. when the woes of life o'ertake me, hopes deceive and fears annoy, never shall the cross forsake me: lo! it glows with peace and joy. when the sun of bliss is beaming light and love upon my way, from the cross the radiance streaming, add more luster to the day. bane and blessing, pain and pleasure, by the cross are sanctified; peace is there that knows no measure, joys that through all time abide. guide me, o thou great jehovah guide me, o thou great jehovah, pilgrim thro' this barren land; i am weak, but thou art mighty; hold me with thy pow'rful hand; bread of heaven, feed me till i want no more. open now the crystal fountain whence the healing waters flow; let the fiery, cloudy pillar lead me all my journey through; strong deliverer, be thou still my strength and shield. when i tread the verge of jordan, bid my anxious fears subside; bear me through the swelling current, land me safe on canaan's side; songs of praises i will ever give to thee. christ receiveth sinful men sinners jesus will receive; sound this word of grace to all who the heav'nly pathway leave, all who linger, all who fall. _chorus_ sing it o'er and o'er again: christ receiveth sinful men; make the message clear and plain: christ receiveth sinful men. come, and he will give you rest; trust him, for his word is plain; he will take the sinfulest; christ receiveth sinful men. christ receiveth sinful men, even me with all my sin; purged from ev'ry spot and stain, heav'n with him i enter in. some day the silver cord will break some day the silver cord will break, and i no more as now shall sing; but, o, the joy when i shall wake within the palace of the king! and i shall see him face to face, and tell the story--saved by grace. some day my earthly house will fall, i cannot tell how soon 'twill be, but this i know--my all in all has now a place in heaven for me. some day; till then i'll watch and wait, my lamp all trimmed and burning bright, that when my saviour ope's the gate. my soul to him may take its flight. battle hymn of the republic mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the lord; he is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored; he hath loos'd the fateful lightning of his terrible swift sword; his truth is marching on. i have seen him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps; they have builded him an altar in the evening dews and damps; i can read his righteous sentence in the dim and flaring lamps; his day is marching on. i have read a fiery gospel writ in burnished rows of steel, "as ye deal with my contemners, so with you my grace shall deal"; let the hero born of woman crush the serpent with his heel; since god is marching on. he has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never sound retreat, he is sifting out the hearts of men before his judgment seat; o, be swift, my soul, to answer him, be jubilant, my feet! our god is marching on. in the beauty of the lilies christ was born across the sea, with a glory in his bosom that transfigures you and me; as he died to make men holy, let us die to make men free, while god is marching on. biography of a slave being the experiences of rev. charles thompson, a preacher of the united brethren church, while a slave in the south. together with startling occurrences incidental to slave life. 1875. preface. in publishing this book i hope to do good not only to my own race, but to all who may read it. i am not a book-maker, and make no pretensions to literary attainments; and i have made no efforts to create for myself a place in the literary, book-making ranks. i claim for my book truthfulness and honesty of purpose, and upon that basis it must succeed or fail. the biography of a slave is called for by a very large number of my immediate acquaintances, and, i am assured, will meet with such reception as to justify the expense i have incurred in having it printed and bound. to the members of the united brethren church, white as well as colored, i look for help in the sale and circulation of my work, yet i am satisfied i will receive commendable patronage from members of all christian churches everywhere. the book is written in the narrative style, as being much better suited to the tastes and capacities of my colored readers, and i have used simple and plain english language, discarding the idiomatic and provincial language of the southern slaves and ignorant whites, expecting thereby to help educate the blacks in the use of proper language. i am indebted to william h. rhodes, esq., attorney at law, of newman, douglas county, illinois, for his valuable assistance in the preparation of my manuscript for the printer. he has re-written the whole of it for me, and has otherwise assisted me in the matter of placing the book before the public. charles thompson. newman, illinois, aug., 1874. contents. chapter i. charles thompson, born in atala county, mississippi--division of kirkwood's slaves among his six children--the writer and his two sisters fall to mrs. wilson--the parting between mother and child--deprived of a fond mother forever--old uncle jack--wilson buys uncle ben from strucker--uncle ben runs away and is hunted with blood-hounds--two hundred dollars reward. chapter ii. not sent to hell by wilson--mrs. wilson protects me, to whom i belong--sent to school with the children--the school-children teach me to read and write--what came of it--mount that mule or i'll shoot you--i mounted the mule--a start for the railroad to work--i dismount and take to the woods--i owe allegiance to god and my country only. chapter iii. caught, tried, and taken back home to james wilson--my mistress saves me from being whipped--i go to the railroad and work one month precisely--go back home--wilson surprised--left the railroad at 3 o'clock a.m.--did not want to disturb leadbitter's rest--sent to memphis with a load of cotton--afraid of the slave-pens and slave-auction--start for home--not sold--pray, sing, and shout--get home and ordered to hire myself out. chapter iv. start out on my travels to hunt a new master--find mr. dansley--hire to him--thirty dollars per month for my master and five dollars for myself--wilson astonished--appointed superintendent of dansley's farm--rules and regulations--peace and tranquillity--my moral labors successful--prayer and social meetings--meetings in the woods--quarrel and fight like very brothers--time comes to be moved to another field of labor. chapter v. james wilson comes along--wants me to go with him to saulsbury, tennessee, to help build a house for a grocery-store--takes me along with him--wilson taken sick--i take care of him--he gels well--i make another attempt to escape from slavery--what came of it. chapter vi. was hired to mr. thompson, and adopted his name--opened regular meetings, and preached on the plantation and other places--took unto myself a wife--was purchased by thompson, duly installed on the plantation, and invested with authority--various means and plans resorted to by the overseer to degrade me in the eyes of mr. thompson--driven, through persecution, to run away--return back to my master. biography of a slave. * * * * * chapter i. charles thompson, born in atala county, mississippi--division of kirkwood's slaves among his six children--the writer and his two sisters fall to mrs. wilson--the parting between mother and child--deprived of a fond mother forever--old uncle jack--wilson buys uncle ben from strucker--uncle ben runs away and is hunted with blood-hounds--two hundred dollars reward. i was a slave, and was born in atala county, mississippi, near the town of rockford, on the third day of march, 1833. my father and mother both being slaves, of course my pedigree is not traceable, by me, farther back than my parents. our family belonged to a man named kirkwood, who was a large slave-owner. kirkwood died when i was about nine years old, after which, upon the settlement of the affairs of his estate, the slaves belonging to the estate were divided equally, as to value, among the six heirs. there were about seventy-five slaves to be divided into six lots; and great was the tribulation among the poor blacks when they learned that they were to be separated. when the division was completed two of my sisters and myself were cast into one lot, my mother into another, and my father into another, and the rest of the family in the other lots. young and slave as i was, i felt the pang of separation from my loved and revered mother; child that i was i mourned for mother, even before our final separation, as one dead to me forever. so early to be deprived of a fond mother, by the "law," gave me my first view of the curse of slavery. until this time i did not know what trouble was, but from then until the tocsin of freedom was sounded through the glorious emancipation proclamation by the immortal abraham lincoln, i passed through hardship after hardship, in quick succession, and many, many times i have almost seen and tasted death. i bade farewell to my mother, forever, on this earth. oh! the pangs of that moment. even after thirty years have elapsed the scene comes vividly to my memory as i write. a gloomy, dark cloud seemed to pass before my vision, and the very air seemed to still with awfulness. i felt bereaved, forlorn, forsaken, lost. put yourself in my place; feel what i have felt, and then say, god is just; he will protect the helpless and right the wronged, and you will have some idea of my feelings and the hope that sustained me through long and weary years of servitude. my mother, my poor mother! what must she have suffered. never will i forget her last words; never will i forget the earnest prayers of that mother begging for her child, and refusing to be comforted. she had fallen to the lot of mrs. anderson, and she pleaded with burning tears streaming down her cheeks, "he is my only son, my baby child, my youngest and the only son i have; please let me have him to go with me!" anderson spoke roughly to her and told her to hold her peace; but with her arms around me she clung to me and cried the louder, "let me have my child; if you will let me have my baby you may have all the rest!" mothers can realize this situation only, who have parted with children whom they never expected to see again. imagine parting with your dearest child, never to see it again; to be thrown into life-servitude in one part of the country and your dear child in the same condition six hundred miles away. although my mother was black, she had a soul; she had a heart to feel just as you have, and i, her child, was being ruthlessly torn from her by inexorable "law." what would you have done if you had been in her place? _she_ prayed to god for help. my kind old father consoled and encouraged my mother all he could, and said to her, "do not be discouraged, for jesus is your friend; if you lack for knowledge, he will inform you, and if you meet with troubles and trials on your way, cast all your cares on jesus, and don't forget to pray." the old man spoke these words while praying, shouting, crying, and saying farewell to my mother. he had, in a manner, raised nearly all the colored people on the plantation; so he had a fatherly feeling for all of them. the old man looked down on me, and said, "my child, you are now without a father and will soon be without a mother; but be a good boy, and god will be father and mother to you. if you will put your trust in him and pray to him, he will take you home to heaven when you die, where you can meet your mother there, where parting will be no more. farewell." i was then taken from my mother, and have not seen or heard of her since--about twenty-nine years ago. old uncle jack, as my father was called by the plantation people, spoke words of comfort to all of us before we were parted. the lot of human chattels, of which i was one, was taken to their new home on wilson's plantation, in the same county as the kirkwood plantation. wilson told my sisters and myself that our mother and ourselves were about six hundred miles apart. after i had been in my new home about two years, wilson bought my uncle ben from a man named strucker, who lived in the same neighborhood, but he did not buy uncle ben's wife. two years later wilson moved to another plantation he owned in pontotoc county, mississippi, about one hundred miles distant from his atala county plantation. ben not being willing to go so far from his wife, ran away from his master. wilson, however, left word that if any one would catch and return ben to him, he would pay two hundred dollars. this was a bait not to be resisted. the professional slave-hunters, with their blood-hounds, were soon on the track. they failed to get the poor hunted man, though. ben was a religious, god-fearing man, and placed firm reliance on the help of the almighty, in his serious trials, and never failed to find help when most needed. he stayed under cover in the woods, in such lurking places as the nature of the country provided, in the day time, and at night would cautiously approach his wife's cabin, when, at an appointed signal, she would let him in and give him such food and care as his condition required. the slaves of the south were united in the one particular of helping each other in such cases as this, and would adopt ingenious telegrams and signals to communicate with each other; and it may well be believed that the inventive genius of the blacks was, as a general thing, equal to all emergencies, and when driven to extremities they were brave to a fault. ben's wife, in this instance, used the simple device of hanging a certain garment in a particular spot, easily to be seen from ben's covert, and which denoted that the coast was clear and no danger need be apprehended. the garment and the place of hanging it had to be changed every day, yet the signals thus made were true to the purpose, and saved uncle ben from capture. uncle ben was closely chased by the hounds and inhuman men-hunters; on one occasion so closely that he plunged into a stream and followed the current for more than a mile. taking to the water threw the hounds off the scent of the track. before reaching the stream, uncle ben was so closely pursued that one of the men in the gang shot at him, the bullet passing unpleasantly close to him. his wife heard the hounds and the gun-shot. this race for life and liberty was only one of a continued series, and was repeated as often as blood-hounds could find a track to follow. at night ben was very much fatigued and hungry, and his only hope of getting anything to eat was to reach his wife's cabin. how to do this without being observed, was the question. as well as he was able, about midnight he left his retreat and approached the cabin. it was too dark to see a signal if one had been placed for him in the usual manner. after waiting for some time a bright light shot through the cracks in the cabin for an instant, and was repeated at intervals of two or three minutes, three or four times. this was the night-signal of "all right" agreed upon between uncle ben and his wife, and was made by placing the usual grease light under a vessel and raising the vessel for a moment at intervals. ben approached the cabin and gave _his_ signal by rapping on the door three times, and after a short pause three more raps. thus they had to arrange to meet; the husband to obtain food to sustain life, and the wife to administer to him. on this particular night their meeting was unusually impressive. she had heard the death-hounds, the sound of the gun-shot, and she knew the yelps of the hounds and the shot were intended for ben, her husband. with no crime laid to him, he was hunted down as a wild beast. made in god's own image, he is made a slave, a brute, an outcast, and an outlaw because his skin is black. thus they met, ben and his wife. after the usual precautions and mutual congratulations they both kneeled before the throne of god and thanked him for their preservation thus far, and throwing themselves upon his goodness and bounty, asked help in their need and safety in the future. without rising from his knees, ben, even in the anguish of his heart, consoled his wife, remarking, "that the darkest hour is always just before daylight." the blacks of the south have their own peculiar moral maxims, applicable to all situations in life, and the slaves not knowing how to read committed such bible truths as were read to them from time to time. it is true they were generally superstitious in a great degree, as all ignorant persons are; yet their native sense of right led them to adopt the best and most religious principles, dressed in homely "sayings," their circumstances permitted. ben dare not stay very long at a time in his wife's cabin, as a strict watch was constantly kept, that the runaway might be apprehended. bidding his wife farewell, ben hastened back to one of a number of his hiding-places, there to stay through the day, unless routed out by the blood-hounds. he was fortunate, however, in the help of god, for his safety, and the efforts of the hounds and the hounds' followers were futile. finally, wilson gave up chasing ben with blood-hounds, and resolved to try a better and more human method. he bought ben's wife and left her with strucker, with instructions to send her and ben to his plantation if ben was willing for the arrangement. ben soon got word of how matters stood with reference to himself, and concluded if he could live with his wife on the same plantation that it was the very best he could do, so he acceded to the wishes of wilson, and was sent with his wife to wilson. the happiness of this couple was unbounded when they found they could once more live together as god intended they should, and the poor wife in her great gratitude cried, "god is on our side!" ben replied that he had told her on one occasion that god was on their side, and that "the darkest hour was just before day." the usual expression used by the blacks when a runaway returned to his master was that he "had come out of the woods;" that is, he had left his hiding place in the woods and returned to the plantation to work. when i heard that uncle ben had come out of the woods, and was coming to live on our plantation, my joy knew no bounds. on the day when he was expected to arrive i got permission to go out on the road some distance and meet them. early in the morning i caught a horse and started. every wagon i met filled me with hope and fear blended; hope that the wagon contained my uncle and aunt, and fear that it did not. i rode on, on, on, all that day, until my heart was sick with hope deferred. i had received orders before starting that if i did not meet them that day to return home. but i was so far from home, and with straining my eyes to catch a glimpse of my uncle, added to my keen disappointment in not seeing them, made me feel tired, sick, and worn out. so i stopped at a friendly cabin that night, after telling the inmates who i was and what my errand was. early the next morning i was out, and the anxiety to see my uncle was so great i thought i would ride out the road a short distance in the hope of meeting him, notwithstanding my orders to return home. after traveling about an hour i met the wagon containing uncle ben and his wife. the joy of that moment to me is inexpressible. having been deprived of mother and father he was the only relative my sisters and myself could ever have any hopes of seeing again. my heart rejoiced exceedingly. i was, as it were, a new boy entirely, so overcome was i. we all arrived home that same day, and it was a much more pleasant trip than i had taken the day before. on that day it was all anxiety, mixed with hope and fear; to-day it was all joy and thanksgiving, again proving uncle ben's saying that "the darkest hour is always just before day." my sisters were simply wild with joy when we arrived. they ran out the road to meet, us crying, "there comes uncle ben; we have one more friend!" we were all comforted and rejoiced to a very great extent, and we felt indeed that we had "one more friend" with us. we were as happy as slaves could be, and spent all the time we could together--uncle ben, his wife, my sisters, and myself. but wilson harbored a grudge toward uncle ben because he had to buy his wife in order to get him, and had said that if he ever got ben after he ran away he would whip him to death. he treated ben very well for the time being, but about a year after he had got him home he began to put his plans into operation for severely punishing him. he was afraid of ben's prayers. although wilson would not have hesitated a moment to have put any plan into execution he may have conceived, under ordinary circumstances, yet praying ben, while defending himself by appeals to almighty god was stronger than with carnal weapons in his hands. wilson proceeded cautiously and laid snares for ben. uncle ben was one of the best hands on the plantation, and religiously performed the labor alloted him truly and persistently. he obeyed his overseer and wilson in all things pertaining to his manual occupation, and obeyed god to the very best of his ability in this as in everything else. but wilson wanted to punish ben, and was determined to do so. he knew that ben was a faithful slave to labor, and was reliable, yet he wished to break ben's spirit--his manhood, the god part of him. wilson did not seem to know that he was not fighting ben in his scheme of revenge but that he was fighting god in ben, and that although he punished ben to the death he would be conquered himself, and more severely punished than he could ever hope to punish ben. but wilson was mad, infatuated, and satanically determined. precautious preparations were made by wilson to insure success in his revengeful scheme, and after having obtained the aid of several neighbors who were what might be called professional slave-whippers, he deemed his undertaking to punish and conquer ben fully ripe for execution. ben being a field hand was busily employed picking cotton, with a prayerful heart, and a watchful eye on wilson. from wilson's actions ben was sure something was going to occur which would nearly concern him, and having been hunted like a beast he had become suspicious and on his guard all the time. having a feeling of presentiment, he was uneasy, and, as was usual with him, he kneeled down and asked god to protect him from the machinations of his enemies, and give him heart, courage, and strength to overcome the evil intended him. while praying he was startled by the snort of a horse, and on looking around to ascertain the cause of the noise he discovered himself almost surrounded by armed men on horseback. no time to think now; the time for action had arrived. ben knew at once the flight was for life. better, however, was death than to be thus hunted and harassed. bounding through the field he gained a friendly covert, and seemingly by mere chance he eluded his pursuers and the hounds. ben thanked god for his deliverance. wilson with his heartless band were again baffled, and with man-hunting and disappointments in his man-chase he became furious. ben stayed in the woods about four weeks, and during all this time my sisters, ben's wife, and myself were kept in close confinement, to keep us from communicating with ben or rendering him any assistance. thus all of us had to suffer. but we were only slaves. wilson finally took ben's wife to a man in oxford, about twenty-five miles distant, and came back circulating the word among the blacks that he had sold her. wilson had made arrangements at oxford with some professional slave-hunters to catch ben if he ever came to see his wife, for which purpose she had been taken there. after a time ben was informed that he and his wife had been sold by wilson to a man in oxford, and of course believing such to be the fact, he went there to see her, and make arrangements for the future. his wife was told by the man with whom wilson had left her that he had bought both her and ben, and wished her to get ben to "come out of the woods." laboring under this delusion, ben was month. the cabin was surrounded by armed men, when ben was overpowered, chained, and put in jail for safe keeping until wilson should come after him. living in the woods so long and the harsh treatment he was now receiving wore ben down considerably; yet, believing that "the darkest hour is just before day," he relied on god's help in his misery. wilson came for ben in due time, and after chaining him securely around the neck he fastened one end of the chain to the rear of his buggy and literally, a part of the time, dragged him to holly springs, about thirty miles from oxford, where he sold him to a man who had the reputation of being the hardest master in the country. wilson afterwards took ben's wife home. thus they were separated,--ben and his wife,--never to meet again on this earth. wilson told me when he got home that he had sent ben to hell, and that he would send me there too. infatuated man; he supposed he had done with ben for the very worst; he thought he had as much power over the souls of his slaves as he had under "the laws" over their bodies. he found, however, in time, that god was with us, and in his good time he delivered us from our bondage and punished our persecutors as they deserved. chapter ii. not sent to hell by wilson--mrs. wilson protects me, to whom i belong--sent to school with the children--the school-children teach me to read and write--what came of it--mount that mule or i'll shoot you--i mounted the mule--a start for the railroad to work--i dismount and take to the woods--i owe allegiance to god and my country only. the monotonous tedium of routine slave-labor was very often broken by some scene of cruelty to one or another of the poor blacks, either by the master or his overseer; and woe unto the luckless one if the master should happen to be in a good mood to break bones. although slaves were worth money in the south at that time, yet the ungovernable passions of some if not most masters found free vent in cruelty to their own property--that is, their slaves. this was the case with wilson, and no opportunity was missed by him to make a poor black feel the effects of his brutish nature and passions. his wife, on the other hand, made every effort to protect the blacks on the plantation as much as possible. when wilson threatened to send me to hell, as he had tried to send uncle ben, mrs. wilson came forward in my behalf and saved me from her husband's unwarranted wrath by telling him that she wished "charles to accompany her children to school and take such care of them as might be required." it was customary in the south for families who owned slaves to send one or more of them with their children when they attended school as waiters, or personal servants, and as i belonged to mrs. wilson, being an inherited chattel, wilson acceded to her demand, and i was sent along with the children when they went to school. i was not allowed to sit with the white children in school, but i "loafed around handy," ready for a call from either of my young mistresses. the "laws," the enlightened laws of the southern states, prohibited, under heavy penalties, the education of a slave, or even a negro, although free; yet some of us, under very disadvantageous circumstances, learned to read and write. it has always been a kind of habit with me to "be doing something" all the time, and when not actually employed in some active work i would make use of my time for some good purpose; and while "loafing around" that school-house it occurred to me as being strange that the white children should be compelled to sit and study hour after hour, while us little darkies "loafed around" and did nothing. why couldn't we lighten our young masters and mistresses of that labor as well as other kinds of labor? i determined that my young mistresses should not be made slaves of by the school-master, but that i would do that work for them, as they were generally so kind to me. so i proposed the matter to them, and they were tremendously pleased; at least they laughed and chatted a great deal about me getting their lessons for them, which so elated me that i could not avoid turning handsprings and somersaults all the way home that evening, my joy being so great at the idea of doing my mistresses the favor of taking such great labor off their hands as getting their lessons. i did not doubt my ability to perform the work, for i was stout, hearty, and large for my age, and could almost make a full hand in the field. such was my idea at that time of getting lessons. however, the next day my young mistresses told me the school-master would not allow me to study their lessons for them, but that i might take a book and sit outside of the school-house and study there, but that i must be sure and not let any one see me. why not? why should _i_ not study lessons in the school-house for my young mistresses? because it is against the "law" for slaves to learn to read and write. well, that is curious. a person, because he is a slave, must not study lessons; must not learn to read and write because it is against the "law." what law? my mistress used often to read to the children from a book which told about jesus, and mary, and lazarus, and peter, and paul; and how jesus was our savior, and shed his precious blood for the redemption of all who believed him and would obey his commands; and how jesus said, "suffer little children to come unto me, for of such is the kingdom of heaven." did the "law" prohibit me from studying lessons out of a book about jesus, and learning to read about jesus as my mistress did? when my mistress sent my young mistresses to jesus wouldn't she send me along with them just the same as she sent me to school with them? i reckon so. such was my reasoning; and i determined to assist my young mistresses in getting their lessons, law or no law, let the consequences be what they may. i received the book and went out from the school-house a short distance, and secured myself from observation in a shady place. i opened the book--a spelling-book it was. hallo! here's a dog and a cat, and here's a sheep too, and right here in the corner is a yoke--a regular ox-yoke. well, now, this _is_ nice. so i got my first idea of what a book contained by the pictures in a spelling-book. the print in the book meant something, i was sure, and my mind was employed until recess in endeavors to make out what the print and pictures were intended for. the scholars came out at recess, and my mistresses gave me such instructions as they were able, which gave me a start ahead that enabled me to memorize the first six letters of the alphabet by the time school dismissed for noon. i began to be deeply interested in "studying lessons," and was soon, after hard study, complete master of the alphabet. i could repeat it forwards and backwards, and could instantly tell the name of any letter pointed out to me. my mistresses seemed to take great pleasure in teaching me, and i was very anxious to learn. i soon found that i could understand in a great measure the instructions the teacher gave to the different scholars, by which i profited. i sat in the back part of the house, behind the scholars, with my young mistress' old book in my hand, and held it so that nobody could see it, and studied constantly day after day, which soon advanced me beyond some of the white children older than myself in learning. i learned to spell and read; and my appetite for knowledge increasing, my young mistress set copies for me, and by the time the school-term was out i could spell, read, and write. slaves on large plantations in the south were worked in gangs, under the general supervision of the overseer or slave-owner. the gangs were placed under the immediate supervision of a trusty and intelligent slave, whose duty it was to see that each hand performed his or her allotted task, to weigh cotton during the picking season, and to direct the slaves in their labor, and were called field superintendents or bosses. this was my position on the plantation a short time after school was out for the term. for the first few days after my term at school as waiter for my young mistresses, i was ordered into the field to pick cotton, but was shortly placed over the hands as "boss" and cotton-weigher. each picker had a "stint" or daily task to perform; that is, each of them was required to pick so many pounds of cotton, and when in default were unmercifully whipped. i had the cotton of each hand to weigh, three times each day, and had to keep the weights of each hand separate and correctly in my mind and report to wilson every night. i dare not let wilson or any of the slaves know that i knew anything about figures or could read or write, for a knowledge of those rudiments of education was considered criminal in a slave. the slaves were nearly always jealous and envious of a "boss" of their own color, and left no pretext untried to bring a "boss" into disrepute with the master and consequent corporal punishment. and should i make a misstatement of the weight of any one hand's cotton, that hand would know it. therefore at the time i am now writing of i had the weights of about three hundred baskets of cotton to report to wilson every day. this was hard mind-work for me, but i mastered the situation and escaped supersedure and punishment. i held the position of field-superintendent about nine years, and performed my duties faithfully and honestly, to the satisfaction of my master and the hands under me generally. why was i so faithful and dutiful to my slave master? simply because i was doing my duty to god and acting in obedience to the commands of christ; for my book taught me to do good and shun evil--to obey the revealed will of god no matter what position i might be placed in. as a slave i loved to do the will of the master in heaven; as a responsible human being i could do no less. i improved my knowledge, whenever opportunity occurred, and it was but a short time, comparatively, until i found out for myself, by searching the scriptures clandestinely, the great truths that jesus taught. i read, pondered, and began the work of self-regeneration. i read that god required of me to do certain things; that unless i obeyed the commands of jesus i could expect no help from god. i found that i was commanded to "do," and not stand still and wait for others to "do" for me. the way seemed to open before me plainly and unmistakably, and engraved the command to "do" firmly in my heart, in the simple words, "do the will of god." i obeyed the commands of our savior in all the essentials of repentance, baptism, and in everything, and began the real work of my life--of living and being a servant of god and a faithful follower of jesus christ. my field of labor was my own heart, which i endeavored to render pure in the sight of god. but a short time elapsed when my work within myself began to bear fruit in my efforts to redeem my fellow-slaves from sin and make them children of god. i labored with them in a spirit of brotherly love, and urged them, in season and out of season, to come to jesus. my labors were not in vain, for a great many were brought to the altar of prayer through my exertions, and were forgiven. wilson found out that i could read and write. during the time of cotton-picking, the last season i was superintendent, a protracted meeting was held in the neighborhood, and my master and mistress attended regularly. the only time i could go was on sunday, and i looked forward to that day with hope and pleasure. on saturday evening my master stayed to church, and did not expect to return home until sunday evening. my report of weights were on my mind, and i became somewhat uneasy about the result if i should attempt to remember them until the following monday. what to do under the circumstances i did not know; yet i knew that "where there was a will there was a way." i was afraid to set the weights down for fear of detection and punishment. i hesitated and tried to think of some safe way out of the dilemma. i knew if i let the matter rest over sunday i would not remember the weights, for the reason that my mind was so employed and taken up with the religious revival that was then going on in the neighborhood, in which i was very much interested on my own account and on account of my fellow-slaves. i prayed to god to direct me right. the overseer used a slate on which to set down the weights of cotton, which was hanging in his cabin. i took the slate down, made the entries of weights with the names of the pickers, and hung it up again. during the next day (sunday) the overseer came home, and found the slate with the entries on it i had made. he was somewhat surprised. when wilson came home he was duly informed of the fact. i was called, and ordered into _the presence_. i knew it was unlawful for me to know how to write, and i dreaded the consequences of my rash act, yet i unhesitatingly, and with a courage that surprised me, went to the house. "who wrote these names and weights on this slate, charles?" asked mr. wilson. "i did it, sir," i answered. "how and when did you learn to write?" "during the time i attended my young mistresses to school, sir." wilson looked at me long and angrily, and remarked that i had kept that fact secret for a long time, and that as i had learned to read and write he could not help it. "but you must remember, charles," he continued, "that the law is that if any negro shall be found writing, his forefinger shall be cut off at the first joint." my time had now come for my first punishment, i thought. a day or two after i heard wilson, while in conversation with the overseer, say, "it will not do to let charles stay with the rest of the negroes, or he will learn them all to read and write, and then we might as well set them free." what was to be done with me for my unpardonable crime? all kinds of surmises and speculations entered my mind. what was to be my fate? belonging to mrs. wilson--her property--i was placed in charge of her son james, who employed me at teaming, that is, hauling cotton, lumber, etc. in this occupation i became pretty well acquainted with the surrounding country and the people, and was very well satisfied with matters generally as they then stood. but i was soon to learn that my young master was only anxious to carry out the plans of his father, and was determined to punish, or, as they pleased to term it, "break me," merely because i was related to ben--because i was able to read and write as well if not better than james wilson himself. i was told one day by james that he had hired me to a man in pontotoc to work in a livery-stable, and that i must come to his plantation without delay. when i arrived i was informed that instead of going to pontotoc i should go to the railroad then building through mississippi, and work for mr. leadbitter. i expostulated with my master, and urged him, with all the pleas and arguments at my command, to allow me to remain on the plantation or go to pontotoc, but to no avail. he whipped out his six-shooter, raving and swearing, and bade me mount one of two mules instanter or he would shoot me on the spot. i mounted the mule. my reasons for not wanting to go to the railroad to work were good. there was plenty to do on the plantation, and there was no good cause for sending me away. i feared rough usage at the railroad, and rougher associations. i had by this time become the religious teacher of all the well-disposed slaves in the neighborhood, and i was so much interested in my labors that i doomed my great master's work of too much importance to be driven away from it without a struggle. i was no coward, and was always ready to stand out to the end against all opposition, when my duty as a humble follower of jesus was in question. therefore my reluctance to be driven from my place of usefulness. however, i got on the mule and started, in company with a colored man who was going with me to bring the mules back. after traveling four or five miles, and when at a convenient place, i dismounted from the mules and told my companion i was going no farther with him, and that if wilson wanted any one to go to the railroad to work he might go himself; and i "took to the woods." this was the first time i ever attempted to escape and gain my freedom. whether i was right or wrong i shall not say, only i ask you to put yourself in my place as i was then situated, and draw your own conclusions. it is true i had formed dear and near associations, and the old neighborhood had been the scene of my trials and triumphs. my master had been uniformly kind, as much so at least as his disposition would allow, yet i felt, although my skin was black, i was entitled to and deserved freedom to worship god according to the dictates of my own conscience, and to teach others the way to everlasting life. i felt that i was a man made after god's own image, and that no one had any right to a property in me as a mere chattel, all human laws to the contrary notwithstanding. i did not deem that i was a criminal, and that i was escaping from penal servitude; but that i was one of god's children, escaping from a worse than egyptian bondage. i rightfully owed allegiance to god and my country only. so i run away. chapter iii. caught, tried, and taken back home to james wilson--my mistress saves me from being whipped--i go to the railroad and work one month precisely--go back home--wilson surprised--left the railroad at 3 o'clock a.m.--did not want to disturb leadbitter's rest--sent to memphis with a load of cotton--afraid of the slave-pens and slave-auction--start for home--not sold--pray, sing, and shout--get home and ordered to hire myself out. the peculiar feelings one has who is a "runaway" are indescribable. i felt every bit an outcast, and was frightened by the least noise or the sight of any person, and the yelp of a hound was terror to me. i skulked and hid in the woods all day until night, when i concluded to go to town, get something to eat, and make my arrangements for the future. when the "hoy," who was sent by wilson with me, returned and repeated to him my words, vengeance was sworn against me, and the hounds were turned loose for immediate chase. i went to the town of pontotoc, and while there refreshing myself in a cabin i heard hounds whining. that was sufficient to inform me that i was trapped. what to do i did not know, but went to the door with the intention of making my escape, if possible, when i was met by james wilson and five other persons fully armed. resistance was useless, the hounds would have caught me before i could have run a hundred yards, even if i could have escaped the bullets. i surrendered, and was securely tied by james wilson and his gang and taken back to the plantation. dire threats were made against me, but my mistress, james' mother, saved me again. she informed her son that "charles belonged to her; that charles' mother had placed him, under the care of god, in her custody, and that she did not intend to have him beaten." james insisted on "breaking" me, as he termed it, and finally prevailed on his mother, with promises, that if she would let him deal with me he would "break" me without whipping me. she consented. james came to the cabin where i was tied and chained, and told me that he did not desire to whip me, but that if i did not go to the railroad to work every slave on the plantation would become demoralized, and they would all do as they pleased. his words and manner were very kind and conciliatory, yet i took them for what they were worth, and did not believe him; for he would have whipped me severely if he had dared do so. his reasoning regarding the poor, ignorant slaves on the plantation, however, was to the point. in their ignorance they would suppose that if i could do as i pleased and not be punished, they could do the same; and they would, in all probability, create an insurrection which would result in their own destruction. for their sakes i acceded to james' wishes. he told me that if i would go to the railroad and work for leadbitter one month, that i might after that time hire myself out to whom i pleased and for as long a time as i pleased. i was given a letter to leadbitter, and immediately started on foot for the railroad. when i arrived there i handed the letter to mr. leadbitter, who asked me how long i had come to stay with him. i told him one month. he broke the letter open, and after reading it informed me that james wilson stated in the letter that i was to stay as long as he wanted me. this was a piece of intelligence that learned me that james wilson would lie, and from that time forward i had no confidence in his truthfulness. i did not know what was best to do, but finally made up my mind to fulfill and make good my promise, and trust to the future to compel james wilson to perform his. i thought this the right course. i did not deem that i would be justified in breaking my promise because wilson was unreliable and broke his. i concluded that if leadbitter kept me longer than one month he would have to be smarter than i gave him credit for being. i asked leadbitter how many days there were in that month. i went to work, and kept account of the days. i worked carefully. the time passed slowly and wearily. my associations were of the worst character possible, and my co-laborers were of that lowest class of southern blacks whose ignorance and waywardness render them most of the time more than brutal. i made every effort to do good among them, and endeavored to preach to them on several occasions, but was interrupted and deterred by the whites, who forbade my preaching. i talked to the blacks, however, whenever opportunity occurred, and i hope that my labors for jesus were not in vain. the last day of my month came and passed. it was friday. on saturday morning, about three o'clock, i started for home, and with rapid walking i reached my destination about two hours after sunrise. when i reached the plantation i "cut across lots," and passed through the field where wilson was at work with the hands. i approached, unobserved by him, and spoke to him. he looked at me with astonishment, and in surprise asked, "what are you doing here?" "you told me to stay one month; i done so," i answered. "did mr. leadbitter know when you left?" "i do not know, sir," i replied. "i left at three o'clock this morning, and did not think it worth while to disturb mr. leadbitter's rest." "three o'clock!" exclaimed wilson. "yes, sir," i quietly answered. "you ran away, did you?" "no, sir, i did not run away. i stayed as long as you required me to stay, when, in obedience to your expressed promises, i came home." james wilson made some remark i could not understand, but finally said that as i had come home he had some work for me to do before i could hire myself out. i felt somewhat easy in my mind, and waited to be set to work. but when he afterwards told me he wanted me to take a load of cotton to memphis, my heart misgave me, i felt sure, in my mind, that i was to be sold from the slave-pens at memphis. the grand trial time had now come for me, and the teachings of my mother and uncle ben and uncle jack before and at our final separation came to me in full force. they taught me, before i could read for myself, that in trouble i should rely implicitly on the help of my savior, and that i should pray without ceasing. to god i immediately turned for guidance and help, and asked that my every step might be directed by him, and that he should protect me from my enemies and persecutors. i felt that i was being persecuted for jesus' sake, for i was promised, time and again, that if i would quit preaching and talking to the slaves on religious subjects, i should be advanced and my life made easy and comfortable. i refused the offers, because my master's work was of more importance than my ease. i was impressed, deeply, with the great responsibilities resting upon me, and was determined to preach and teach while i had strength and opportunity to do so. i may have been mistaken with regard to the cause of my persecution by the wilsons, but i think not. i do not really believe that any one is persecuted for christ's sake in this day and age of the world, in a christian country, except in the south before the rebellion. i have heard men, and, i am almost ashamed to say, preachers, proclaim that they were persecuted because of their adherence to the cause of christ, when they were not persecuted at all on any account, except probably on account of some wrong act of their own. paul and the apostles were persecuted, and early christians were persecuted, but who ever heard of a citizen of the united states being persecuted because he was a follower of jesus! but slaves in the south were persecuted and punished severely for preaching the gospel of christ, not on that very account probably, but because it would teach the slaves obedience to a higher power than the inhuman laws of the southern states as they then existed. paul was persecuted for preaching the redemption of mankind through the blood of the savior, by pagans and gentiles. i was persecuted for the same reasons by the slave-owners of the south, and for endeavoring to lead the benighted blacks to jesus. there seems to be some likeness in the positions of paul and myself. i felt that was the case, at any rate. my mind was distressed with the fear that i was being sent to memphis only to be sold to the highest bidder. after addressing the throne of god for help and deliverance i felt relieved, and determined that, come what would, i would use my best talents and exertions for my heavenly master wherever i might be. relieved, i set about making preparations for my trip to memphis, with a prayerful heart. two of us were going in company, each with a load of cotton. we started on monday morning, and traveled along without unusual trouble or delay for three days over hilly and rough roads, when we camped for the night within a mile of holly springs, in mississippi, and about fifty-five miles from home. it will be remembered that uncle ben was sold by wilson to a man who lived in and near holly springs. i was anxious to see uncle ben, if possible, and began making inquiries regarding his whereabouts. a colored man came along the road, driving a team, of whom i inquired. after a little time he said a preacher named ben harris lived in a house close by, at the same time pointing to it. upon further inquiries i learned that ben had taken another wife. this may seem rather criminal, and may appear to be a clear case of bigamy against uncle ben; but when it is remembered that masters compelled their slaves to live together as man and wife, without ceremony, for the purpose only of breeding children, and that ben had no say in the matter, he will be held blameless. the laws of the southern states did not recognize the legal relations of man and wife between slaves, therefore they could not commit the crime of bigamy. if ben was morally guilty, he was forced into his guilt by law and general custom. i had not seen ben for about ten years, and was so overjoyed at the prospect of seeing him that i could scarcely wait until night, for i was informed that he would not be at his cabin until night. after attending to my affairs about town i waited until sundown, when i went to the house indicated by my informant. not being certain that the person who lived in the cabin was my uncle, i necessarily had to make inquiries. a colored woman met me at the door, and answered such questions as i asked, from which i was satisfied that ben lived here. i informed the woman who i was and that ben was my uncle, and that i had called, in passing on my way to memphis, to see him. she cordially invited me to enter the cabin, and told me that ben was out feeding the horses and would shortly be in. i had to wait but a little while when ben came in. he supposed me to be some passing stranger, and did not recognize me. after some desultory conversation i told him who i was and how i came to be there. our meeting, after mutual recognition, was affectionate and cordial. we talked over old times and related our experience since we parted at the wilson plantation. we kneeled at the family altar, and each poured out his soul's thanksgiving to god for his goodness to us, having, before i left, a season of soul-reviving prayer. thus we knelt, uncle ben, his wife, and i, poor slaves in the chains of bondage, really and earnestly thanking god for the many blessings we received. strange, was it not? when men and women rolling in wealth and all the luxuries and happiness that wealth could purchase, did not even deign to notice the source from whence all their blessings flowed. they had life and liberty, and were unrestrained in the pursuit of happiness, yet not once did they thank the great giver of all their good. then what had we, poor wretches, to thank god for? for everything we enjoyed,--for life, for the blessed plan of salvation, for our senses of seeing, hearing, and feeling, for our hearts with which to love him, for our humanity, for the great gifts of sunshine, rain, regulated seasons, the moon, the stars, the earth, the trees, the brooks, the rivers,--everything truly enjoyable we thanked god for. we thanked him for health and strength to do his work. then we had a great deal to thank almighty god for, although slaves. how many of you ever think to thank god for sunshine or for reason? let me illustrate. a gentleman was passing along the highway, when he was met by a poor maniac, who accosted him, saying, "what do you thank god for?" the gentleman being surprised by the abrupt question did not reply immediately, when the maniac continued, "then thank god for your reason; mine is gone; i'm mad--a maniac." this was something the gentleman had never thought of before, and it opened to his mind an entirely new source of thankfulness. we are apt to forget that we are not slaves, not blind, deaf, or dumb, and not insane; yet should we lose any one of our five senses we would then know how to be thankful for and appreciate that sense should we regain it. then thank god for everything, your very existence included. suppose the sun would stop in his course and not shine on the earth but for one day. what consternation and grief there would be throughout the world! then suppose that after twenty-four hours the sun should burst upon us in all his refulgence and glorious magnificence. what a shout of joy would greet his appearance, and glad hearts would pour out thanks upon thanks to the great giver for the needful sunshine. then let us be thankful for all the great blessings bestowed upon us by our heavenly father, and serve him with all our hearts, in whatever position in life we may be placed. uncle ben and i did _then_, and we do _yet_. after a prolonged conversation and a good and refreshing season of prayer i took my departure for my camp, never expecting to meet my relative again, and never have. we started next morning on our way to memphis, and traveled into memphis, after three days, on a very fine road for the south, known as the state-line road. we drove to the cotton-yard, unloaded, and received the receipts for the cotton, and put up for the night at a wagon-yard. i spent this night in prayer and supplication that god would save me from the slave-pen and the auctioneer's block; and my prayers were responded to in my protection. the next morning we started for home by what was known as the pigeon-roost route, in order to save toll and other expenses. the weight on my mind was removed, and i felt happy and thankful. i was not sold from the shambles. i prayed, i sung, and i shouted by turns. we arrived at home, and i waited patiently for my next order. my young master soon informed me, however, that i might hire myself out, if i could find and one that would hire me. good! god was on my side. with a light heart and truly happy i set about my preparations to hire myself out; and the very first thing i did was to go to my cabin and thank god for his goodness, and ask for his protection and guidance. always praying? yes, i was always at it. my heart was big with love to god. chapter iv. start out on my travels to hunt a new master--find mr. dansley--hire to him--thirty dollars per month for my master and five dollars for myself--wilson astonished--appointed superintendent of dansley's farm--rules and regulations--peace and tranquillity--my moral labors successful--prayer and social meetings--meetings in the woods--quarrel and fight like very brothers--time comes to be moved to another field of labor. it was customary in the slave states to allow slaves to hire themselves for their masters to such as the slaves themselves desired to work for. sometimes this arrangement was made to save the master trouble. in my case i was instructed to find a place to work at thirty dollars per month and board, and then to return and report to wilson, who would then give the necessary permission in writing, which would stand as a contract between him and my employer. my first object was to find a christian man to hire to who would allow me to pray and preach on all proper occasions, and who would rather assist me than hinder me in my efforts to make christians of the blacks. i cared nothing for the manual labor i had to do, if i could only be placed in a position to do my great master's work. his work was my life-labor. on this particular account i was very careful who i applied to. in a day or two i applied to mr. dansley, whose plantation was about eighteen miles from wilson's, and who had been recommended to me as being the kind of man i was hunting for. mr. dansley questioned me closely, and examined me as to my reasons for wanting to hire out, and why my master wished me to hire out when there was plenty of work on his own place for me to do. i confessed frankly that i could read and write, and knew something about figures, and was desirous to serve god and do his work by preaching, and in every other way in my power; that my master was afraid that i would demoralize his other slaves by learning them to read and write and by preaching to them, and in order that i might not do that he wanted me off the plantation; that he could not sell me because i was the property of his wife, and that she would not consent to have me sold out of the family. "if those are faults, as considered by mr. wilson, i am very well satisfied that you will perform your part of the contract notwithstanding; yet what mr. wilson is pleased to consider faults in you i deem good points in your character and disposition, therefore i will hire you, hoping that your duty to god will include your duty to me under the contract of hire." i told him that was my understanding of my duty to god; that it comprised, in my condition of servitude, my duty to my slave-master. i informed mr. dansley that my master, wilson, wanted thirty dollars per month for my services, and that i wanted five dollars per month for myself, making in all thirty-five dollars per month. he was satisfied to pay that amount, and gave me a letter to carry to wilson stating that he would hire me at thirty dollars per month, yet he agreed with me that he would pay me, besides, five dollars per month. when wilson gave me instructions to hire myself out at not less than thirty dollars per month, he hoped i would fail, from the fact that wages for field-hands were only twenty-five dollars per month; and when i went back with mr. dansley's letter so soon, he was somewhat surprised. he would have opened his eyes with wonder if he had known that dansley was to pay me five dollars per month extra. he gave me a written permission to work for mr. dansley as long as dansley should want me. i immediately went to dansley's, and stayed with him nine months--nine months of contented time. i found my new master every way worthy of any confidence i might repose in him. in moderate circumstances, he used prudence and diligence in his business transactions and farm operations. he was one of those kind of men some of which may be found in almost every community--an unassuming, industrious, christian gentleman. for his farm-force he hired men, both white and black; and when his work pushed him he would require his cook and house-maid, the only slaves he owned, to assist in the fields. at the time of my commencing to work for him he had white men hired who were worse, if any thing, in their habits of shiftless laziness than the lazy blacks. these whites, whom the negroes usually termed "white trash," were, as a general thing, the most vicious, brutal, thieving, shiftless, and lazy human beings imaginable. they were ignorant in the greatest degree, and would not work so long as they could obtain food to sustain life in any other way. they deemed it an honor to be noticed civilly by a respectable negro, and would fawn and truckle to the behests of any one who had the physical courage to command them. such people can be found in no place except the south. they are a result of the system of slavery and slave-laws, and slave-owners are responsible for their condition. such were the kind of men i had to work with. these men would quarrel and wrangle among themselves, and would consume time and neglect their work. when the house-servants were at work in the field, they would insult and misuse them in every conceivable manner, and it was with great difficulty that mr. dansley could get his work done properly and in season. knowing i had been a farm-superintendent on wilson's plantation for a number of years, mr. dansley immediately appointed me to the same position on his farm, which accounts for his readiness and willingness to pay me high wages. this was a new kind of position for me, and it required considerable thought and management for me to get matters properly arranged in my mind. "bossing" white hands and working with them, so as to make their labors profitable for my employer, was no easy task. the farm-work was carried on somewhat similar to the way in which large farms are worked in the northern states, and it required great prudence and watchful care to avoid waste and save all the crops. i arranged my rules of conduct, hours of labor, etc., for the hands, and submitted them to mr. dansley for his approval. mr. dansley left the matter entirely with me; and, after trial, i found my rules were not sufficiently stringent, and that if i expected to successfully "carry on" that farm i would have to make rules with penalties attached, the men i had to deal with caring little or nothing for mild, persuasive laws. i therefore drew up the following rules, and presented them to mr. dansley, and requested him to make them stipulations in the contracts of hire with his men. he approved them, and acceded to my request. 1. quarreling and using vulgar and profane language is strictly forbidden on the farm, and any hand or hands violating this rule shall be discharged or corrected, in the discretion of the superintendent. 2. obedience to the just orders of the superintendent is essential to the profitable conduct of the farm; therefore, disobedience to the orders of the superintendent shall be followed by the discharge of the hand or hands so offending, or his or their correction, in the discretion of the superintendent. 3. each and every hand hereby binds himself to obey the just orders of the superintendent and the rules herein established, and upon the discharge of any hand or hands, by the superintendent, one month's wages shall be forfeited. these rules were signed by the hands, that is, they "made their mark;" but i signed my name, being the only negro hand on the place and the only one who could write. peace and tranquillity reigned on that farm thereafter, and better crops were not raised in the county. my whole study and aim was to do right--to be just to my hands and do my duty to my employer. i relied on god's help, and prayerfully asked his guidance in every and all difficulties and emergencies, and my success is attributable to that help which is always given when properly asked for. the men i had to deal with were more to be pitied than blamed. they were entirely ignorant of any but the most crude principles of right, and were taught from their childhood only such rude notions as prevailed among the ignorant. when i talked to them of jesus they seemed astonished. they did not even know that punishment would meet them hereafter for their sins committed in this life, and were puzzled and perplexed with the plan of salvation until after i had repeatedly explained it to them; in fact, i taught them the history of man, from adam down to the coming of our savior, and taught them the religion of jesus. better-behaved men or better hands were not to be found in the neighborhood after they learned the way to jesus, and many happy times we did have on that farm at our prayer--meetings and social gatherings. all of us would meet at some convenient place on the farm, every sabbath-day, and would spend the time profitably, in exhortation and prayer. the master and mistress were always there, and worked with a will in the cause of christ, and i would exhort and preach to the best of my ability. sometimes mr. dansley would read a chapter from the bible and comment thereon, and sometimes his wife would read and comment. all of us prayed, and some of the white hands became, in a short time, earnest public prayers. they had found the fount of true happiness, and would drink largely therefrom on all occasions. our regular sunday meetings soon became known in the neighborhood, and the neighbors and their slaves would come and worship with us, until our congregations became so large that mr. dansley allowed me to take the hands and clear away a nice place in the woods, and make seats and a stand, where we held our meetings regularly thereafter every sunday, in the forenoon, afternoon, and at night; besides, we held a social prayer-meeting every wednesday evening. these meetings were productive of great good to the community and to individuals. in this way i brought men and women to god even while in a condition of slavery, and required to labor six days in the week in the grain and cotton fields. if i, a slave, could accomplish this much, how much should the favored preachers of the country accomplish? this is a hard question to answer, however, and i shall not insist on its consideration, as every preacher can not be a lorenzo dow, a john smith, or a james findley. among the field-hands under me were two brothers, white men, who, when i first took charge of the farm were maliciously wicked toward each other, and were almost constantly quarreling just like brothers(!). before three months had elapsed, under my kind of treatment, they were praying, acting christians, and remained so as long as i knew them. from this time down to the present writing i have been a zealous worker in the lord's vineyard, and shall remain in the harness as long as god wills. regarding doctrinal points of theology i knew nothing, and my whole stock of theological works could have been carried in a vest pocket, in the shape of one or two tracts which fell in my way, and which i read, studied, and preserved. i had a bible, and that alone served me as the guide in my ministry, and furnished me with all the arguments necessary to the conversion of sinners and their redemption. our congregation at mr. dansley's was not organized into a church, and i did not attempt to receive members into the church of christ. i doubted my authority to do so, and any efforts on my part in that direction would have been immediately stopped by the preachers and members of the white churches. but this did not deter me from preaching and exhorting. i believed firmly that god required of me the labor i performed, and i was so much interested and taken up in my work that i did not stop to consider what the consequences would be to myself. my only consideration was, "where can i find an opportunity to do good and save souls." i asked no pay for my services as a preacher, and never received any; hence i usually found congregations awaiting me at my appointments made up of all classes, white and black, and from all churches organized in the community. my discourses were sometimes off-hand and sometimes studied. it is true my studied discourses were, in the main, original, and taken wholly from the bible, yet they were none the less effective, because they were earnest and honest. my language was that of the southern blacks and uneducated whites at the beginning of my labors as an exhorter, but after hard study and training i improved myself greatly in this respect, and gained the reputation of being as correct in my pronunciation of english words as the majority of the white preachers. i am not yet entirely free from dialectic pronunciation, and never expect to be; but i find that this very defect, if so it may be called, adds force to my sermons, and gives them a distinctness not otherwise attainable. therefore i make use of my very faults to do good. i had hoped to stay with mr. dansley as long as he could find it profitable to hire me; and so far i had been of great use to him. i had placed his whole farm in a good state of repair, and had matured and saved his crops in such a manner that his profits were much larger than they ever were before in any one season. i had the goodwill and confidence of the hands, both white and black, who worked under me, and was an instrument in the hands of god in spreading the religion of jesus christ in the neighborhood; consequently i was happy and contented, with plenty of all kinds of work to do. but i had accomplished my mission at this place, and it pleased god to remove me to another field of labor, where the harvest was ripe and ready for the reaper. i never complained; on the contrary, i rejoiced that god was not done with me, and had plenty for me to do. when i had thoroughly worked one field of labor, i deemed my immediate services no longer required, and was glad when removed where more work was to be done in god's moral vineyard. of course i formed intimate associations in every locality in which i was placed, and was prone to leave them; but i was content to do the will of god in every particular, whether that will was expressed through the slave-laws and james wilson or otherwise. i was a slave, and was compelled to labor for the profit of my owner, which i performed diligently and faithfully; i was a child of god, and owed him duty and obedience, which i performed earnestly and constantly. from my slave-owners i expected and received no reward or remuneration; from god i received no pay as i labored, but my great reward is yet to come. i have been a depositor in god's bank, from which i expect to draw largely at the final settlement. chapter v. james wilson comes along--wants me to go with him to saulsbury, tennessee, to help build a house for a grocery-store--takes me along with him--wilson taken sick--i take care of him--he gets well--i make another attempt to escape from slavery--what came of it. one day james wilson came to mr. dansley's, and said he had come for me to go with him to saulsbury, tennessee, where he was going to start a grocery, and that he wished my assistance in erecting a building therefor. he informed me, at the same time, that as soon as the building was finished, i might return to mr. dansley and stay with him as long as he wanted me. he had another colored man with him, and desired to go right away. all i had to do was to obey, so without further ado i bade farewell to the people of the plantation, and went with wilson. the parting made me feel sad, for a time. the word grocery, as applied in the south, has a far different meaning than that intended in the north. a grocery in the south is a place where whisky and other intoxicating beverages are sold, and, as a general thing, at these places the planters and others congregate to drink, carouse, gamble, quarrel, and fight. this was the kind of grocery james wilson was going to start in saulsbury, and the thought of aiding even under protest and unwillingly in the establishment of one of these hells caused me much anxiety. i made every effort to get relieved from this odious work, but without avail. we immediately began the erection of the grocery-building, on our arrival at saulsbury, and made good progress for a while. the boards we used in the building had to be sawed by us two slaves with a whipsaw. we dug a deep trench in the ground, and laid the log to be sawed into boards lengthwise over the trench, and one of us would stand in the trench under the log and the other on top of the log. in this way we worked, day after day, until we had a sufficient number of boards to accommodate our wants. the almighty, it seemed to me, interfered with our work. james wilson was taken down very sick in the midst of our efforts to create this additional devil's den, and was totally unable to leave his bed. i had to take care of him, and the work on the grocery-house was necessarily stopped. as soon as he was able to be moved i took him to the sulphur springs, not many miles away, and nursed him carefully and attentively until he was able to be about again. this sickness of wilson i deemed a warning to him, and endeavored to impress as much on his mind; but i was cursed and reviled for my pains. i availed myself of every opportunity to dissuade him from his evil purpose, but failed. he was determined to start a grocery, and start a grocery he would and did. i cleared my skirts and conscience in the business, however, as far as i could under the circumstances; yet a "still small voice" seemed to whisper to me that i was doing very wicked and sinful acts in helping to further the grocery iniquity. i was, in a manner, forced to work, yet i was uneasy and troubled in my mind. others may think i was blameless; that i was a slave and not accountable for acts my master commanded me to do. this seemed very specious reasoning, but still i felt guilty, and sent fervent and prayerful petitions to the throne of grace for forgiveness and fortitude to withstand temptation, which enable me to do the will of my great master regardless of the consequences that might ensue to me from the effects of wilson's wrath or resentment. we finished the building in about two months from the time we first went to salisbury, and prepared to return home. it was here that i first saw a complete railroad and a locomotive with a train of cars. my fellow-slave, on hearing the whistle of the locomotive for the first time, was very much frightened, and jumped over the log he was hewing, with the exclamation, "good god! what is that?" and started to run. i stopped him, and, explaining to him what the loud, shrill shriek meant, quieted his fears. we both went to the depot and examined the locomotive and cars with great curiosity and interest. james wilson, being still weak with his late sickness, was compelled to ride in the wagon he had brought from home, and i rode his saddle-horse. on the way, wilson informed me that i was to attend the grocery at salisbury, and that he expected me to make money out of the concern. my very soul revolted at the bare idea of being a whisky-vender, and my immediate determination was not to be one. my mind was made up to "take to the woods" on the first favorable opportunity. i said nothing, however, but kept my own counsel. we traveled slowly, by reason of the master's sickness; and when we stopped for the night i found that the saddle i had been riding had hurt the horse's back. wilson was furious, and swore he would take as much hide from my back when we got home as the saddle had taken from the horse's back. the next day after leaving salisbury we arrived at mr. dansley's. in conversation, i heard wilson tell mr. dansley that he intended to take me home with him. i claimed the fulfillment of his promise from wilson, and asked him if he was not going to let me work for mr. dansley, according to agreement. this so enraged wilson that he pulled out his six-shooter, and exclaimed: "mount that horse, you ---black rascal!" i did so. fearful that the horse's back would become incurably sore if i rode him with his back in the condition it was, i suggested that the horse had better be led. wilson therefore ordered me into the wagon to drive the team, and required havely, my fellow-slave, to walk,--intending we should take turns. after awhile havely exchanged places with me, and while walking along in rear of the wagon it occurred to me that this would be as favorable an opportunity as i would soon again get for making my escape from wilson and slavery. i "took to the woods" without attracting the attention of either wilson or havely, and made good my escape, for the time at least. i made my way back to mr. dansley's and told him my reasons for endeavoring to effect my escape from slavery, and that the immediate cause of my present attempt was to keep myself clear of the accursed sin of whisky-selling. my motives were applauded, but my judgment was condemned. how could i ever expect to escape to a country where i could be a free man? even should i escape to the northern states the fugitive slave law, which was then in full force, would remand me back to slavery, and it was a long, tedious, and perilous journey to canada. i was going to make the attempt at any rate. it was agreed between us that mr. dansley should buy me of wilson if he could, and that i should stay and work for him at the rate of thirty-five dollars per month until i had re-imbursed mr. dansley, when i should have my freedom papers. it would have required about four years for me to pay for myself at those rates, as wilson "priced" me at sixteen hundred dollars. the negotiations for my purchase by mr. dansley failed, and i was left to my exertions to get to canada the best way i could. i was secreted during this time about dansley's farm, and was aroused to a sense of my condition one day by reading a hand-bill which was posted on a tree on the road close to mr. dansley's house, of which the following is a copy: "one hundred dollars reward!" "charles, a slave, has disappeared from the plantation of the undersigned, in pontotoc county. the above reward will be given for his apprehension and return to me alive. "james wilson." this settled the matter. the reward was soon known over the whole country, and every slave-hunter was on the chase to gain the reward. i "laid close" and waited to escape from that part of the country, so that i might not compromise mr. dansley. he was already under surveillance by slave-owners, and was in danger of being driven from the country; in fact, threats of lynching had been made against him. the last day i was there i lay hid in some cotton-pens, close to the house, when two men came on the hunt of me. they had their blood-hounds with them, and demanded permission of dansley to search his house. the permission was granted, when the men began the search. i could see and hear all that was going on, and trembled for my safety. i put myself on the mercy of the almighty and resigned myself entirely into his hands. the search was made all over the premises, including the cotton-pens in which i was hid; but god was on my side, and i was saved from their clutches. i earnestly thanked god for my deliverance on this occasion. as soon as dark came i emerged from my hiding-place, and, after being supplied with what provisions i could conveniently carry, i bid good-by to christian dansley and his family, and started on my perilous journey to the free states and canada. my progress was necessarily slow and wearisome, being compelled to travel altogether at night. the first point i designed making on my journey was memphis, where i hoped to find means of escape to illinois. i had plenty of time for meditation and prayer, and my thoughts were naturally concentrated on my deplorable condition all the time. my past life came up in review before me, and while sorrowfully wandering through the woods i would compare myself to persecuted christians in the days of the apostles and the early evaneglists. the blessed savior was persecuted in his very infancy and had to be hid by his parents. they had to flee for life; i was fleeing for liberty. what had i to complain of? jesus was with me and would protect me. god had delivered him from the very tomb of death; why need i fear? with these reflections in my mind i would feel revived and refreshed with the consolation that while there was life in me there was hope for me. the words of the poet came to my memory, wherein he says: "neither will he upbraid you, though often your request; he'll give you grace to conquer, and take you home to rest." the consolation and help i received from my meditations sustained me through all my trials and hardships, and i plodded my weary way along with god in my heart and bright hopes for the future. i knew if i drew nigh unto god he would draw nigh unto me; and that if i would let the word of christ dwell in me i would be rich in all wisdom. yet i was aware i should suffer persecution if i lived godly in jesus christ; therefore i determined to continue in the things which i had learned. on sunday night i arrived at holly springs. uncle ben lived there, and i was anxious to see him and obtain through his assistance, if possible, rest and food. i had proceeded only a little way toward his house when i met a colored man and began conversation with him. i learned that the reward wilson had offered for me had arrived at holly springs before me, and that persons were on the lookout for me. the colored man seemed to have a suspicion that i was a runaway, and was disposed to aid me all in his power. to keep out of the way of slave-hunters was my object, and i knew that the contemplated visit to uncle ben was fraught with too much danger to be further thought of. fearful that the negro would betray me, yet feeling somewhat safe for the present, i sat down to think and rest myself. i knew that if i was caught wilson would flay me, as he had threatened to do, for making his saddle-horse's back sore, but that if i could once get through to memphis i would be enabled, through the assistance of friends, to make my way north. yet i wanted to see uncle ben again, and tried to hit upon some plan to accomplish that object; but i failed, and started on the road again. after traveling a short time i came to a house by the road-side. the kitchen stood about twenty yards from the main building, and had a window in the back part of it. i was very hungry, and debated in my mind as to the manner in which i should proceed to obtain food. to ask for it was too risky, and i was fearful that if i was seen by any of the persons about the house i would be apprehended and put in the nearest jail as a runaway. looking in at the window i saw a colored woman; and on a table a meal was prepared, which, it seemed, was being held in readiness for the arrival of some one. i waited patiently, hoping the colored woman would leave the kitchen for some purpose; but she sat quietly waiting. after awhile the master and mistress arrived, it seems, from a visit. shortly the mistress of the house came in and ordered the supper. fortunately for me the supper was to be carried into the "big house," and the cook, taking her hands full of things, left the kitchen and went into the house. i immediately sprung through the window, promiscuously emptied the meat and bread into my sack, and left the kitchen the same way before the return of the cook, just in time to escape detection. i crouched in the shade of the cabin fearing to move, when i heard the cook exclaim: "good gracious! some one hab tuk and turned in an' tuk all de bread an' meat." her cries brought the household to the kitchen, and during the racket i made my escape to the road and a more peaceful neighborhood. i walked briskly for a couple of miles, when i stopped and satisfied my ravenous hunger. this was my first theft of something to eat. before this i had been fortunate enough to obtain supplies of food from friendly slaves, but for the twenty-four hours previous to my raid on the kitchen i had eaten nothing. i make no excuse for this immoral act, and ask no one to say i did right. i only did what perhaps any one else, under the same circumstances, would have done. i was too weak from hunger and other causes to withstand the temptation of obtaining the food as i did. as soon as my appetite was satisfied, however, my sin rose up before me in all its enormity; i felt distressed; and it came vividly in my mind, "in that christ hath suffered, being tempted, he is able to succor them that are tempted." oh, what had i done! i had lost god's help in this my hour of trial. i prayed for forgiveness, and asked god to direct and protect me. yet i felt uneasy and depressed,--not that my faith in jesus was any the less, but that my sin would bring its own punishment. "there is many a pang to pursue me; they may crush, but they shall not contemn- they may torture, but shall not subdue me,- 'tis of god i think--not of them." about daylight i reached a forest in which i could conceal myself during the day. i slept soundly, being undisturbed, until dark, when i proceeded onward. while traveling _that night_ i was compelled to pass a large plantation. i was afraid some white person would see me, therefore i avoided every one,--not being able to distinguish, in the dark, a white from a black person. however, about daylight i met a colored boy, who procured some food for me and directed me to a cotton-pen close by, where i could hide and sleep during the day. when night came--it was thursday night--i crawled out of the pen and started for another night's walk. i made very good time that night, and walked to within nine miles of memphis. i was afraid to go on into memphis in the day-time, consequently i slept in the woods that day without anything to eat, my supply of food being exhausted. i was very much exhausted, and suffered greatly from hunger. when night came i started again. after proceeding on my way about two miles i came to the village of mt. pleasant, where i thought to obtain something to eat. i had passed nearly through the village without seeing any one; but finally i saw a man who i mistook for a colored man. i accosted him, when, to my chagrin and disappointment, he was a white man. i felt that i had already betrayed myself; and through my fright and want of steadiness i was again in bonds. the man asked me numerous and various questions, as to where i came from, where i was going, who i belonged to, etc. i again sinned, and paid the penalty. i lied to the man. i told him i belonged to a man by the name of potts, and that i was going to his plantation. quite a number of persons soon gathered around me, and by repeated questions entrapped me. inquiries were made as to the health of mr. potts' family, and of mr. potts in particular. i stated that the family were well and that mr. potts was as well as usual. it turned out that several of the persons present knew the potts family, and that mr. potts had died two months previously. i was immediately arrested and placed in a secure place, tied and chained to the floor. thus sin brought me into trouble. had i trusted to god and not been in too great haste to get something to eat, he would have helped me. my weakness made me forget that i should not lie to any one, seeing that i had put off the old man with his deeds. in my great need of strengthening food, christ would have succored me had i not forgotten to pray to him and ask his help, for "a man can receive nothing except it be given him from heaven." in nearly all the villages of the south, and on most of the large plantations, were slave-jails, where runaway and refractory slaves were incarcerated. these jails were usually a double pen, the inside pen being covered with a roof, and the top of the outside pen being covered with sharp iron spikes. between the pens one or more savage dogs were usually kept. this was the kind of place i was now placed in. hungry, worn out with my journey, and nearly naked, i soon fell asleep from sheer exhaustion and slept soundly until morning. after i had eaten my breakfast i was taken out of jail at mt. pleasant and started back to holly springs, well ironed and guarded, where i was recognized as wilson's slave. wilson was notified of my apprehension. after laying in the jail at holly springs about three weeks wilson came for me. i had made several attempts in that time to escape, but did not succeed. i was ironed and compelled to walk, which, in my exhausted state, was too much for me, and i was taken violently sick on the road, when wilson procured a conveyance and hauled me the balance of the way home. a physician was immediately summoned, who ordered my shackles removed. after the irons were removed i regained my spirits, and entertained hopes of being able to make another attempt to regain my liberty. i was very sick for several days. about two o'clock on the last morning i stayed there i awoke and felt fresh, and found that my strength had in a great measure returned. upon looking around the moonlit room i found that i was alone. to escape was my very first intention. getting out of bed i examined the window to the cabin, when i found i could raise it easily. i gathered what clothes i could find, as well as a blanket from the bed, and climbing through the window made my escape unobserved. i did not stop to put on my clothes until i had got two or three miles from the plantation. i stayed in the woods about three weeks, when i returned to my master and asked his forgiveness, and promised that i would never run away again. i was forgiven. during my three weeks' starving and hiding in the woods i had ample time for reflection and thought. prayerfully i considered my situation and asked god's help to direct me. i came to the conclusion that i was entirely wrong in my course. god, for his own good purpose, had placed me in bondage, and in his good time he would relieve me either by death or emancipation. my hardships, i felt, were by reason of my disobedience to god's will. although i was a slave god had given me my task in his vineyard as a slave, and i should have fronted the wrath of my master, wilson, rather than that of god. i felt that i was doing wrong, and after prayerful consideration i determined to do right, and go back to the plantation and patiently await god's time to set me free. wilson received me as kindly as his nature would permit, and treated me as he did the other slaves and as if i had never been disobedient to him and ran away. i felt better, and knew then that i was right in the sight of my heavenly father. my views underwent a change for the better while i was an outcast in the woods, and after that i was better fitted to do my allotted work for god. chapter vi. was hired to mr. thompson, and adopted his name--opened regular meetings, and preached on the plantation and other places--took unto myself a wife--was purchased by thompson, duly installed on the plantation, and invested with authority--various means and plans resorted to by the overseer to degrade me in the eyes of mr. thompson--driven, through persecution, to run away--returned back to my master. a short time after i came in from the woods wilson determined to hire me to a man named thompson, who lived about twenty miles away. i made no objection, and was duly hired for the term of three years. i adopted the name "thompson," from my new master, which i have since retained. the slaves of the south are usually named like brutes, with only one name for a designation, and it became customary among the slaves to adopt the surname of their masters. i had never adopted the name of wilson, because i disliked the man; but as soon as i was hired to mr. thompson i took his name, therefore i was henceforth known as charles thompson. the adoption of a name by myself may appear strange to a great many of my readers, yet when it comes to be considered that i was a human chattel, with no rights or privileges of american citizenship, and that i was without a name, except simply "charles," no surprise will be felt. i labored faithfully and honestly for mr. thompson during my term of service, and endeavored in all things to do my duty. i made such efforts as i could to bring the slaves on the plantation to jesus, and inaugurated regular and stated meetings. i preached and exhorted on the plantation and at other places where i could gather the negroes to hear me; and i felt that i was the means in god's hands of redeeming precious souls. in these meetings i had helpers from among the most intelligent of the slaves, and made such progress that at all our meetings we would have a number of god-fearing whites to pray with us. during my term of hired service with mr. thompson i married a colored girl and added the responsibilities of a husband to my various cares. the marriage of slaves was a mere formality among themselves, there being nothing legal, according to the laws of the southern states, about the ceremony or marriage contract. the slaves cohabited together in most instances with the express or implied consent of their masters; and as the masters did not regard the marriage of their slaves as anything, wives and husbands were constantly in danger of being separated forever. but the slaves themselves instituted a ceremony which they considered morally binding, as far as they were concerned; and the slave-owners deemed it prudent to gratify their slaves by a recognition, in some degree, of the marital relations that might exist among them. therefore a certain set of rules came into operation, by general consent, governing the visits of the husband to the wife when owned by different masters. when the wife of a slave lived not more than five miles from his master he could visit her once a week; when she lived not more than ten miles away, he could go to see her once in two weeks; and when she lived twenty or more miles away he could go to see her only once in two months. at the expiration of my term of service i was loth to leave my wife at thompson's, and go back to wilson's, and strenuously objected, knowing that i could get to see her only once in two months. wilson having learned that i was not desirous of returning to him, wrote to mr. thompson to send me home as soon as the last day of my service expired; but mr. thompson was desirous of retaining me, and made efforts to that effect. he sent me to wilson to learn the price set for me. i arrived in due time, when wilson informed me that he would sell me to thompson, but that he would not take less than twelve hundred dollars, cash. the proposition did not seem to please thompson, but after a time he concluded to buy me, and sent his son to wilson with the purchase money. the purchase at that particular time was lucky for me, as wilson had written thompson a very abusive letter, and it was received by mr. thompson on the evening of the day on which his son went to wilson's to buy me. the bargain was made, however, and i was duly transferred to my new master, by delivery and a bill of sale. the personal matter between wilson and thompson soon blew over, and i was duly installed on the plantation as one of the chattel fixtures. i seemed to take a new lease of life from this time, and determined, if possible, to profit by former experiences and shun every appearance of ill-nature and evil intentions, and to gain the confidence of my new master, that i might better do the work of my heavenly master. all nature seemed lovely to me, and i was happy in doing my duty and obliging the will of god. i was invested with authority on the plantation by mr. thompson, and was required to keep an eye on the overseer, and to report any enormities that might be committed by him. mr. thompson was a wealthy planter and kept a general overseer, besides the usual field bosses; yet there were other slaves on the plantation who had the confidence of the master and were put at such service as required intelligence and integrity. the position in which i was now placed was difficult and onerous; but i did my duty to the very best of my ability, and satisfactorily to my master. the overseer soon found out that i was _his_ overseer; and he used every means, and various plans, to drive me to do something that would degrade me in the eyes of mr. thompson. it was only by reason of the greatest forbearance and the very closest attention to my duties that i escaped his machinations; and by attending to everything with the most scrupulous care he could find no fault with me, that had truth for its foundation. but the constant and pertinacious maliciousness of the overseer, and my own weakness, eventually brought me to grief. as a rule, when a bad and wicked man undertakes any species of devilishness he generally prevails, for a time, and is apparently successful in his schemes; and should he meet with failure at the onset his want of success only maddens him to greater exertions and more persistent efforts. being urged by the devil, and the devil being a hard driver, he either rushes to his own destruction or destroys the happiness or lives of others. thus i was placed in the crucible for further refinement and regeneration. my humanity gave way for some time; but god was with me, and in the end i prevailed. the overseer's name was hines, and he belonged to that class of southern whites who are noted for their ignorance and brutality. he could read and write a little,--just enough to make out a negro's pass or a receipt for money paid on account of his employer. in this respect i was far in advance of him, of which my master was aware, and which was one of the causes of hines' excessive hatred of me, and of his great desire to "put me down and make me know my place," as he termed it. he was very irreligious, and entirely wanting in every attribute of a christian. he was also what in the south is termed a "bully"--that is, he was free to use his pistols on the slightest occasion, when among his equals, but when in the presence of his superiors he was a cringing sycophant and coward. he was a real coward, at best, in all places. he did not want me on the plantation; and he was determined that he would so harrass me that i would become as reckless and devilish as himself, and thereby compel my master to send me to a slave-market to be sold. hines concocted various tales and reported them to mr. thompson, relating to my alleged insubordination, laziness, refusal to work, etc., but all to no effect. finally he told my master that i was so disobedient that the rest of the slaves were affected by my conduct, and that i would ruin all the slaves on the plantation unless severe means were used to conquer me. my master informed hines, after hearing his story, that jack, a fellow-servant of mine in my younger days, had killed prince, another fellow-servant, on wilson's plantation, several years before; that i might be imbued with the same spirit; and that if he undertook to chastise me he might meet with the same fate of prince. this murder occurred after i had been sold by wilson to thompson, but being permitted to return to wilson's plantation once a year to visit and preach to my old flock, i learned the facts regarding the matter. jack belonged to a neighbor of wilson's by the name of scott, and having done something displeasing to scott he wished to tie him up and whip him. jack refused to be whipped by scott or any one else, when prince was called upon by his master (scott) to help him secure jack. prince was reluctant, but was commanded two or three times to take hold of jack and hold him. jack told him not to approach him at the peril of his life; but not heeding jack's warning he made the effort to tie jack, when he was stabbed to the heart with a knife in jack's hand, and expired almost instantly. jack made his escape for a short time, but was captured and immediately hanged without a trial or an opportunity to make any defense. jack was captured in a corn-crib on wilson's plantation, which made thompson suppose the murder had been committed there. this recital, which was made in substance to hines by my master, cowed the overseer considerably, and a house-servant who was present during the conversation afterwards told me that hines' face turned white as a sheet, and he trembled like a leaf. my master knew his overseer was a coward, and that if he could work upon his fears by supposing me to be too high-spirited to stand a whipping, he would probably save me from hines' malice, and keep the overseer to his work. good overseers were hard to get in the south. an intelligent christian man would not have such a position under any circumstances, and the very best of the "poor white trash" who _would_, were unreliable and brutish; therefore mr. thompson had to do the very best he could under the circumstances. he did not believe hines; yet he had to humor him, in a measure. after a few days hines reported to mr. thompson that he had heard me say that i would never be whipped by him or any other overseer on the plantation, as long as i had life to resist, which was a most malicious falsehood. what i did tell hines was, that i would so conduct myself and so perform my work that he nor any other overseer on the plantation should never have cause to chastise me. the falsehood inflamed my master, and in his wrath he told hines to whip me for the first offense i might commit, or kill me in the attempt. armed with this instruction, hines was in high glee; yet he dare not attempt anything without first laying well his plans and making sure of sufficient force to carry them out. the next morning he charged me to pick six hundred pounds of cotton and deliver it at the weighing-house at night, under penalty, for a failure, of one hundred lashes on my bare back with a rawhide. this would not have been an extraordinary task in good cotton; but where we had to work that day the cotton was poor, and in that field the crop was not more than half a one. however, i worked hard against fate all day, and prayed to almighty god to help me in my hour of need, and keep me steadfast. i knew i was to be punished not for any fault or misdoing, but simply to gratify a brute in human shape, and my inferior in intellect, morality, and physical strength. the burden was hard to bear, yet i prayed for strength to bear it. when called from the field to the weighing-house i was kept waiting until all the other slaves had their cotton weighed. when mine was weighed i was told by hines that i had only picked four hundred pounds. i verily believed this to be untrue, and felt convinced that i had picked at least five hundred pounds, for i was one of the best, if not the best, cotton-pickers in the country; and i had labored faithfully and rapidly all day, and did not lose a minute's time, unnecessarily. hines turned to me and said, go to your quarters; i will settle with you in the morning. now began new trials. my duty and my christianity instructed me to face the undeserved and unjust punishment manfully. the devil and my human nature told me to run away. i became weak. the fear of the disgrace of a whipping was too much for me, and i succumbed to the evil one. i made such arrangements as i could, and concealed myself on the plantation, before daylight the next morning, so that i could take an early start in the night and travel behind my pursuers instead of before them. my wife knew of my hiding-place, and when night came she sought me and reported what had been done for my capture. hines seemed, she said, to be more cheerful than usual in the morning when he found i was gone, and hastened to report the good news, as he thought, to mr. thompson. after some conversation between them it was determined by my master to obtain the services of a professional slave-hunter, and follow me with hounds. the slave-hunter was sent for and came with his pack of dogs that same day about noon. the hunt was immediately begun, and the country was then being scoured in all directions for my tracks. this information put me on my guard, and gave me time to consider what direction i had better take in my flight. i had provide myself a preparation called "smut" among the negroes, which, when spread thinly on the soles of the shoes or feet, destroyed that peculiar scent by which blood-hounds are enabled to follow the trail of a man or a beast. after bidding my wife farewell i smeared my shoes with "smut" and started in the direction of the hills, beyond which was a large swamp, the refuge of many a poor runaway. on my way i had to pass through innumerable thickets of underbrush and briers, and by reason thereof i tore my already much-worn clothes almost into shreds, and lacerated my flesh severely, especially on my arms and legs. i arrived in the swamp, however, without being followed by the dogs, and while proceeding slowly and dejectedly along, my steps were suddenly stopped by a fierce and loud growl. i was frightened, to be sure, yet i knew scarcely what to do. the growl proceeded from a bear, i felt fully assured, for bears roamed through the hills and swamps of mississippi. but with presence of mind i retreated slowly from the presence of mr. and mrs. bruin, and not being followed by the bears my fears on that score were removed. about this time it began to rain; and the night was one of those black, foreboding nights that novelists love so well to depict in their descriptions of storms. the lightning flashed with a vividness that lighted up the dismal swamps with a weird and horrible brightness; the thunder rolled peal upon peal, making to me a pandemonium, real and feeling; the pitiless rain pelted me unmercifully and constantly, with that persistence that made it almost unendurable to me. i sat down at the root of a large tree, not to shelter myself from the rain but to protect myself from the attack of any wild animal that should approach me. there i sat the rest of the long night, unfriended, alone, forsaken,--a hunted outcast. "man's inhumanity to man makes countless thousands mourn." the condition in which i was now placed rendered me indeed a pitiable object. i waited and longed for morning to come; but the long, slow minutes passed lazily along without regard to my sufferings or wishes. after a long time, to me, i heard a rooster crow, and the welcome sound brought me to my feet in an instant. i started in the direction of the sound, and approached warily. having walked a short distance i reached the edge of the swamps, or rather a dry spot or oasis in the swamp, and by the faint glimmer of day, which was just breaking, i could see the outlines of a house. the cock continued to crow, which seemed to invite me to approach, and which i construed into a good omen,--at least i really felt good at the sight of the house, even though it might contain those who would chain me and take me back to my master. i noticed that a public road ran along close to the house; and after going on the road, in approaching the house i was discovered by a dog, belonging to the house, who set up a furious barking. fearing to stay and make my wants known i again sought "cover" in the swamp. i stayed in the swamp that day and ate such berries, roots, and nuts as i could find. i had plenty of time for prayer and meditation. i was alone with god, and prayed to him for help in my distress, and for direction. i became convinced that i had done wrong in running away, and deemed that i had sinned against god. i had been a runaway and an outcast before, and had came to right conclusions; yet i had turned from the path of duty, and was even now being punished for my sin. i determined to return to my master and take the consequences of my acts in running away. i asked god to have mercy on me and pardon my sins, and protect me from the wrath of my master and the maliciousness of hines. having fully made up my mind to return to thompson and make such efforts as i could to allay the punishment i expected to receive, i set about perfecting my plans to get there without being apprehended by the slave-hunters, who were then, i have no doubt, hunting for me. my master had offered a reward for my return to his plantation; and should any one arrest me and take me home, although i might be returning on my own accord, they would receive the reward and i would have to make up the amount to my master in extra labor and extra punishment. to avoid this was now my object. at night i left the swamp and went to the road, intending to travel home that night--thinking i was not more than ten or twelve miles away from there. i was uncertain which way to go; but i finally started off on the road, hoping that i was going in the direction of thompson's. the rain was pattering down; but i traveled briskly all that night, and about day-break i came to a plantation. i entered one of the slave-cabins and told the inmates i was lost, hungry, and tired, and asked them for something to eat. one of the colored men spoke to a woman who appeared to be his wife, and told her to get me something to eat, and that he would go and get some pine to put on the fire. his actions, and the manner in which he spoke, aroused my suspicions, and being fearful that he intended to betray me, i left the cabin directly after he did, and sought an asylum in the woods, where i stayed during that day. thus "the wicked flee when no one pursueth." at night i found the same road i had traveled the day before, and started again to try and get to thompson's. i knew that i was wrong, and that i was traveling away from instead of toward thompson's; therefore i concluded to make inquiries at the first opportunity. after traveling three or four miles i came to a cabin in which there was a light shining through the cracks between the logs. approaching the cabin, i intended to enter; but being enabled to see the inmates through the cracks i discovered three white men sitting around the fire, so i turned to leave. as i was passing the corner of the cabin a colored woman came to the door for some purpose, and saw me. she jumped back into the cabin, at the same time exclaiming, "here's a runaway nigger!" i immediately ran for the road; but a dog--not a blood-hound--followed me, and while getting over the fence between the cabin and the road he caught me by the breeches leg. i shook him off and ran for the woods. the white men were slave-hunters, and were after me particularly, as i learned afterwards. they followed me closely by the sound of the crackling of brush, and put the dogs they had with them on my track. these dogs, fortunately for me, were in the cabin at the time i approached it. as soon as i heard the first yelp of a blood-hound i "smutted" my shoe-soles, and soon threw them off the scent. the white men followed me about three or four miles. finally, finding i would not get away from them by running, i stopped, and making my way into a dense thicket of briers i sat down. the white men stopped a short distance from me and listened, i suppose, for the sound of brush cracking. after waiting a short time one of them started off in the direction they had come, leaving the others still waiting,--using this ruse in order to throw me off my guard, so as to enable the remaining ones to ascertain where i was by the noise i would make in walking. i was too close to them; and from the noise i heard from where they were standing i knew they had a dog with them, and that they were only waiting for me to move to begin the chase again. i sat perfectly quiet, and waited patiently for the remaining whites and the dog to leave. after a time the men began to move about through the brush, coming still closer to me. i heard them talking, when one of them said, "we ought to catch the nigger if we have to run him all night." "no" said the other, "we should let him alone to-night, and start him up in the morning, when we can have daylight for the chase, and not run him to-night, for we might run him off and never catch him." after a short parley they concluded to get some more dogs and be on the ground before daylight, so as to make sure of me. as soon as they had gone out of my hearing i emerged from the brier thicket. i found my limbs had become sore and benumbed from the exposure and hardships i had undergone, and i was intensely hungry. i worried along, however, to get out of that neighborhood as soon as possible. the sky was now clear, the air frosty, and my rags were but a scant protection to me. after walking awhile i found my soreness began to leave me, when i began to accelerate my pace. i had to walk as fast as i could, and exercise my limbs all i could, in order to keep warm. after walking some time i came to a plantation. upon reconnoitering, i found an old house, and approaching it with the intention of seeking a little rest in it during the remainder of the night and the next day, i saw a light in it. i went in, however, and found it to be the workshop of the plantation, and five colored men were there putting handles in their axes. i asked them for something to eat, and was about to tell them the truth regarding myself, when one of the negroes hurried me out of the cabin, saying he would get me something to eat. after we got out he told me i was very imprudent, for if i had told the negroes who i was and that i was a runaway, they would have taken me themselves. he got me some meat and bread, and after i had told him who i was and that i wanted to find my way back to thompson's, he put me on the right road and gave me such directions as i required. i found that i was about fifty miles from thompson's plantation, and that it would require two nights' hard walking to get there. i felt very much discouraged, and grieved considerably to myself. however, having satisfied the cravings of my appetite, i plucked up courage and started on my long return walk with renewed energy. after traveling about five miles i came to a little town. i was afraid to go through it on account of the liability of being apprehended; and i did not like to go around it for fear of getting lost again. i determined to risk going through the place, and, by avoiding every one, escape detection. there was quite an excitement here by reason of an epidemic sickness among the children, and about every other house had a light in it. i passed through the town with fear; but i escaped arrest and felt like rejoicing over my good fortune, not once thinking of any dangers or hardships that might lay before me. after i got through the town i came to a considerable stream, with a bridge across it, the name of which i am unable to give; but on the opposite end of the bridge from the town there is a road-way, or levee, thrown up across the "bottom" for about two miles. at the time i crossed, the stream was very much swelled from the recent rains, and the water extended all over the bottom on each side of the road-grade, and to within two or three feet of the top of it. this grade i had to cross; and i was greatly afraid that i would meet some one. i started across, and when about half way over the grade, or levee, i heard hounds baying ahead of me; and the sounds seemed to be approaching me, i became very much frightened, and turned and fled back to the bridge, when, just as i was stepping on it, i heard men's voices, and stopped, when i found they were coming across the bridge toward me. i concluded i would rather face the blood-hounds than the white men, so i made my way back over the grade as hurriedly as i could. i reached the end of the grade without meeting the hounds and turned off into the woods. after walking a short distance i heard the hounds again, and the sound of their yelps was nearing me rapidly. i turned my course immediately, and ran as fast as i was able for three or four hundred yards, when i saw distinctly, in the starlight, a man running nearly toward me. my heart leaped into my throat, as it were, and i made ready for battle. but the man proved to be a poor runaway like myself, and the one whom the hounds were after. i had got into a field, and the runaway passed through the same field without noticing me. i kept on in an opposite direction from the one which he had taken, and crossed the fence on the other side of the field just in time to hear one of the slave-hunters say, "there he is now; i heard him getting over the fence." i threw myself on the ground and awaited results. the dogs were "hot" on the other slave's track, and were running at a great rate, which induced the slave-hunters to think their companion was mistaken. so, to my great relief and pleasure, they started on after the hounds. i was nearly exhausted by my exertions during the night, and as it was now nearly morning i lay on the ground for a time to rest and recuperate my worn-out energies a little. in a short time i got up, and after looking around i saw the outlines of plantation houses in the distance. on going to them i found a resting-place in a fodder-loft, in the horse-lot of the plantation. i ensconced myself in the fodder, when i again heard the infernal yelps of the blood-hounds, and the more infernal yelps of the white pursuers urging the hounds after the poor runaway. the hounds soon after caught the poor wretch, whose cries for mercy were heart-rending and piteous. my situation was perilous; yet i had hopes that the other slave being run down and caught would save me, from the fact that the hunters were not aware of the presence of another runaway in the immediate neighborhood. the day wore slowly away, and being very weak from hunger and fatigue i was unable to gain that rest my wasted body required. i slept two or three hours, however, and had ample time for reflection. the bridge where i had been so completely hemmed in the night before was impressed deeply upon my memory; and the agony of mind while on the bridge was still troubling me. i relied on a loving heavenly father in my troubles and trials, and brought to my mind the condition of the children of israel when about to be overwhelmed by the hosts of pharaoh on the shore of the red sea. god delivered them, and i believed he would deliver me. my faith was strong. night came at last, when i cautiously emerged from my hiding-place and continued my journey toward home. i ran and walked about twenty-five miles, and did not find any familiar objects to lead me to suppose i was in the neighborhood of my master's plantation, when i began to look about for a place of concealment in which to spend another weary and lonesome day. walking slowly along, after a short time my attention was attracted by sounds as if some one was pounding a hard substance. on stopping and listening, i soon heard some person calling hogs. the voice seemed familiar. upon further investigation i began to recognize objects, and soon ascertained that i was "at home." now that i had got back "home," new troubles arose in my mind. i would be punished severely, without doubt. instead of going to "the quarters" i went directly to my master's plantation, in the hope that i could enlist my mistress in my behalf, and thus have the way made smooth for me. my master was not at home, fortunately, and my mistress heard my story and prayers for forgiveness. she promised to intercede with my master for me, but that i must promise not to run away again, which i did. she bade me to go and hide myself in the stable loft, and not to leave there until she sent for me. soon after, my master came home. in conversation with him my mistress broached the subject as to my whereabouts. he told her that he believed i had got to the free states and was lost to him; however, that if any of the slaves on the plantation knew where i was they should get me word that if i would come back i should not be punished, and that i should be forgiven. in that case my mistress said she would insure my return speedily. matters were soon arranged, and i was re-instated in my former position on the plantation. but severe trials were soon to overtake me, and what i had already gone through was but an atom in comparison with what i afterwards suffered from the hands of my master, and by reason of my condition of slavery. thus ended my earlier experiences as a slave, from my earliest recollection down to the time of my return to thompson's plantation. i propose to continue this biography, and include the whole in book form. this pamphlet is printed for the purpose of enabling me to raise money to continue my work and paying for printing the whole in a book substantially and neatly bound. to the friends of the colored race i appeal for help in this matter, hoping that sufficient interest is taken to insure the accumulation of sufficient funds for my purpose. the remainder will contain my full experience as a minister of the gospel, and incidents relating to my efforts and the efforts of my co-workers in building up the church of christ among the former slaves of the south, and such suggestions as i may deem proper to aid to raise the standard of intelligence among negroes. gutenberg. (this file was produced from images generously made available by the internet archive.) [transcriber's note: every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully as possible, including obsolete and variant spellings and other inconsistencies. text that has been changed is noted at the end of this ebook.] [illustration: solomon in his plantation suit. solomon northup (signed)] fifth thousand. twelve years a slave. narrative of solomon northup, a citizen of new-york, kidnapped in washington city in 1841, and rescued in 1853, from a cotton plantation near the red river, in louisiana. auburn: derby and miller. buffalo: derby, orton and mulligan. london: sampson low, son & company, 47 ludgate hill. 1853. entered according to act of congress, in the year one thousand eight hundred and fifty-three, by derby and miller, in the clerk's office of the district court of the northern district of new-york. entered in london at stationers' hall. to harriet beecher stowe: whose name, throughout the world, is identified with the great reform: this narrative, affording another key to uncle tom's cabin, is respectfully dedicated "such dupes are men to custom, and so prone to reverence what is ancient, and can plead a course of long observance for its use, that even servitude, the worst of ills, because delivered down from sire to son, is kept and guarded as a sacred thing. but is it fit, or can it bear the shock of rational discussion, that a man compounded and made up, like other men, of elements tumultuous, in whom lust and folly in as ample measure meet, as in the bosom of the slave he rules, should be a despot absolute, and boast himself the only freeman of his land?" cowper. contents. page. editor's preface, 15 chapter i. introductory--ancestry--the northup family--birth and parentage--mintus northup--marriage with anne hampton--good resolutions--champlain canal--rafting excursion to canada--farming--the violin--cooking--removal to saratoga--parker and perry--slaves and slavery--the children--the beginning of sorrow, 17 chapter ii. the two strangers--the circus company--departure from saratoga--ventriloquism and legerdemain--journey to new-york--free papers--brown and hamilton--the haste to reach the circus--arrival in washington--funeral of harrison--the sudden sickness--the torment of thirst--the receding light--insensibility--chains and darkness, 28 chapter iii. painful meditations--james h. burch--williams' slave pen in washington--the lackey, radburn--assert my freedom--the anger of the trader--the paddle and cat-o'-nine-tails--the whipping--new acquaintances--ray, williams, and randall--arrival of little emily and her mother in the pen--maternal sorrows--the story of eliza, 40 chapter iv. eliza's sorrows--preparation to embark--driven through the streets of washington--hail, columbia--the tomb of washington--clem ray--the breakfast on the steamer--the happy birds--aquia creek--fredericksburgh--arrival in richmond--goodin and his slave pen--robert, of cincinnati--david and his wife--mary and lethe--clem's return--his subsequent escape to canada--the brig orleans--james h. burch, 54 chapter v. arrival at norfolk--frederick and maria--arthur, the freeman--appointed steward--jim, cuffee, and jenny--the storm--bahama banks--the calm--the conspiracy--the long boat--the small-pox--death of robert--manning, the sailor--the meeting in the forecastle--the letter--arrival at new-orleans--arthur's rescue--theophilus freeman, the consignee--platt--first night in the new-orleans slave pen, 65 chapter vi. freeman's industry--cleanliness and clothes--exercising in the show room--the dance--bob, the fiddler--arrival of customers--slaves examined--the old gentleman of new-orleans--sale of david, caroline, and lethe--parting of randall and eliza--small-pox--the hospital--recovery and return to freeman's slave pen--the purchaser of eliza, harry, and platt--eliza's agony on parting from little emily, 78 chapter vii. the steamboat rodolph--departure from new-orleans--william ford--arrival at alexandria, on red river--resolutions--the great pine woods--wild cattle--martin's summer residence--the texas road--arrival at master ford's--rose--mistress ford--sally and her children--john, the cook--walter, sam, and antony--the mills on indian creek--sabbath days--sam's conversion--the profit of kindness--rafting--adam taydem, the little white man--cascalla and his tribe--the indian ball--john m. tibeats--the storm approaching, 89 chapter viii. ford's embarrassments--the sale to tibeats--the chattel mortgage--mistress ford's plantation on bayou boeuf--description of the latter--ford's brother-in-law, peter tanner--meeting with eliza--she still mourns for her children--ford's overseer, chapin--tibeats' abuse--the keg of nails--the first fight with tibeats--his discomfiture and castigation--the attempt to hang me--chapin's interference and speech--unhappy reflections--abrupt departure of tibeats, cook, and ramsey--lawson and the brown mule--message to the pine woods, 105 chapter ix. the hot sun--yet bound--the cords sink into my flesh--chapin's uneasiness--speculation--rachel, and her cup of water--suffering increases--the happiness of slavery--arrival of ford--he cuts the cords which bind me, and takes the rope from my neck--misery--the gathering of the slaves in eliza's cabin--their kindness--rachel repeats the occurrences of the day--lawson entertains his companions with an account of his ride--chapin's apprehensions of tibeats--hired to peter tanner--peter expounds the scriptures--description of the stocks, 118 chapter x. return to tibeats--impossibility of pleasing him--he attacks me with a hatchet--the struggle over the broad axe--the temptation to murder him--escape across the plantation--observations from the fence--tibeats approaches, followed by the hounds--they take my track--their loud yells--they almost overtake me--i reach the water--the hounds confused--moccasin snakes--alligators--night in the "great pacoudrie swamp"--the sounds of life--north-west course--emerge into the pine woods--slave and his young master--arrival at ford's--food and rest, 131 chapter xi. the mistress' garden--the crimson and golden fruit--orange and pomegranate trees--return to bayou boeuf--master ford's remarks on the way--the meeting-with tibeats--his account of the chase--ford censures his brutality--arrival at the plantation--astonishment of the slaves on seeing me--the anticipated flogging--kentucky john--mr. eldret, the planter--eldret's sam--trip to the "big cane brake"--the tradition of "sutton's field"--forest trees--gnats and mosquitoes--the arrival of black women in the big cane--lumber women--sudden appearance of tibeats--his provoking treatment--visit to bayou boeuf--the slave pass--southern hospitality--the last of eliza--sale to edwin epps, 146 chapter xii. personal appearance of epps--epps, drunk and sober--a glimpse of his history--cotton growing--the mode of ploughing and preparing ground--of planting, of hoeing, of picking, of treating raw hands--the difference in cotton pickers--patsey a remarkable one--tasked according to ability--beauty of a cotton field--the slave's labors--fear of approaching the gin-house--weighing--"chores"--cabin life--the corn mill--the uses of the gourd--fear of oversleeping--fear continually--mode of cultivating corn--sweet potatoes--fertility of the soil--fattening hogs--preserving bacon--raising cattle--shooting-matches--garden products--flowers and verdure, 162 chapter xiii. the curious axe-helve--symptoms of approaching illness--continue to decline--the whip ineffectual--confined to the cabin--visit by dr. wines--partial recovery--failure at cotton picking--what may be heard on epps' plantation--lashes graduated--epps in a whipping mood--epps in a dancing mood--description of the dance--loss of rest no excuse--epps' characteristics--jim burns--removal from huff power to bayou boeuf--description of uncle abram; of wiley; of aunt phebe; of bob, henry, and edward; of patsey; with a genealogical account of each--something of their past history, and peculiar characteristics-jealousy and lust--patsey, the victim, 176 chapter xiv. destruction of the cotton crop in 1845--demand for laborers in st. mary's parish--sent thither in a drove--the order of the march--the grand coteau--hired to judge turner on bayou salle--appointed driver in his sugar house--sunday services--slave furniture; how obtained--the party at yarney's, in centreville--good fortune--the captain of the steamer--his refusal to secrete me--return to bayou boeuf--sight of tibeats--patsey's sorrows--tumult and contention--hunting the coon and opossum--the cunning of the latter--the lean condition of the slave--description of the fish trap--the murder of the man from natchez--epps challenged by marshall--the influence of slavery--the love of freedom, 191 chapter xv. labors on sugar plantations--the mode of planting cane--of hoeing cane--cane ricks--cutting cane--description of the cane knife--winrowing--preparing for succeeding crops--description of hawkins' sugar mill on bayou boeuf--the christmas holidays--the carnival season of the children of bondage--the christmas supper--red, the favorite color--the violin, and the consolation it afforded--the christmas dance--lively, the coquette--sam roberts, and his rivals--slave songs--southern life as it is--three days in the year--the system of marriage--uncle abram's contempt of matrimony, 208 chapter xvi. overseers--how they are armed and accompanied--the homicide--his execution at marksville--slave drivers--appointed driver on removing to bayou boeuf--practice makes perfect--epps's attempt to cut platt's throat--the escape from him--protected by the mistress--forbids reading and writing--obtain a sheet of paper after nine years' effort--the letter--armsby, the mean white--partially confide in him--his treachery--epps' suspicions--how they were quieted--burning the letter--armsby leaves the bayou--disappointment and despair, 223 chapter xvii. wiley disregards the counsels of aunt phebe and uncle abram, and is caught by the patrollers--the organization and duties of the latter--wiley runs away--speculations in regard to him--his unexpected return--his capture on the red river, and confinement in alexandria jail--discovered by joseph b. roberts--subduing dogs in anticipation of escape--the fugitives in the great pine woods--captured by adam taydem and the indians--augustus killed by dogs--nelly, eldret's slave woman--the story of celeste--the concerted movement--lew cheney, the traitor--the idea of insurrection, 236 chapter xviii. o'niel, the tanner--conversation with aunt phebe overheard--epps in the tanning business--stabbing of uncle abram--the ugly wound--epps is jealous--patsey is missing--her return from shaw's--harriet, shaw's black wife--epps enraged--patsey denies his charges--she is tied down naked to four stakes--the inhuman flogging--flaying of patsey--the beauty of the day--the bucket of salt water--the dress stiff with blood--patsey grows melancholy--her idea of god and eternity--of heaven and freedom--the effect of slave-whipping--epps' oldest son--"the child is father to the man," 250 chapter xix. avery, on bayou rouge--peculiarity of dwellings--epps builds a new house--bass, the carpenter--his noble qualities--his personal appearance and eccentricities--bass and epps discuss the question of slavery--epps' opinion of bass--i make myself known to him--our conversation--his surprise--the midnight meeting on the bayou bank--bass' assurances--declares war against slavery--why i did not disclose my history--bass writes letters--copy of his letter to messrs. parker and perry--the fever of suspense--disappointments--bass endeavors to cheer me--my faith in him, 263 chapter xx. bass faithful to his word--his arrival on christmas eve--the difficulty of obtaining an interview--the meeting in the cabin--non-arrival of the letter--bass announces his intention to proceed north--christmas--conversation between epps and bass--young mistress mccoy, the beauty of bayou boeuf--the "ne plus ultra" of dinners--music and dancing--presence of the mistress--her exceeding beauty--the last slave dance--william pierce--oversleep myself--the last whipping--despondency--cold morning--epps' threats--the passing carriage--strangers approaching through the cotton-field--last hour on bayou boeuf, 279 chapter xxi. the letter reaches saratoga--is forwarded to anne--is laid before henry b. northup--the statute of may 14, 1840--its provisions--anne's memorial to the governor--the affidavits accompanying it--senator soule's letter--departure of the agent appointed by the governor--arrival at marksville--the hon. john p. waddill--the conversation on new-york politics--it suggests a fortunate idea--the meeting with bass--the secret out--legal proceedings instituted--departure of northup and the sheriff from marksville for bayou boeuf--arrangements on the way--reach epps' plantation--discover his slaves in the cotton-field--the meeting--the farewell, 289 chapter xxii. arrival in new-orleans--glimpse of freeman--genois, the recorder--his description of solomon--reach charleston interrupted by custom house officers--pass through richmond--arrival in washington--burch arrested--shekels and thorn--their testimony--burch acquitted--arrest of solomon--burch withdraws the complaint--the higher tribunal--departure from washington--arrival at sandy hill--old friends and familiar scenes--proceed to glens falls--meeting with anne, margaret, and elizabeth--solomon northup staunton--incidents--conclusion, 310 appendix, 323 list of illustrations. portrait of solomon in his plantation suit, scene in the slave pen at washington, separation of eliza and her last child, chapin rescues solomon from hanging, the staking out and flogging of the girl patsey, scene in the cotton field, and solomon's delivery, arrival home, and first meeting with his wife and children, editor's preface. when the editor commenced the preparation of the following narrative, he did not suppose it would reach the size of this volume. in order, however, to present all the facts which have been communicated to him, it has seemed necessary to extend it to its present length. many of the statements contained in the following pages are corroborated by abundant evidence--others rest entirely upon solomon's assertion. that he has adhered strictly to the truth, the editor, at least, who has had an opportunity of detecting any contradiction or discrepancy in his statements, is well satisfied. he has invariably repeated the same story without deviating in the slightest particular, and has also carefully perused the manuscript, dictating an alteration wherever the most trivial inaccuracy has appeared. it was solomon's fortune, during his captivity, to be owned by several masters. the treatment he received while at the "pine woods" shows that among slaveholders there are men of humanity as well as of cruelty. some of them are spoken of with emotions of gratitude--others in a spirit of bitterness. it is believed that the following account of his experience on bayou boeuf presents a correct picture of slavery, in all its lights and shadows, as it now exists in that locality. unbiased, as he conceives, by any prepossessions or prejudices, the only object of the editor has been to give a faithful history of solomon northup's life, as he received it from his lips. in the accomplishment of that object, he trusts he has succeeded, notwithstanding the numerous faults of style and of expression it may be found to contain. david wilson. whitehall, n. y., may, 1853. narrative of solomon northup. chapter i. introductory--ancestry--the northup family--birth and parentage--mintus northup--marriage with anne hampton--good resolutions--champlain canal--rafting excursion to canada--farming--the violin--cooking--removal to saratoga--parker and perry--slaves and slavery--the children--the beginning of sorrow. having been born a freeman, and for more than thirty years enjoyed the blessings of liberty in a free state--and having at the end of that time been kidnapped and sold into slavery, where i remained, until happily rescued in the month of january, 1853, after a bondage of twelve years--it has been suggested that an account of my life and fortunes would not be uninteresting to the public. since my return to liberty, i have not failed to perceive the increasing interest throughout the northern states, in regard to the subject of slavery. works of fiction, professing to portray its features in their more pleasing as well as more repugnant aspects, have been circulated to an extent unprecedented, and, as i understand, have created a fruitful topic of comment and discussion. i can speak of slavery only so far as it came under my own observation--only so far as i have known and experienced it in my own person. my object is, to give a candid and truthful statement of facts: to repeat the story of my life, without exaggeration, leaving it for others to determine, whether even the pages of fiction present a picture of more cruel wrong or a severer bondage. as far back as i have been able to ascertain, my ancestors on the paternal side were slaves in rhode island. they belonged to a family by the name of northup, one of whom, removing to the state of new-york, settled at hoosic, in rensselaer county. he brought with him mintus northup, my father. on the death of this gentleman, which must have occurred some fifty years ago, my father became free, having been emancipated by a direction in his will. henry b. northup, esq., of sandy hill, a distinguished counselor at law, and the man to whom, under providence, i am indebted for my present liberty, and my return to the society of my wife and children, is a relative of the family in which my forefathers were thus held to service, and from which they took the name i bear. to this fact may be attributed the persevering interest he has taken in my behalf. sometime after my father's liberation, he removed to the town of minerva, essex county, n. y., where i was born, in the month of july, 1808. how long he remained in the latter place i have not the means of definitely ascertaining. from thence he removed to granville, washington county, near a place known as slyborough, where, for some years, he labored on the farm of clark northup, also a relative of his old master; from thence he removed to the alden farm, at moss street, a short distance north of the village of sandy hill; and from thence to the farm now owned by russel pratt, situated on the road leading from fort edward to argyle, where he continued to reside until his death, which took place on the 22d day of november, 1829. he left a widow and two children--myself, and joseph, an elder brother. the latter is still living in the county of oswego, near the city of that name; my mother died during the period of my captivity. though born a slave, and laboring under the disadvantages to which my unfortunate race is subjected, my father was a man respected for his industry and integrity, as many now living, who well remember him, are ready to testify. his whole life was passed in the peaceful pursuits of agriculture, never seeking employment in those more menial positions, which seem to be especially allotted to the children of africa. besides giving us an education surpassing that ordinarily bestowed upon children in our condition, he acquired, by his diligence and economy, a sufficient property qualification to entitle him to the right of suffrage. he was accustomed to speak to us of his early life; and although at all times cherishing the warmest emotions of kindness, and even of affection towards the family, in whose house he had been a bondsman, he nevertheless comprehended the system of slavery, and dwelt with sorrow on the degradation of his race. he endeavored to imbue our minds with sentiments of morality, and to teach us to place our trust and confidence in him who regards the humblest as well as the highest of his creatures. how often since that time has the recollection of his paternal counsels occurred to me, while lying in a slave hut in the distant and sickly regions of louisiana, smarting with the undeserved wounds which an inhuman master had inflicted, and longing only for the grave which had covered him, to shield me also from the lash of the oppressor. in the church-yard at sandy hill, an humble stone marks the spot where he reposes, after having worthily performed the duties appertaining to the lowly sphere wherein god had appointed him to walk. up to this period i had been principally engaged with my father in the labors of the farm. the leisure hours allowed me were generally either employed over my books, or playing on the violin--an amusement which was the ruling passion of my youth. it has also been the source of consolation since, affording pleasure to the simple beings with whom my lot was cast, and beguiling my own thoughts, for many hours, from the painful contemplation of my fate. on christmas day, 1829, i was married to anne hampton, a colored girl then living in the vicinity of our residence. the ceremony was performed at fort edward, by timothy eddy, esq., a magistrate of that town, and still a prominent citizen of the place. she had resided a long time at sandy hill, with mr. baird, proprietor of the eagle tavern, and also in the family of rev. alexander proudfit, of salem. this gentleman for many years had presided over the presbyterian society at the latter place, and was widely distinguished for his learning and piety. anne still holds in grateful remembrance the exceeding kindness and the excellent counsels of that good man. she is not able to determine the exact line of her descent, but the blood of three races mingles in her veins. it is difficult to tell whether the red, white, or black predominates. the union of them all, however, in her origin, has given her a singular but pleasing expression, such as is rarely to be seen. though somewhat resembling, yet she cannot properly be styled a quadroon, a class to which, i have omitted to mention, my mother belonged. i had just now passed the period of my minority, having reached the age of twenty-one years in the month of july previous. deprived of the advice and assistance of my father, with a wife dependent upon me for support, i resolved to enter upon a life of industry; and notwithstanding the obstacle of color, and the consciousness of my lowly state, indulged in pleasant dreams of a good time coming, when the possession of some humble habitation, with a few surrounding acres, should reward my labors, and bring me the means of happiness and comfort. from the time of my marriage to this day the love i have borne my wife has been sincere and unabated; and only those who have felt the glowing tenderness a father cherishes for his offspring, can appreciate my affection for the beloved children which have since been born to us. this much i deem appropriate and necessary to say, in order that those who read these pages, may comprehend the poignancy of those sufferings i have been doomed to bear. immediately upon our marriage we commenced house-keeping, in the old yellow building then standing at the southern extremity of fort edward village, and which has since been transformed into a modern mansion, and lately occupied by captain lathrop. it is known as the fort house. in this building the courts were sometime held after the organization of the county. it was also occupied by burgoyne in 1777, being situated near the old fort on the left bank of the hudson. during the winter i was employed with others repairing the champlain canal, on that section over which william van nortwick was superintendent. david mceachron had the immediate charge of the men in whose company i labored. by the time the canal opened in the spring, i was enabled, from the savings of my wages, to purchase a pair of horses, and other things necessarily required in the business of navigation. having hired several efficient hands to assist me, i entered into contracts for the transportation of large rafts of timber from lake champlain to troy. dyer beckwith and a mr. bartemy, of whitehall, accompanied me on several trips. during the season i became perfectly familiar with the art and mysteries of rafting--a knowledge which afterwards enabled me to render profitable service to a worthy master, and to astonish the simple-witted lumbermen on the banks of the bayou boeuf. in one of my voyages down lake champlain, i was induced to make a visit to canada. repairing to montreal, i visited the cathedral and other places of interest in that city, from whence i continued my excursion to kingston and other towns, obtaining a knowledge of localities, which was also of service to me afterwards, as will appear towards the close of this narrative. having completed my contracts on the canal satisfactorily to myself and to my employer, and not wishing to remain idle, now that the navigation of the canal was again suspended, i entered into another contract with medad gunn, to cut a large quantity of wood. in this business i was engaged during the winter of 1831-32. with the return of spring, anne and myself conceived the project of taking a farm in the neighborhood. i had been accustomed from earliest youth to agricultural labors, and it was an occupation congenial to my tastes. i accordingly entered into arrangements for a part of the old alden farm, on which my father formerly resided. with one cow, one swine, a yoke of fine oxen i had lately purchased of lewis brown, in hartford, and other personal property and effects, we proceeded to our new home in kingsbury. that year i planted twenty-five acres of corn, sowed large fields of oats, and commenced farming upon as large a scale as my utmost means would permit. anne was diligent about the house affairs, while i toiled laboriously in the field. on this place we continued to reside until 1834. in the winter season i had numerous calls to play on the violin. wherever the young people assembled to dance, i was almost invariably there. throughout the surrounding villages my fiddle was notorious. anne, also, during her long residence at the eagle tavern, had become somewhat famous as a cook. during court weeks, and on public occasions, she was employed at high wages in the kitchen at sherrill's coffee house. we always returned home from the performance of these services with money in our pockets; so that, with fiddling, cooking, and farming, we soon found ourselves in the possession of abundance, and, in fact, leading a happy and prosperous life. well, indeed, would it have been for us had we remained on the farm at kingsbury; but the time came when the next step was to be taken towards the cruel destiny that awaited me. in march, 1834, we removed to saratoga springs. we occupied a house belonging to daniel o'brien, on the north side of washington street. at that time isaac taylor kept a large boarding house, known as washington hall, at the north end of broadway. he employed me to drive a hack, in which capacity i worked for him two years. after this time i was generally employed through the visiting season, as also was anne, in the united states hotel, and other public houses of the place. in winter seasons i relied upon my violin, though during the construction of the troy and saratoga railroad, i performed many hard days' labor upon it. i was in the habit, at saratoga, of purchasing articles necessary for my family at the stores of mr. cephas parker and mr. william perry, gentlemen towards whom, for many acts of kindness, i entertained feelings of strong regard. it was for this reason that, twelve years afterwards, i caused to be directed to them the letter, which is hereinafter inserted, and which was the means, in the hands of mr. northup, of my fortunate deliverance. while living at the united states hotel, i frequently met with slaves, who had accompanied their masters from the south. they were always well dressed and well provided for, leading apparently an easy life, with but few of its ordinary troubles to perplex them. many times they entered into conversation with me on the subject of slavery. almost uniformly i found they cherished a secret desire for liberty. some of them expressed the most ardent anxiety to escape, and consulted me on the best method of effecting it. the fear of punishment, however, which they knew was certain to attend their re-capture and return, in all cases proved sufficient to deter them from the experiment. having all my life breathed the free air of the north, and conscious that i possessed the same feelings and affections that find a place in the white man's breast; conscious, moreover, of an intelligence equal to that of some men, at least, with a fairer skin, i was too ignorant, perhaps too independent, to conceive how any one could be content to live in the abject condition of a slave. i could not comprehend the justice of that law, or that religion, which upholds or recognizes the principle of slavery; and never once, i am proud to say, did i fail to counsel any one who came to me, to watch his opportunity, and strike for freedom. i continued to reside at saratoga until the spring of 1841. the flattering anticipations which, seven years before, had seduced us from the quiet farm-house, on the east side of the hudson, had not been realized. though always in comfortable circumstances, we had not prospered. the society and associations at that world-renowned watering place, were not calculated to preserve the simple habits of industry and economy to which i had been accustomed, but, on the contrary, to substitute others in their stead, tending to shiftlessness and extravagance. at this time we were the parents of three children--elizabeth, margaret, and alonzo. elizabeth, the eldest, was in her tenth year; margaret was two years younger, and little alonzo had just passed his fifth birth-day. they filled our house with gladness. their young voices were music in our ears. many an airy castle did their mother and myself build for the little innocents. when not at labor i was always walking with them, clad in their best attire, through the streets and groves of saratoga. their presence was my delight; and i clasped them to my bosom with as warm and tender love as if their clouded skins had been as white as snow. thus far the history of my life presents nothing whatever unusual--nothing but the common hopes, and loves, and labors of an obscure colored man, making his humble progress in the world. but now i had reached a turning point in my existence--reached the threshold of unutterable wrong, and sorrow, and despair. now had i approached within the shadow of the cloud, into the thick darkness whereof i was soon to disappear, thenceforward to be hidden from the eyes of all my kindred, and shut out from the sweet light of liberty, for many a weary year. chapter ii. the two strangers--the circus company--departure from saratoga--ventriloquism and legerdemain--journey to new-york--free papers--brown and hamilton--the haste to reach the circus--arrival in washington--funeral of harrison--the sudden sickness--the torment of thirst--the receding light--insensibility--chains and darkness. one morning, towards the latter part of the month of march, 1841, having at that time no particular business to engage my attention, i was walking about the village of saratoga springs, thinking to myself where i might obtain some present employment, until the busy season should arrive. anne, as was her usual custom, had gone over to sandy hill, a distance of some twenty miles, to take charge of the culinary department at sherrill's coffee house, during the session of the court. elizabeth, i think, had accompanied her. margaret and alonzo were with their aunt at saratoga. on the corner of congress street and broadway, near the tavern, then, and for aught i know to the contrary, still kept by mr. moon, i was met by two gentlemen of respectable appearance, both of whom were entirely unknown to me. i have the impression that they were introduced to me by some one of my acquaintances, but who, i have in vain endeavored to recall, with the remark that i was an expert player on the violin. at any rate, they immediately entered into conversation on that subject, making numerous inquiries touching my proficiency in that respect. my responses being to all appearances satisfactory, they proposed to engage my services for a short period, stating, at the same time, i was just such a person as their business required. their names, as they afterwards gave them to me, were merrill brown and abram hamilton, though whether these were their true appellations, i have strong reasons to doubt. the former was a man apparently forty years of age, somewhat short and thick-set, with a countenance indicating shrewdness and intelligence. he wore a black frock coat and black hat, and said he resided either at rochester or at syracuse. the latter was a young man of fair complexion and light eyes, and, i should judge, had not passed the age of twenty-five. he was tall and slender, dressed in a snuff-colored coat, with glossy hat, and vest of elegant pattern. his whole apparel was in the extreme of fashion. his appearance was somewhat effeminate, but prepossessing, and there was about him an easy air, that showed he had mingled with the world. they were connected, as they informed me, with a circus company, then in the city of washington; that they were on their way thither to rejoin it, having left it for a short time to make an excursion northward, for the purpose of seeing the country, and were paying their expenses by an occasional exhibition. they also remarked that they had found much difficulty in procuring music for their entertainments, and that if i would accompany them as far as new-york, they would give me one dollar for each day's services, and three dollars in addition for every night i played at their performances, besides sufficient to pay the expenses of my return from new-york to saratoga. i at once accepted the tempting offer, both for the reward it promised, and from a desire to visit the metropolis. they were anxious to leave immediately. thinking my absence would be brief, i did not deem it necessary to write to anne whither i had gone; in fact supposing that my return, perhaps, would be as soon as hers. so taking a change of linen and my violin, i was ready to depart. the carriage was brought round--a covered one, drawn by a pair of noble bays, altogether forming an elegant establishment. their baggage, consisting of three large trunks, was fastened on the rack, and mounting to the driver's seat, while they took their places in the rear, i drove away from saratoga on the road to albany, elated with my new position, and happy as i had ever been, on any day in all my life. we passed through ballston, and striking the ridge road, as it is called, if my memory correctly serves me, followed it direct to albany. we reached that city before dark, and stopped at a hotel southward from the museum. this night i had an opportunity of witnessing one of their performances--the only one, during the whole period i was with them. hamilton was stationed at the door; i formed the orchestra, while brown provided the entertainment. it consisted in throwing balls, dancing on the rope, frying pancakes in a hat, causing invisible pigs to squeal, and other like feats of ventriloquism and legerdemain. the audience was extraordinarily sparse, and not of the selectest character at that, and hamilton's report of the proceeds presented but a "beggarly account of empty boxes." early next morning we renewed our journey. the burden of their conversation now was the expression of an anxiety to reach the circus without delay. they hurried forward, without again stopping to exhibit, and in due course of time, we reached new-york, taking lodgings at a house on the west side of the city, in a street running from broadway to the river. i supposed my journey was at an end, and expected in a day or two at least, to return to my friends and family at saratoga. brown and hamilton, however, began to importune me to continue with them to washington. they alleged that immediately on their arrival, now that the summer season was approaching, the circus would set out for the north. they promised me a situation and high wages if i would accompany them. largely did they expatiate on the advantages that would result to me, and such were the flattering representations they made, that i finally concluded to accept the offer. the next morning they suggested that, inasmuch as we were about entering a slave state, it would be well, before leaving new-york, to procure free papers. the idea struck me as a prudent one, though i think it would scarcely have occurred to me, had they not proposed it. we proceeded at once to what i understood to be the custom house. they made oath to certain facts showing i was a free man. a paper was drawn up and handed us, with the direction to take it to the clerk's office. we did so, and the clerk having added something to it, for which he was paid six shillings, we returned again to the custom house. some further formalities were gone through with before it was completed, when, paying the officer two dollars, i placed the papers in my pocket, and started with my two friends to our hotel. i thought at the time, i must confess, that the papers were scarcely worth the cost of obtaining them--the apprehension of danger to my personal safety never having suggested itself to me in the remotest manner. the clerk, to whom we were directed, i remember, made a memorandum in a large book, which, i presume, is in the office yet. a reference to the entries during the latter part of march, or first of april, 1841, i have no doubt will satisfy the incredulous, at least so far as this particular transaction is concerned. with the evidence of freedom in my possession, the next day after our arrival in new-york, we crossed the ferry to jersey city, and took the road to philadelphia. here we remained one night, continuing our journey towards baltimore early in the morning. in due time, we arrived in the latter city, and stopped at a hotel near the railroad depot, either kept by a mr. rathbone, or known as the rathbone house. all the way from new-york, their anxiety to reach the circus seemed to grow more and more intense. we left the carriage at baltimore, and entering the cars, proceeded to washington, at which place we arrived just at nightfall, the evening previous to the funeral of general harrison, and stopped at gadsby's hotel, on pennsylvania avenue. after supper they called me to their apartments, and paid me forty-three dollars, a sum greater than my wages amounted to, which act of generosity was in consequence, they said, of their not having exhibited as often as they had given me to anticipate, during our trip from saratoga. they moreover informed me that it had been the intention of the circus company to leave washington the next morning, but that on account of the funeral, they had concluded to remain another day. they were then, as they had been from the time of our first meeting, extremely kind. no opportunity was omitted of addressing me in the language of approbation; while, on the other hand, i was certainly much prepossessed in their favor. i gave them my confidence without reserve, and would freely have trusted them to almost any extent. their constant conversation and manner towards me--their foresight in suggesting the idea of free papers, and a hundred other little acts, unnecessary to be repeated--all indicated that they were friends indeed, sincerely solicitous for my welfare. i know not but they were. i know not but they were innocent of the great wickedness of which i now believe them guilty. whether they were accessory to my misfortunes--subtle and inhuman monsters in the shape of men--designedly luring me away from home and family, and liberty, for the sake of gold--those who read these pages will have the same means of determining as myself. if they were innocent, my sudden disappearance must have been unaccountable indeed; but revolving in my mind all the attending circumstances, i never yet could indulge, towards them, so charitable a supposition. after receiving the money from them, of which they appeared to have an abundance, they advised me not to go into the streets that night, inasmuch as i was unacquainted with the customs of the city. promising to remember their advice, i left them together, and soon after was shown by a colored servant to a sleeping room in the back part of the hotel, on the ground floor. i laid down to rest, thinking of home and wife, and children, and the long distance that stretched between us, until i fell asleep. but no good angel of pity came to my bedside, bidding me to fly--no voice of mercy forewarned me in my dreams of the trials that were just at hand. the next day there was a great pageant in washington. the roar of cannon and the tolling of bells filled the air, while many houses were shrouded with crape, and the streets were black with people. as the day advanced, the procession made its appearance, coming slowly through the avenue, carriage after carriage, in long succession, while thousands upon thousands followed on foot--all moving to the sound of melancholy music. they were bearing the dead body of harrison to the grave. from early in the morning, i was constantly in the company of hamilton and brown. they were the only persons i knew in washington. we stood together as the funeral pomp passed by. i remember distinctly how the window glass would break and rattle to the ground, after each report of the cannon they were firing in the burial ground. we went to the capitol, and walked a long time about the grounds. in the afternoon, they strolled towards the president's house, all the time keeping me near to them, and pointing out various places of interest. as yet, i had seen nothing of the circus. in fact, i had thought of it but little, if at all, amidst the excitement of the day. my friends, several times during the afternoon, entered drinking saloons, and called for liquor. they were by no means in the habit, however, so far as i knew them, of indulging to excess. on these occasions, after serving themselves, they would pour out a glass and hand it to me. i did not become intoxicated, as may be inferred from what subsequently occurred. towards evening, and soon after partaking of one of these potations, i began to experience most unpleasant sensations. i felt extremely ill. my head commenced aching--a dull, heavy pain, inexpressibly disagreeable. at the supper table, i was without appetite; the sight and flavor of food was nauseous. about dark the same servant conducted me to the room i had occupied the previous night. brown and hamilton advised me to retire, commiserating me kindly, and expressing hopes that i would be better in the morning. divesting myself of coat and boots merely, i threw myself upon the bed. it was impossible to sleep. the pain in my head continued to increase, until it became almost unbearable. in a short time i became thirsty. my lips were parched. i could think of nothing but water--of lakes and flowing rivers, of brooks where i had stooped to drink, and of the dripping bucket, rising with its cool and overflowing nectar, from the bottom of the well. towards midnight, as near as i could judge, i arose, unable longer to bear such intensity of thirst. i was a stranger in the house, and knew nothing of its apartments. there was no one up, as i could observe. groping about at random, i knew not where, i found the way at last to a kitchen in the basement. two or three colored servants were moving through it, one of whom, a woman, gave me two glasses of water. it afforded momentary relief, but by the time i had reached my room again, the same burning desire of drink, the same tormenting thirst, had again returned. it was even more torturing than before, as was also the wild pain in my head, if such a thing could be. i was in sore distress--in most excruciating agony! i seemed to stand on the brink of madness! the memory of that night of horrible suffering will follow me to the grave. in the course of an hour or more after my return from the kitchen, i was conscious of some one entering my room. there seemed to be several--a mingling of various voices,--but how many, or who they were, i cannot tell. whether brown and hamilton were among them, is a mere matter of conjecture. i only remember, with any degree of distinctness, that i was told it was necessary to go to a physician and procure medicine, and that pulling on my boots, without coat or hat, i followed them through a long passage-way, or alley, into the open street. it ran out at right angles from pennsylvania avenue. on the opposite side there was a light burning in a window. my impression is there were then three persons with me, but it is altogether indefinite and vague, and like the memory of a painful dream. going towards the light, which i imagined proceeded from a physician's office, and which seemed to recede as i advanced, is the last glimmering recollection i can now recall. from that moment i was insensible. how long i remained in that condition--whether only that night, or many days and nights--i do not know; but when consciousness returned, i found myself alone, in utter darkness, and in chains. the pain in my head had subsided in a measure, but i was very faint and weak. i was sitting upon a low bench, made of rough boards, and without coat or hat. i was hand-cuffed. around my ankles also were a pair of heavy fetters. one end of a chain was fastened to a large ring in the floor, the other to the fetters on my ankles. i tried in vain to stand upon my feet. waking from such a painful trance, it was some time before i could collect my thoughts. where was i? what was the meaning of these chains? where were brown and hamilton? what had i done to deserve imprisonment in such a dungeon? i could not comprehend. there was a blank of some indefinite period, preceding my awakening in that lonely place, the events of which the utmost stretch of memory was unable to recall. i listened intently for some sign or sound of life, but nothing broke the oppressive silence, save the clinking of my chains, whenever i chanced to move. i spoke aloud, but the sound of my voice startled me. i felt of my pockets, so far as the fetters would allow--far enough, indeed, to ascertain that i had not only been robbed of liberty, but that my money and free papers were also gone! then did the idea begin to break upon my mind, at first dim and confused, that i had been kidnapped. but that i thought was incredible. there must have been some misapprehension--some unfortunate mistake. it could not be that a free citizen of new-york, who had wronged no man, nor violated any law, should be dealt with thus inhumanly. the more i contemplated my situation, however, the more i became confirmed in my suspicions. it was a desolate thought, indeed. i felt there was no trust or mercy in unfeeling man; and commending myself to the god of the oppressed, bowed my head upon my fettered hands, and wept most bitterly. chapter iii. painful meditations--james h. burch--williams' slave pen in washington--the lackey, radburn--assert my freedom--the anger of the trader--the paddle and cat-o'-ninetails--the whipping--new acquaintances--ray, williams, and randall--arrival of little emily and her mother in the pen--maternal sorrows--the story of eliza. some three hours elapsed, during which time i remained seated on the low bench, absorbed in painful meditations. at length i heard the crowing of a cock, and soon a distant rumbling sound, as of carriages hurrying through the streets, came to my ears, and i knew that it was day. no ray of light, however, penetrated my prison. finally, i heard footsteps immediately overhead, as of some one walking to and fro. it occurred to me then that i must be in an underground apartment, and the damp, mouldy odors of the place confirmed the supposition. the noise above continued for at least an hour, when, at last, i heard footsteps approaching from without. a key rattled in the lock--a strong door swung back upon its hinges, admitting a flood of light, and two men entered and stood before me. one of them was a large, powerful man, forty years of age, perhaps, with dark, chestnut-colored hair, slightly interspersed with gray. his face was full, his complexion flush, his features grossly coarse, expressive of nothing but cruelty and cunning. he was about five feet ten inches high, of full habit, and, without prejudice, i must be allowed to say, was a man whose whole appearance was sinister and repugnant. his name was james h. burch, as i learned afterwards--a well-known slave-dealer in washington; and then, or lately, connected in business, as a partner, with theophilus freeman, of new-orleans. the person who accompanied him was a simple lackey, named ebenezer radburn, who acted merely in the capacity of turnkey. both of these men still live in washington, or did, at the time of my return through that city from slavery in january last. the light admitted through the open door enabled me to observe the room in which i was confined. it was about twelve feet square--the walls of solid masonry. the floor was of heavy plank. there was one small window, crossed with great iron bars, with an outside shutter, securely fastened. an iron-bound door led into an adjoining cell, or vault, wholly destitute of windows, or any means of admitting light. the furniture of the room in which i was, consisted of the wooden bench on which i sat, an old-fashioned, dirty box stove, and besides these, in either cell, there was neither bed, nor blanket, nor any other thing whatever. the door, through which burch and radburn entered, led through a small passage, up a flight of steps into a yard, surrounded by a brick wall ten or twelve feet high, immediately in rear of a building of the same width as itself. the yard extended rearward from the house about thirty feet. in one part of the wall there was a strongly ironed door, opening into a narrow, covered passage, leading along one side of the house into the street. the doom of the colored man, upon whom the door leading out of that narrow passage closed, was sealed. the top of the wall supported one end of a roof, which ascended inwards, forming a kind of open shed. underneath the roof there was a crazy loft all round, where slaves, if so disposed, might sleep at night, or in inclement weather seek shelter from the storm. it was like a farmer's barnyard in most respects, save it was so constructed that the outside world could never see the human cattle that were herded there. the building to which the yard was attached, was two stories high, fronting on one of the public streets of washington. its outside presented only the appearance of a quiet private residence. a stranger looking at it, would never have dreamed of its execrable uses. strange as it may seem, within plain sight of this same house, looking down from its commanding height upon it, was the capitol. the voices of patriotic representatives boasting of freedom and equality, and the rattling of the poor slave's chains, almost commingled. a slave pen within the very shadow of the capitol! * * * * * such is a correct description as it was in 1841, of williams' slave pen in washington, in one of the cellars of which i found myself so unaccountably confined. "well, my boy, how do you feel now?" said burch, as he entered through the open door. i replied that i was sick, and inquired the cause of my imprisonment. he answered that i was his slave--that he had bought me, and that he was about to send me to new-orleans. i asserted, aloud and boldly, that i was a free man--a resident of saratoga, where i had a wife and children, who were also free, and that my name was northup. i complained bitterly of the strange treatment i had received, and threatened, upon my liberation, to have satisfaction for the wrong. he denied that i was free, and with an emphatic oath, declared that i came from georgia. again and again i asserted i was no man's slave, and insisted upon his taking off my chains at once. he endeavored to hush me, as if he feared my voice would be overheard. but i would not be silent, and denounced the authors of my imprisonment, whoever they might be, as unmitigated villains. finding he could not quiet me, he flew into a towering passion. with blasphemous oaths, he called me a black liar, a runaway from georgia, and every other profane and vulgar epithet that the most indecent fancy could conceive. during this time radburn was standing silently by. his business was, to oversee this human, or rather inhuman stable, receiving slaves, feeding and whipping them, at the rate of two shillings a head per day. turning to him, burch ordered the paddle and cat-o'-ninetails to be brought in. he disappeared, and in a few moments returned with these instruments of torture. the paddle, as it is termed in slave-beating parlance, or at least the one with which i first became acquainted, and of which i now speak, was a piece of hard-wood board, eighteen or twenty inches long, moulded to the shape of an old-fashioned pudding stick, or ordinary oar. the flattened portion, which was about the size in circumference of two open hands, was bored with a small auger in numerous places. the cat was a large rope of many strands--the strands unraveled, and a knot tied at the extremity of each. as soon as these formidable whips appeared, i was seized by both of them, and roughly divested of my clothing. my feet, as has been stated, were fastened to the floor. drawing me over the bench, face downwards, radburn placed his heavy foot upon the fetters, between my wrists, holding them painfully to the floor. with the paddle, burch commenced beating me. blow after blow was inflicted upon my naked body. when his unrelenting arm grew tired, he stopped and asked if i still insisted i was a free man. i did insist upon it, and then the blows were renewed, faster and more energetically, if possible, than before. when again tired, he would repeat the same question, and receiving the same answer, continue his cruel labor. all this time, the incarnate devil was uttering most fiendish oaths. at length the paddle broke, leaving the useless handle in his hand. still i would not yield. all his brutal blows could not force from my lips the foul lie that i was a slave. casting madly on the floor the handle of the broken paddle, he seized the rope. this was far more painful than the other. i struggled with all my power, but it was in vain. i prayed for mercy, but my prayer was only answered with imprecations and with stripes. i thought i must die beneath the lashes of the accursed brute. even now the flesh crawls upon my bones, as i recall the scene. i was all on fire. my sufferings i can compare to nothing else than the burning agonies of hell! [illustration: scene in the slave pen at washington.] at last i became silent to his repeated questions. i would make no reply. in fact, i was becoming almost unable to speak. still he plied the lash without stint upon my poor body, until it seemed that the lacerated flesh was stripped from my bones at every stroke. a man with a particle of mercy in his soul would not have beaten even a dog so cruelly. at length radburn said that it was useless to whip me any more--that i would be sore enough. thereupon, burch desisted, saying, with an admonitory shake of his fist in my face, and hissing the words through his firm-set teeth, that if ever i dared to utter again that i was entitled to my freedom, that i had been kidnapped, or any thing whatever of the kind, the castigation i had just received was nothing in comparison with what would follow. he swore that he would either conquer or kill me. with these consolatory words, the fetters were taken from my wrists, my feet still remaining fastened to the ring; the shutter of the little barred window, which had been opened, was again closed, and going out, locking the great door behind them, i was left in darkness as before. in an hour, perhaps two, my heart leaped to my throat, as the key rattled in the door again. i, who had been so lonely, and who had longed so ardently to see some one, i cared not who, now shuddered at the thought of man's approach. a human face was fearful to me, especially a white one. radburn entered, bringing with him, on a tin plate, a piece of shriveled fried pork, a slice of bread and a cup of water. he asked me how i felt, and remarked that i had received a pretty severe flogging. he remonstrated with me against the propriety of asserting my freedom. in rather a patronizing and confidential manner, he gave it to me as his advice, that the less i said on that subject the better it would be for me. the man evidently endeavored to appear kind--whether touched at the sight of my sad condition, or with the view of silencing, on my part, any further expression of my rights, it is not necessary now to conjecture. he unlocked the fetters from my ankles, opened the shutters of the little window, and departed, leaving me again alone. by this time i had become stiff and sore; my body was covered with blisters, and it was with great pain and difficulty that i could move. from the window i could observe nothing but the roof resting on the adjacent wall. at night i laid down upon the damp, hard floor, without any pillow or covering whatever. punctually, twice a day, radburn came in, with his pork, and bread, and water. i had but little appetite, though i was tormented with continual thirst. my wounds would not permit me to remain but a few minutes in any one position; so, sitting, or standing, or moving slowly round, i passed the days and nights. i was heart sick and discouraged. thoughts of my family, of my wife and children, continually occupied my mind. when sleep overpowered me i dreamed of them--dreamed i was again in saratoga--that i could see their faces, and hear their voices calling me. awakening from the pleasant phantasms of sleep to the bitter realities around me, i could but groan and weep. still my spirit was not broken. i indulged the anticipation of escape, and that speedily. it was impossible, i reasoned, that men could be so unjust as to detain me as a slave, when the truth of my case was known. burch, ascertaining i was no runaway from georgia, would certainly let me go. though suspicions of brown and hamilton were not unfrequent, i could not reconcile myself to the idea that they were instrumental to my imprisonment. surely they would seek me out--they would deliver me from thraldom. alas! i had not then learned the measure of "man's inhumanity to man," nor to what limitless extent of wickedness he will go for the love of gain. in the course of several days the outer door was thrown open, allowing me the liberty of the yard. there i found three slaves--one of them a lad of ten years, the others young men of about twenty and twenty-five. i was not long in forming an acquaintance, and learning their names and the particulars of their history. the eldest was a colored man named clemens ray. he had lived in washington; had driven a hack, and worked in a livery stable there for a long time. he was very intelligent, and fully comprehended his situation. the thought of going south overwhelmed him with grief. burch had purchased him a few days before, and had placed him there until such time as he was ready to send him to the new-orleans market. from him i learned for the first time that i was in william's slave pen, a place i had never heard of previously. he described to me the uses for which it was designed. i repeated to him the particulars of my unhappy story, but he could only give me the consolation of his sympathy. he also advised me to be silent henceforth on the subject of my freedom; for, knowing the character of burch, he assured me that it would only be attended with renewed whipping. the next eldest was named john williams. he was raised in virginia, not far from washington. burch had taken him in payment of a debt, and he constantly entertained the hope that his master would redeem him--a hope that was subsequently realized. the lad was a sprightly child, that answered to the name of randall. most of the time he was playing about the yard, but occasionally would cry, calling for his mother, and wondering when she would come. his mother's absence seemed to be the great and only grief in his little heart. he was too young to realize his condition, and when the memory of his mother was not in his mind, he amused us with his pleasant pranks. at night, ray, williams, and the boy, slept in the loft of the shed, while i was locked in the cell. finally we were each provided with blankets, such as are used upon horses--the only bedding i was allowed to have for twelve years afterwards. ray and williams asked me many questions about new-york--how colored people were treated there; how they could have homes and families of their own, with none to disturb and oppress them; and ray, especially, sighed continually for freedom. such conversations, however, were not in the hearing of burch, or the keeper radburn. aspirations such as these would have brought down the lash upon our backs. it is necessary in this narrative, in order to present a full and truthful statement of all the principal events in the history of my life, and to portray the institution of slavery as i have seen and known it, to speak of well-known places, and of many persons who are yet living. i am, and always was, an entire stranger in washington and its vicinity--aside from burch and radburn, knowing no man there, except as i have heard of them through my enslaved companions. what i am about to say, if false, can be easily contradicted. i remained in williams' slave pen about two weeks. the night previous to my departure a woman was brought in, weeping bitterly, and leading by the hand a little child. they were randall's mother and half-sister. on meeting them he was overjoyed, clinging to her dress, kissing the child, and exhibiting every demonstration of delight. the mother also clasped him in her arms, embraced him tenderly, and gazed at him fondly through her tears, calling him by many an endearing name. emily, the child, was seven or eight years old, of light complexion, and with a face of admirable beauty. her hair fell in curls around her neck, while the style and richness of her dress, and the neatness of her whole appearance indicated she had been brought up in the midst of wealth. she was a sweet child indeed. the woman also was arrayed in silk, with rings upon her fingers, and golden ornaments suspended from her ears. her air and manners, the correctness and propriety of her language--all showed, evidently, that she had sometime stood above the common level of a slave. she seemed to be amazed at finding herself in such a place as that. it was plainly a sudden and unexpected turn of fortune that had brought her there. filling the air with her complainings, she was hustled, with the children and myself, into the cell. language can convey but an inadequate impression of the lamentations to which she gave incessant utterance. throwing herself upon the floor, and encircling the children in her arms, she poured forth such touching words as only maternal love and kindness can suggest. they nestled closely to her, as if _there_ only was there any safety or protection. at last they slept, their heads resting upon her lap. while they slumbered, she smoothed the hair back from their little foreheads, and talked to them all night long. she called them her darlings--her sweet babes--poor innocent things, that knew not the misery they were destined to endure. soon they would have no mother to comfort them--they would be taken from her. what would become of them? oh! she could not live away from her little emmy and her dear boy. they had always been good children, and had such loving ways. it would break her heart, god knew, she said, if they were taken from her; and yet she knew they meant to sell them, and, may be, they would be separated, and could never see each other any more. it was enough to melt a heart of stone to listen to the pitiful expressions of that desolate and distracted mother. her name was eliza; and this was the story of her life, as she afterwards related it: she was the slave of elisha berry, a rich man, living in the neighborhood of washington. she was born, i think she said, on his plantation. years before, he had fallen into dissipated habits, and quarreled with his wife. in fact, soon after the birth of randall, they separated. leaving his wife and daughter in the house they had always occupied, he erected a new one near by, on the estate. into this house he brought eliza; and, on condition of her living with him, she and her children were to be emancipated. she resided with him there nine years, with servants to attend upon her, and provided with every comfort and luxury of life. emily was his child! finally, her young mistress, who had always remained with her mother at the homestead, married a mr. jacob brooks. at length, for some cause, (as i gathered from her relation,) beyond berry's control, a division of his property was made. she and her children fell to the share of mr. brooks. during the nine years she had lived with berry, in consequence of the position she was compelled to occupy, she and emily had become the object of mrs. berry and her daughter's hatred and dislike. berry himself she represented as a man of naturally a kind heart, who always promised her that she should have her freedom, and who, she had no doubt, would grant it to her then, if it were only in his power. as soon as they thus came into the possession and control of the daughter, it became very manifest they would not live long together. the sight of eliza seemed to be odious to mrs. brooks; neither could she bear to look upon the child, half-sister, and beautiful as she was! the day she was led into the pen, brooks had brought her from the estate into the city, under pretence that the time had come when her free papers were to be executed, in fulfillment of her master's promise. elated at the prospect of immediate liberty, she decked herself and little emmy in their best apparel, and accompanied him with a joyful heart. on their arrival in the city, instead of being baptized into the family of freemen, she was delivered to the trader burch. the paper that was executed was a bill of sale. the hope of years was blasted in a moment. from the height of most exulting happiness to the utmost depths of wretchedness, she had that day descended. no wonder that she wept, and filled the pen with wailings and expressions of heart-rending woe. eliza is now dead. far up the red river, where it pours its waters sluggishly through the unhealthy low lands of louisiana, she rests in the grave at last--the only resting place of the poor slave! how all her fears were realized--how she mourned day and night, and never would be comforted--how, as she predicted, her heart did indeed break, with the burden of maternal sorrow, will be seen as the narrative proceeds. chapter iv. eliza's sorrows--preparation to embark--driven through the streets of washington--hail, columbia--the tomb of washington--clem ray--the breakfast on the steamer--the happy birds--aquia creek--fredericksburgh--arrival in richmond--goodin and his slave pen--robert, of cincinnati--david and his wife--mary and lethe--clem's return--his subsequent escape to canada--the brig orleans--james h. burch. at intervals during the first night of eliza's incarceration in the pen, she complained bitterly of jacob brooks, her young mistress' husband. she declared that had she been aware of the deception he intended to practice upon her, he never would have brought her there alive. they had chosen the opportunity of getting her away when master berry was absent from the plantation. he had always been kind to her. she wished that she could see him; but she knew that even he was unable now to rescue her. then would she commence weeping again--kissing the sleeping children--talking first to one, then to the other, as they lay in their unconscious slumbers, with their heads upon her lap. so wore the long night away; and when the morning dawned, and night had come again, still she kept mourning on, and would not be consoled. about midnight following, the cell door opened, and burch and radburn entered, with lanterns in their hands. burch, with an oath, ordered us to roll up our blankets without delay, and get ready to go on board the boat. he swore we would be left unless we hurried fast. he aroused the children from their slumbers with a rough shake, and said they were d--d sleepy, it appeared. going out into the yard, he called clem ray, ordering him to leave the loft and come into the cell, and bring his blanket with him. when clem appeared, he placed us side by side, and fastened us together with hand-cuffs--my left hand to his right. john williams had been taken out a day or two before, his master having redeemed him, greatly to his delight. clem and i were ordered to march, eliza and the children following. we were conducted into the yard, from thence into the covered passage, and up a flight of steps through a side door into the upper room, where i had heard the walking to and fro. its furniture was a stove, a few old chairs, and a long table, covered with papers. it was a white-washed room, without any carpet on the floor, and seemed a sort of office. by one of the windows, i remember, hung a rusty sword, which attracted my attention. burch's trunk was there. in obedience to his orders, i took hold of one of its handles with my unfettered hand, while he taking hold of the other, we proceeded out of the front door into the street in the same order as we had left the cell. it was a dark night. all was quiet. i could see lights, or the reflection of them, over towards pennsylvania avenue, but there was no one, not even a straggler, to be seen. i was almost resolved to attempt to break away. had i not been hand-cuffed the attempt would certainly have been made, whatever consequence might have followed. radburn was in the rear, carrying a large stick, and hurrying up the children as fast as the little ones could walk. so we passed, hand-cuffed and in silence, through the streets of washington--through the capital of a nation, whose theory of government, we are told, rests on the foundation of man's inalienable right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness! hail! columbia, happy land, indeed! reaching the steamboat, we were quickly hustled into the hold, among barrels and boxes of freight. a colored servant brought a light, the bell rung, and soon the vessel started down the potomac, carrying us we knew not where. the bell tolled as we passed the tomb of washington! burch, no doubt, with uncovered head, bowed reverently before the sacred ashes of the man who devoted his illustrious life to the liberty of his country. none of us slept that night but randall and little emmy. for the first time clem ray was wholly overcome. to him the idea of going south was terrible in the extreme. he was leaving the friends and associations of his youth--every thing that was dear and precious to his heart--in all probability never to return. he and eliza mingled their tears together, bemoaning their cruel fate. for my own part, difficult as it was, i endeavored to keep up my spirits. i resolved in my mind a hundred plans of escape, and fully determined to make the attempt the first desperate chance that offered. i had by this time become satisfied, however, that my true policy was to say nothing further on the subject of my having been born a freeman. it would but expose me to mal-treatment, and diminish the chances of liberation. after sunrise in the morning we were called up on deck to breakfast. burch took our hand-cuffs off, and we sat down to table. he asked eliza if she would take a dram. she declined, thanking him politely. during the meal we were all silent--not a word passed between us. a mulatto woman who served at table seemed to take an interest in our behalf--told us to cheer up, and not to be so cast down. breakfast over, the hand-cuffs were restored, and burch ordered us out on the stern deck. we sat down together on some boxes, still saying nothing in burch's presence. occasionally a passenger would walk out to where we were, look at us for a while, then silently return. it was a very pleasant morning. the fields along the river were covered with verdure, far in advance of what i had been accustomed to see at that season of the year. the sun shone out warmly; the birds were singing in the trees. the happy birds--i envied them. i wished for wings like them, that i might cleave the air to where my birdlings waited vainly for their father's coming, in the cooler region of the north. in the forenoon the steamer reached aquia creek. there the passengers took stages--burch and his five slaves occupying one exclusively. he laughed with the children, and at one stopping place went so far as to purchase them a piece of gingerbread. he told me to hold up my head and look smart. that i might, perhaps, get a good master if i behaved myself. i made him no reply. his face was hateful to me, and i could not bear to look upon it. i sat in the corner, cherishing in my heart the hope, not yet extinct, of some day meeting the tyrant on the soil of my native state. at fredericksburgh we were transferred from the stage coach to a car, and before dark arrived in richmond, the chief city of virginia. at this city we were taken from the cars, and driven through the street to a slave pen, between the railroad depot and the river, kept by a mr. goodin. this pen is similar to williams' in washington, except it is somewhat larger; and besides, there were two small houses standing at opposite corners within the yard. these houses are usually found within slave yards, being used as rooms for the examination of human chattels by purchasers before concluding a bargain. unsoundness in a slave, as well as in a horse, detracts materially from his value. if no warranty is given, a close examination is a matter of particular importance to the negro jockey. we were met at the door of goodin's yard by that gentleman himself--a short, fat man, with a round, plump face, black hair and whiskers, and a complexion almost as dark as some of his own negroes. he had a hard, stern look, and was perhaps about fifty years of age. burch and he met with great cordiality. they were evidently old friends. shaking each other warmly by the hand, burch remarked he had brought some company, inquired at what time the brig would leave, and was answered that it would probably leave the next day at such an hour. goodin then turned to me, took hold of my arm, turned me partly round, looked at me sharply with the air of one who considered himself a good judge of property, and as if estimating in his own mind about how much i was worth. "well, boy, where did you come from?" forgetting myself, for a moment, i answered, "from new-york." "new-york! h--l! what have you been doing up there?" was his astonished interrogatory. observing burch at this moment looking at me with an angry expression that conveyed a meaning it was not difficult to understand, i immediately said, "o, i have only been up that way a piece," in a manner intended to imply that although i might have been as far as new-york, yet i wished it distinctly understood that i did not belong to that free state, nor to any other. goodin then turned to clem, and then to eliza and the children, examining them severally, and asking various questions. he was pleased with emily, as was every one who saw the child's sweet countenance. she was not as tidy as when i first beheld her; her hair was now somewhat disheveled; but through its unkempt and soft profusion there still beamed a little face of most surpassing loveliness. "altogether we were a fair lot--a devilish good lot," he said, enforcing that opinion with more than one emphatic adjective not found in the christian vocabulary. thereupon we passed into the yard. quite a number of slaves, as many as thirty i should say, were moving about, or sitting on benches under the shed. they were all cleanly dressed--the men with hats, the women with handkerchiefs tied about their heads. burch and goodin, after separating from us, walked up the steps at the back part of the main building, and sat down upon the door sill. they entered into conversation, but the subject of it i could not hear. presently burch came down into the yard, unfettered me, and led me into one of the small houses. "you told that man you came from new-york," said he. i replied, "i told him i had been up as far as new-york, to be sure, but did not tell him i belonged there, nor that i was a freeman. i meant no harm at all, master burch. i would not have said it had i thought." he looked at me a moment as if he was ready to devour me, then turning round went out. in a few minutes he returned. "if ever i hear you say a word about new-york, or about your freedom, i will be the death of you--i will kill you; you may rely on that," he ejaculated fiercely. i doubt not he understood then better than i did, the danger and the penalty of selling a free man into slavery. he felt the necessity of closing my mouth against the crime he knew he was committing. of course, my life would not have weighed a feather, in any emergency requiring such a sacrifice. undoubtedly, he meant precisely what he said. under the shed on one side of the yard, there was constructed a rough table, while overhead were sleeping lofts--the same as in the pen at washington. after partaking at this table of our supper of pork and bread, i was hand-cuffed to a large yellow man, quite stout and fleshy, with a countenance expressive of the utmost melancholy. he was a man of intelligence and information. chained together, it was not long before we became acquainted with each other's history. his name was robert. like myself, he had been born free, and had a wife and two children in cincinnati. he said he had come south with two men, who had hired him in the city of his residence. without free papers, he had been seized at fredericksburgh, placed in confinement, and beaten until he had learned, as i had, the necessity and the policy of silence. he had been in goodin's pen about three weeks. to this man i became much attached. we could sympathize with, and understand each other. it was with tears and a heavy heart, not many days subsequently, that i saw him die, and looked for the last time upon his lifeless form! robert and myself, with clem, eliza and her children, slept that night upon our blankets, in one of the small houses in the yard. there were four others, all from the same plantation, who had been sold, and were now on their way south, who also occupied it with us. david and his wife, caroline, both mulattoes, were exceedingly affected. they dreaded the thought of being put into the cane and cotton fields; but their greatest source of anxiety was the apprehension of being separated. mary, a tall, lithe girl, of a most jetty black, was listless and apparently indifferent. like many of the class, she scarcely knew there was such a word as freedom. brought up in the ignorance of a brute, she possessed but little more than a brute's intelligence. she was one of those, and there are very many, who fear nothing but their master's lash, and know no further duty than to obey his voice. the other was lethe. she was of an entirely different character. she had long, straight hair, and bore more the appearance of an indian than a negro woman. she had sharp and spiteful eyes, and continually gave utterance to the language of hatred and revenge. her husband had been sold. she knew not where she was. an exchange of masters, she was sure, could not be for the worse. she cared not whither they might carry her. pointing to the scars upon her face, the desperate creature wished that she might see the day when she could wipe them off in some man's blood! while we were thus learning the history of each other's wretchedness, eliza was seated in a corner by herself, singing hymns and praying for her children. wearied from the loss of so much sleep, i could no longer bear up against the advances of that "sweet restorer," and laying down by the side of robert, on the floor, soon forgot my troubles, and slept until the dawn of day. in the morning, having swept the yard, and washed ourselves, under goodin's superintendence, we were ordered to roll up our blankets, and make ready for the continuance of our journey. clem ray was informed that he would go no further, burch, for some cause, having concluded to carry him back to washington. he was much rejoiced. shaking hands, we parted in the slave pen at richmond, and i have not seen him since. but, much to my surprise, since my return, i learned that he had escaped from bondage, and on his way to the free soil of canada, lodged one night at the house of my brother-in-law in saratoga, informing my family of the place and the condition in which he left me. in the afternoon we were drawn up, two abreast, robert and myself in advance, and in this order, driven by burch and goodin from the yard, through the streets of richmond to the brig orleans. she was a vessel of respectable size, full rigged, and freighted principally with tobacco. we were all on board by five o'clock. burch brought us each a tin cup and a spoon. there were forty of us in the brig, being all, except clem, that were in the pen. with a small pocket knife that had not been taken from me, i began cutting the initials of my name upon the tin cup. the others immediately flocked round me, requesting me to mark theirs in a similar manner. in time, i gratified them all, of which they did not appear to be forgetful. we were all stowed away in the hold at night, and the hatch barred down. we laid on boxes, or where-ever there was room enough to stretch our blankets on the floor. burch accompanied us no farther than richmond, returning from that point to the capital with clem. not until the lapse of almost twelve years, to wit, in january last, in the washington police office, did i set my eyes upon his face again. james h. burch was a slave-trader--buying men, women and children at low prices, and selling them at an advance. he was a speculator in human flesh--a disreputable calling--and so considered at the south. for the present he disappears from the scenes recorded in this narrative, but he will appear again before its close, not in the character of a man-whipping tyrant, but as an arrested, cringing criminal in a court of law, that failed to do him justice. chapter v. arrival at norfolk--frederick and maria--arthur, the freeman--appointed steward--jim, cuffee, and jenny--the storm--bahama banks--the calm--the conspiracy--the long boat--the small-pox--death of robert--manning, the sailor--the meeting in the forecastle--the letter--arrival at new-orleans--arthur's rescue--theophilus freeman, the consignee--platt--first night in the new-orleans slave pen. after we were all on board, the brig orleans proceeded down james river. passing into chesapeake bay, we arrived next day opposite the city of norfolk. while lying at anchor, a lighter approached us from the town, bringing four more slaves. frederick, a boy of eighteen, had been born a slave, as also had henry, who was some years older. they had both been house servants in the city. maria was a rather genteel looking colored girl, with a faultless form, but ignorant and extremely vain. the idea of going to new-orleans was pleasing to her. she entertained an extravagantly high opinion of her own attractions. assuming a haughty mien, she declared to her companions, that immediately on our arrival in new-orleans, she had no doubt, some wealthy single gentleman of good taste would purchase her at once! but the most prominent of the four, was a man named arthur. as the lighter approached, he struggled stoutly with his keepers. it was with main force that he was dragged aboard the brig. he protested, in a loud voice, against the treatment he was receiving, and demanded to be released. his face was swollen, and covered with wounds and bruises, and, indeed, one side of it was a complete raw sore. he was forced, with all haste, down the hatchway into the hold. i caught an outline of his story as he was borne struggling along, of which he afterwards gave me a more full relation, and it was as follows: he had long resided in the city of norfolk, and was a free man. he had a family living there, and was a mason by trade. having been unusually detained, he was returning late one night to his house in the suburbs of the city, when he was attacked by a gang of persons in an unfrequented street. he fought until his strength failed him. overpowered at last, he was gagged and bound with ropes, and beaten, until he became insensible. for several days they secreted him in the slave pen at norfolk--a very common establishment, it appears, in the cities of the south. the night before, he had been taken out and put on board the lighter, which, pushing out from shore, had awaited our arrival. for some time he continued his protestations, and was altogether irreconcilable. at length, however, he became silent. he sank into a gloomy and thoughtful mood, and appeared to be counseling with himself. there was in the man's determined face, something that suggested the thought of desperation. after leaving norfolk the hand-cuffs were taken off, and during the day we were allowed to remain on deck. the captain selected robert as his waiter, and i was appointed to superintend the cooking department, and the distribution of food and water. i had three assistants, jim, cuffee and jenny. jenny's business was to prepare the coffee, which consisted of corn meal scorched in a kettle, boiled and sweetened with molasses. jim and cuffee baked the hoe-cake and boiled the bacon. standing by a table, formed of a wide board resting on the heads of the barrels, i cut and handed to each a slice of meat and a "dodger" of the bread, and from jenny's kettle also dipped out for each a cup of the coffee. the use of plates was dispensed with, and their sable fingers took the place of knives and forks. jim and cuffee were very demure and attentive to business, somewhat inflated with their situation as second cooks, and without doubt feeling that there was a great responsibility resting on them. i was called steward--a name given me by the captain. the slaves were fed twice a day, at ten and five o'clock--always receiving the same kind and quantity of fare, and in the same manner as above described. at night we were driven into the hold, and securely fastened down. scarcely were we out of sight of land before we were overtaken by a violent storm. the brig rolled and plunged until we feared she would go down. some were sea-sick, others on their knees praying, while some were fast holding to each other, paralyzed with fear. the sea-sickness rendered the place of our confinement loathsome and disgusting. it would have been a happy thing for most of us--it would have saved the agony of many hundred lashes, and miserable deaths at last--had the compassionate sea snatched us that day from the clutches of remorseless men. the thought of randall and little emmy sinking down among the monsters of the deep, is a more pleasant contemplation than to think of them as they are now, perhaps, dragging out lives of unrequited toil. when in sight of the bahama banks, at a place called old point compass, or the hole in the wall, we were becalmed three days. there was scarcely a breath of air. the waters of the gulf presented a singularly white appearance, like lime water. in the order of events, i come now to the relation of an occurrence, which i never call to mind but with sensations of regret. i thank god, who has since permitted me to escape from the thralldom of slavery, that through his merciful interposition i was prevented from imbruing my hands in the blood of his creatures. let not those who have never been placed in like circumstances, judge me harshly. until they have been chained and beaten--until they find themselves in the situation i was, borne away from home and family towards a land of bondage--let them refrain from saying what they would not do for liberty. how far i should have been justified in the sight of god and man, it is unnecessary now to speculate upon. it is enough to say that i am able to congratulate myself upon the harmless termination of an affair which threatened, for a time, to be attended with serious results. towards evening, on the first day of the calm, arthur and myself were in the bow of the vessel, seated on the windlass. we were conversing together of the probable destiny that awaited us, and mourning together over our misfortunes. arthur said, and i agreed with him, that death was far less terrible than the living prospect that was before us. for a long time we talked of our children, our past lives, and of the probabilities of escape. obtaining possession of the brig was suggested by one of us. we discussed the possibility of our being able, in such an event, to make our way to the harbor of new-york. i knew little of the compass; but the idea of risking the experiment was eagerly entertained. the chances, for and against us, in an encounter with the crew, was canvassed. who could be relied upon, and who could not, the proper time and manner of the attack, were all talked over and over again. from the moment the plot suggested itself i began to hope. i revolved it constantly in my mind. as difficulty after difficulty arose, some ready conceit was at hand, demonstrating how it could be overcome. while others slept, arthur and i were maturing our plans. at length, with much caution, robert was gradually made acquainted with our intentions. he approved of them at once, and entered into the conspiracy with a zealous spirit. there was not another slave we dared to trust. brought up in fear and ignorance as they are, it can scarcely be conceived how servilely they will cringe before a white man's look. it was not safe to deposit so bold a secret with any of them, and finally we three resolved to take upon ourselves alone the fearful responsibility of the attempt. at night, as has been said, we were driven into the hold, and the hatch barred down. how to reach the deck was the first difficulty that presented itself. on the bow of the brig, however, i had observed the small boat lying bottom upwards. it occurred to me that by secreting ourselves underneath it, we would not be missed from the crowd, as they were hurried down into the hold at night. i was selected to make the experiment, in order to satisfy ourselves of its feasibility. the next evening, accordingly, after supper, watching my opportunity, i hastily concealed myself beneath it. lying close upon the deck, i could see what was going on around me, while wholly unperceived myself. in the morning, as they came up, i slipped from my hiding place without being observed. the result was entirely satisfactory. the captain and mate slept in the cabin of the former. from robert, who had frequent occasion, in his capacity of waiter, to make observations in that quarter, we ascertained the exact position of their respective berths. he further informed us that there were always two pistols and a cutlass lying on the table. the crew's cook slept in the cook galley on deck, a sort of vehicle on wheels, that could be moved about as convenience required, while the sailors, numbering only six, either slept in the forecastle, or in hammocks swung among the rigging. finally our arrangements were all completed. arthur and i were to steal silently to the captain's cabin, seize the pistols and cutlass, and as quickly as possible despatch him and the mate. robert, with a club, was to stand by the door leading from the deck down into the cabin, and, in case of necessity, beat back the sailors, until we could hurry to his assistance. we were to proceed then as circumstances might require. should the attack be so sudden and successful as to prevent resistance, the hatch was to remain barred down; otherwise the slaves were to be called up, and in the crowd, and hurry, and confusion of the time, we resolved to regain our liberty or lose our lives. i was then to assume the unaccustomed place of pilot, and, steering northward, we trusted that some lucky wind might bear us to the soil of freedom. the mate's name was biddee, the captain's i cannot now recall, though i rarely ever forget a name once heard. the captain was a small, genteel man, erect and prompt, with a proud bearing, and looked the personification of courage. if he is still living, and these pages should chance to meet his eye, he will learn a fact connected with the voyage of the brig, from richmond to new-orleans, in 1841, not entered on his log-book. we were all prepared, and impatiently waiting an opportunity of putting our designs into execution, when they were frustrated by a sad and unforeseen event. robert was taken ill. it was soon announced that he had the small-pox. he continued to grow worse, and four days previous to our arrival in new-orleans he died. one of the sailors sewed him in his blanket, with a large stone from the ballast at his feet, and then laying him on a hatchway, and elevating it with tackles above the railing, the inanimate body of poor robert was consigned to the white waters of the gulf. we were all panic-stricken by the appearance of the small-pox. the captain ordered lime to be scattered through the hold, and other prudent precautions to be taken. the death of robert, however, and the presence of the malady, oppressed me sadly, and i gazed out over the great waste of waters with a spirit that was indeed disconsolate. an evening or two after robert's burial, i was leaning on the hatchway near the forecastle, full of desponding thoughts, when a sailor in a kind voice asked me why i was so down-hearted. the tone and manner of the man assured me, and i answered, because i was a freeman, and had been kidnapped. he remarked that it was enough to make any one down-hearted, and continued to interrogate me until he learned the particulars of my whole history. he was evidently much interested in my behalf, and, in the blunt speech of a sailor, swore he would aid me all he could, if it "split his timbers." i requested him to furnish me pen, ink and paper, in order that i might write to some of my friends. he promised to obtain them--but how i could use them undiscovered was a difficulty. if i could only get into the forecastle while his watch was off, and the other sailors asleep, the thing could be accomplished. the small boat instantly occurred to me. he thought we were not far from the balize, at the mouth of the mississippi, and it was necessary that the letter be written soon, or the opportunity would be lost. accordingly, by arrangement, i managed the next night to secret myself again under the long-boat. his watch was off at twelve. i saw him pass into the forecastle, and in about an hour followed him. he was nodding over a table, half asleep, on which a sickly light was flickering, and on which also was a pen and sheet of paper. as i entered he aroused, beckoned me to a seat beside him, and pointed to the paper. i directed the letter to henry b. northup, of sandy hill--stating that i had been kidnapped, was then on board the brig orleans, bound for new-orleans; that it was then impossible for me to conjecture my ultimate destination, and requesting he would take measures to rescue me. the letter was sealed and directed, and manning, having read it, promised to deposit it in the new-orleans post-office. i hastened back to my place under the long-boat, and in the morning, as the slaves came up and were walking round, crept out unnoticed and mingled with them. my good friend, whose name was john manning, was an englishman by birth, and a noble-hearted, generous sailor as ever walked a deck. he had lived in boston--was a tall, well-built man, about twenty-four years old, with a face somewhat pock-marked, but full of benevolent expression. nothing to vary the monotony of our daily life occurred, until we reached new-orleans. on coming to the levee, and before the vessel was made fast, i saw manning leap on shore and hurry away into the city. as he started off he looked back over his shoulder significantly, giving me to understand the object of his errand. presently he returned, and passing close by me, hunched me with his elbow, with a peculiar wink, as much as to say, "it is all right." the letter, as i have since learned, reached sandy hill. mr. northup visited albany and laid it before governor seward, but inasmuch as it gave no definite information as to my probable locality, it was not, at that time, deemed advisable to institute measures for my liberation. it was concluded to delay, trusting that a knowledge of where i was might eventually be obtained. a happy and touching scene was witnessed immediately upon our reaching the levee. just as manning left the brig, on his way to the post-office, two men came up and called aloud for arthur. the latter, as he recognized them, was almost crazy with delight. he could hardly be restrained from leaping over the brig's side; and when they met soon after, he grasped them by the hand, and clung to them a long, long time. they were men from norfolk, who had come on to new-orleans to rescue him. his kidnappers, they informed him, had been arrested, and were then confined in the norfolk prison. they conversed a few moments with the captain, and then departed with the rejoicing arthur. but in all the crowd that thronged the wharf, there was no one who knew or cared for me. not one. no familiar voice greeted my ears, nor was there a single face that i had ever seen. soon arthur would rejoin his family, and have the satisfaction of seeing his wrongs avenged: my family, alas, should i ever see them more? there was a feeling of utter desolation in my heart, filling it with a despairing and regretful sense, that i had not gone down with robert to the bottom of the sea. very soon traders and consignees came on board. one, a tall, thin-faced man, with light complexion and a little bent, made his appearance, with a paper in his hand. burch's gang, consisting of myself, eliza and her children, harry, lethe, and some others, who had joined us at richmond, were consigned to him. this gentleman was mr. theophilus freeman. reading from his paper, he called, "platt." no one answered. the name was called again and again, but still there was no reply. then lethe was called, then eliza, then harry, until the list was finished, each one stepping forward as his or her name was called. "captain, where's platt?" demanded theophilus freeman. the captain was unable to inform him, no one being on board answering to that name. "who shipped _that_ nigger?" he again inquired of the captain, pointing to me. "burch," replied the captain. "your name is platt--you answer my description. why don't you come forward?" he demanded of me, in an angry tone. i informed him that was not my name; that i had never been called by it, but that i had no objection to it as i knew of. "well, i will learn you your name," said he; "and so you won't forget it either, by ----," he added. mr. theophilus freeman, by the way, was not a whit behind his partner, burch, in the matter of blasphemy. on the vessel i had gone by the name of "steward," and this was the first time i had ever been designated as platt--the name forwarded by burch to his consignee. from the vessel i observed the chain-gang at work on the levee. we passed near them as we were driven to freeman's slave pen. this pen is very similar to goodin's in richmond, except the yard was enclosed by plank, standing upright, with ends sharpened, instead of brick walls. including us, there were now at least fifty in this pen. depositing our blankets in one of the small buildings in the yard, and having been called up and fed, we were allowed to saunter about the enclosure until night, when we wrapped our blankets round us and laid down under the shed, or in the loft, or in the open yard, just as each one preferred. it was but a short time i closed my eyes that night. thought was busy in my brain. could it be possible that i was thousands of miles from home--that i had been driven through the streets like a dumb beast--that i had been chained and beaten without mercy--that i was even then herded with a drove of slaves, a slave myself? were the events of the last few weeks realities indeed?--or was i passing only through the dismal phases of a long, protracted dream? it was no illusion. my cup of sorrow was full to overflowing. then i lifted up my hands to god, and in the still watches of the night, surrounded by the sleeping forms of my companions, begged for mercy on the poor, forsaken captive. to the almighty father of us all--the freeman and the slave--i poured forth the supplications of a broken spirit, imploring strength from on high to bear up against the burden of my troubles, until the morning light aroused the slumberers, ushering in another day of bondage. chapter vi. freeman's industry--cleanliness and clothes--exercising in the show room--the dance--bob, the fiddler--arrival of customers--slaves examined--the old gentleman of new-orleans--sale of david, caroline and lethe--parting of randall and eliza--small pox--the hospital--recovery and return to freeman's slave pen--the purchaser of eliza, harry and platt--eliza's agony on parting from little emily. the very amiable, pious-hearted mr. theophilus freeman, partner or consignee of james h. burch, and keeper of the slave pen in new-orleans, was out among his animals early in the morning. with an occasional kick of the older men and women, and many a sharp crack of the whip about the ears of the younger slaves, it was not long before they were all astir, and wide awake. mr. theophilus freeman bustled about in a very industrious manner, getting his property ready for the sales-room, intending, no doubt, to do that day a rousing business. in the first place we were required to wash thoroughly, and those with beards, to shave. we were then furnished with a new suit each, cheap, but clean. the men had hat, coat, shirt, pants and shoes; the women frocks of calico, and handkerchiefs to bind about their heads. we were now conducted into a large room in the front part of the building to which the yard was attached, in order to be properly trained, before the admission of customers. the men were arranged on one side of the room, the women on the other. the tallest was placed at the head of the row, then the next tallest, and so on in the order of their respective heights. emily was at the foot of the line of women. freeman charged us to remember our places; exhorted us to appear smart and lively,--sometimes threatening, and again, holding out various inducements. during the day he exercised us in the art of "looking smart," and of moving to our places with exact precision. after being fed, in the afternoon, we were again paraded and made to dance. bob, a colored boy, who had some time belonged to freeman, played on the violin. standing near him, i made bold to inquire if he could play the "virginia reel." he answered he could not, and asked me if i could play. replying in the affirmative, he handed me the violin. i struck up a tune, and finished it. freeman ordered me to continue playing, and seemed well pleased, telling bob that i far excelled him--a remark that seemed to grieve my musical companion very much. next day many customers called to examine freeman's "new lot." the latter gentleman was very loquacious, dwelling at much length upon our several good points and qualities. he would make us hold up our heads, walk briskly back and forth, while customers would feel of our hands and arms and bodies, turn us about, ask us what we could do, make us open our mouths and show our teeth, precisely as a jockey examines a horse which he is about to barter for or purchase. sometimes a man or woman was taken back to the small house in the yard, stripped, and inspected more minutely. scars upon a slave's back were considered evidence of a rebellious or unruly spirit, and hurt his sale. one old gentleman, who said he wanted a coachman, appeared to take a fancy to me. from his conversation with burch, i learned he was a resident in the city. i very much desired that he would buy me, because i conceived it would not be difficult to make my escape from new-orleans on some northern vessel. freeman asked him fifteen hundred dollars for me. the old gentleman insisted it was too much, as times were very hard. freeman, however, declared that i was sound and healthy, of a good constitution, and intelligent. he made it a point to enlarge upon my musical attainments. the old gentleman argued quite adroitly that there was nothing extraordinary about the nigger, and finally, to my regret, went out, saying he would call again. during the day, however, a number of sales were made. david and caroline were purchased together by a natchez planter. they left us, grinning broadly, and in the most happy state of mind, caused by the fact of their not being separated. lethe was sold to a planter of baton rouge, her eyes flashing with anger as she was led away. the same man also purchased randall. the little fellow was made to jump, and run across the floor, and perform many other feats, exhibiting his activity and condition. all the time the trade was going on, eliza was crying aloud, and wringing her hands. she besought the man not to buy him, unless he also bought herself and emily. she promised, in that case, to be the most faithful slave that ever lived. the man answered that he could not afford it, and then eliza burst into a paroxysm of grief, weeping plaintively. freeman turned round to her, savagely, with his whip in his uplifted hand, ordering her to stop her noise, or he would flog her. he would not have such work--such snivelling; and unless she ceased that minute, he would take her to the yard and give her a hundred lashes. yes, he would take the nonsense out of her pretty quick--if he didn't, might he be d--d. eliza shrunk before him, and tried to wipe away her tears, but it was all in vain. she wanted to be with her children, she said, the little time she had to live. all the frowns and threats of freeman, could not wholly silence the afflicted mother. she kept on begging and beseeching them, most piteously, not to separate the three. over and over again she told them how she loved her boy. a great many times she repeated her former promises--how very faithful and obedient she would be; how hard she would labor day and night, to the last moment of her life, if he would only buy them all together. but it was of no avail; the man could not afford it. the bargain was agreed upon, and randall must go alone. then eliza ran to him; embraced him passionately; kissed him again and again; told him to remember her--all the while her tears falling in the boy's face like rain. freeman damned her, calling her a blubbering, bawling wench, and ordered her to go to her place, and behave herself, and be somebody. he swore he wouldn't stand such stuff but a little longer. he would soon give her something to cry about, if she was not mighty careful, and _that_ she might depend upon. the planter from baton rouge, with his new purchases, was ready to depart. "don't cry, mama. i will be a good boy. don't cry," said randall, looking back, as they passed out of the door. what has become of the lad, god knows. it was a mournful scene indeed. i would have cried myself if i had dared. that night, nearly all who came in on the brig orleans, were taken ill. they complained of violent pain in the head and back. little emily--a thing unusual with her--cried constantly. in the morning a physician was called in, but was unable to determine the nature of our complaint. while examining me, and asking questions touching my symptoms, i gave it as my opinion that it was an attack of small-pox--mentioning the fact of robert's death as the reason of my belief. it might be so indeed, he thought, and he would send for the head physician of the hospital. shortly, the head physician came--a small, light-haired man, whom they called dr. carr. he pronounced it small-pox, whereupon there was much alarm throughout the yard. soon after dr. carr left, eliza, emmy, harry and myself were put into a hack and driven to the hospital--a large white marble building, standing on the outskirts of the city. harry and i were placed in a room in one of the upper stories. i became very sick. for three days i was entirely blind. while lying in this state one day, bob came in, saying to dr. carr that freeman had sent him over to inquire how we were getting on. tell him, said the doctor, that platt is very bad, but that if he survives until nine o'clock, he may recover. i expected to die. though there was little in the prospect before me worth living for, the near approach of death appalled me. i thought i could have been resigned to yield up my life in the bosom of my family, but to expire in the midst of strangers, under such circumstances, was a bitter reflection. there were a great number in the hospital, of both sexes, and of all ages. in the rear of the building coffins were manufactured. when one died, the bell tolled--a signal to the undertaker to come and bear away the body to the potter's field. many times, each day and night, the tolling bell sent forth its melancholy voice, announcing another death. but my time had not yet come. the crisis having passed, i began to revive, and at the end of two weeks and two days, returned with harry to the pen, bearing upon my face the effects of the malady, which to this day continues to disfigure it. eliza and emily were also brought back next day in a hack, and again were we paraded in the sales-room, for the inspection and examination of purchasers. i still indulged the hope that the old gentleman in search of a coachman would call again, as he had promised, and purchase me. in that event i felt an abiding confidence that i would soon regain my liberty. customer after customer entered, but the old gentleman never made his appearance. at length, one day, while we were in the yard, freeman came out and ordered us to our places, in the great room. a gentleman was waiting for us as we entered, and inasmuch as he will be often mentioned in the progress of this narrative, a description of his personal appearance, and my estimation of his character, at first sight, may not be out of place. he was a man above the ordinary height, somewhat bent and stooping forward. he was a good-looking man, and appeared to have reached about the middle age of life. there was nothing repulsive in his presence; but on the other hand, there was something cheerful and attractive in his face, and in his tone of voice. the finer elements were all kindly mingled in his breast, as any one could see. he moved about among us, asking many questions, as to what we could do, and what labor we had been accustomed to; if we thought we would like to live with him, and would be good boys if he would buy us, and other interrogatories of like character. after some further inspection, and conversation touching prices, he finally offered freeman one thousand dollars for me, nine hundred for harry, and seven hundred for eliza. whether the small-pox had depreciated our value, or from what cause freeman had concluded to fall five hundred dollars from the price i was before held at, i cannot say. at any rate, after a little shrewd reflection, he announced his acceptance of the offer. as soon as eliza heard it, she was in an agony again. by this time she had become haggard and hollow-eyed with sickness and with sorrow. it would be a relief if i could consistently pass over in silence the scene that now ensued. it recalls memories more mournful and affecting than any language can portray. i have seen mothers kissing for the last time the faces of their dead offspring; i have seen them looking down into the grave, as the earth fell with a dull sound upon their coffins, hiding them from their eyes forever; but never have i seen such an exhibition of intense, unmeasured, and unbounded grief, as when eliza was parted from her child. she broke from her place in the line of women, and rushing down where emily was standing, caught her in her arms. the child, sensible of some impending danger, instinctively fastened her hands around her mother's neck, and nestled her little head upon her bosom. freeman sternly ordered her to be quiet, but she did not heed him. he caught her by the arm and pulled her rudely, but she only clung the closer to the child. then, with a volley of great oaths, he struck her such a heartless blow, that she staggered backward, and was like to fall. oh! how piteously then did she beseech and beg and pray that they might not be separated. why could they not be purchased together? why not let her have one of her dear children? "mercy, mercy, master!" she cried, falling on her knees. "please, master, buy emily. i can never work any if she is taken from me: i will die." freeman interfered again, but, disregarding him, she still plead most earnestly, telling how randall had been taken from her--how she never would see him again, and now it was too bad--oh, god! it was too bad, too cruel, to take her away from emily--her pride--her only darling, that could not live, it was so young, without its mother! finally, after much more of supplication, the purchaser of eliza stepped forward, evidently affected, and said to freeman he would buy emily, and asked him what her price was. "what is her _price_? _buy_ her?" was the responsive interrogatory of theophilus freeman. and instantly answering his own inquiry, he added, "i won't sell her. she's not for sale." the man remarked he was not in need of one so young--that it would be of no profit to him, but since the mother was so fond of her, rather than see them separated, he would pay a reasonable price. but to this humane proposal freeman was entirely deaf. he would not sell her then on any account whatever. there were heaps and piles of money to be made of her, he said, when she was a few years older. there were men enough in new-orleans who would give five thousand dollars for such an extra, handsome, fancy piece as emily would be, rather than not get her. no, no, he would not sell her then. she was a beauty--a picture--a doll--one of the regular bloods--none of your thick-lipped, bullet-headed, cotton-picking niggers--if she was might he be d--d. when eliza heard freeman's determination not to part with emily, she became absolutely frantic. "i will _not_ go without her. they shall _not_ take her from me," she fairly shrieked, her shrieks commingling with the loud and angry voice of freeman, commanding her to be silent. meantime harry and myself had been to the yard and returned with our blankets, and were at the front door ready to leave. our purchaser stood near us, gazing at eliza with an expression indicative of regret at having bought her at the expense of so much sorrow. we waited some time, when, finally, freeman, out of patience, tore emily from her mother by main force, the two clinging to each other with all their might. "don't leave me, mama--don't leave me," screamed the child, as its mother was pushed harshly forward; "don't leave me--come back, mama," she still cried, stretching forth her little arms imploringly. but she cried in vain. out of the door and into the street we were quickly hurried. still we could hear her calling to her mother, "come back--don't leave me--come back, mama," until her infant voice grew faint and still more faint, and gradually died away, as distance intervened, and finally was wholly lost. eliza never after saw or heard of emily or randall. day nor night, however, were they ever absent from her memory. in the cotton field, in the cabin, always and everywhere, she was talking of them--often _to_ them, as if they were actually present. only when absorbed in that illusion, or asleep, did she ever have a moment's comfort afterwards. she was no common slave, as has been said. to a large share of natural intelligence which she possessed, was added a general knowledge and information on most subjects. she had enjoyed opportunities such as are afforded to very few of her oppressed class. she had been lifted up into the regions of a higher life. freedom--freedom for herself and for her offspring, for many years had been her cloud by day, her pillar of fire by night. in her pilgrimage through the wilderness of bondage, with eyes fixed upon that hope-inspiring beacon, she had at length ascended to "the top of pisgah," and beheld "the land of promise." in an unexpected moment she was utterly overwhelmed with disappointment and despair. the glorious vision of liberty faded from her sight as they led her away into captivity. now "she weepeth sore in the night, and tears are on her cheeks: all her friends have dealt treacherously with her: they have become her enemies." [illustration: seperation of eliza and her last child.] chapter vii. the steamboat rodolph--departure from new-orleans--william ford--arrival at alexandria, on red river--resolutions--the great pine woods--wild cattle--martin's summer residence--the texas road--arrival at master ford's--rose--mistress ford--sally, and her children--john, the cook--walter, sam, and antony--the mills on indian creek--sabbath days--sam's conversion--the profit of kindness--rafting--adam taydem, the little white man--cascalla and his tribe--the indian ball--john m. tibeats--the storm approaching. on leaving the new-orleans slave pen, harry and i followed our new master through the streets, while eliza, crying and turning back, was forced along by freeman and his minions, until we found ourselves on board the steamboat rodolph, then lying at the levee. in the course of half an hour we were moving briskly up the mississippi, bound for some point on red river. there were quite a number of slaves on board beside ourselves, just purchased in the new-orleans market. i remember a mr. kelsow, who was said to be a well known and extensive planter, had in charge a gang of women. our master's name was william ford. he resided then in the "great pine woods," in the parish of avoyelles, situated on the right bank of red river, in the heart of louisiana. he is now a baptist preacher. throughout the whole parish of avoyelles, and especially along both shores of bayou boeuf, where he is more intimately known, he is accounted by his fellow-citizens as a worthy minister of god. in many northern minds, perhaps, the idea of a man holding his brother man in servitude, and the traffic in human flesh, may seem altogether incompatible with their conceptions of a moral or religious life. from descriptions of such men as burch and freeman, and others hereinafter mentioned, they are led to despise and execrate the whole class of slaveholders, indiscriminately. but i was sometime his slave, and had an opportunity of learning well his character and disposition, and it is but simple justice to him when i say, in my opinion, there never was a more kind, noble, candid, christian man than william ford. the influences and associations that had always surrounded him, blinded him to the inherent wrong at the bottom of the system of slavery. he never doubted the moral right of one man holding another in subjection. looking through the same medium with his fathers before him, he saw things in the same light. brought up under other circumstances and other influences, his notions would undoubtedly have been different. nevertheless, he was a model master, walking uprightly, according to the light of his understanding, and fortunate was the slave who came to his possession. were all men such as he, slavery would be deprived of more than half its bitterness. we were two days and three nights on board the steamboat rodolph, during which time nothing of particular interest occurred. i was now known as platt, the name given me by burch, and by which i was designated through the whole period of my servitude. eliza was sold by the name of "dradey." she was so distinguished in the conveyance to ford, now on record in the recorder's office in new-orleans. on our passage i was constantly reflecting on my situation, and consulting with myself on the best course to pursue in order to effect my ultimate escape. sometimes, not only then, but afterwards, i was almost on the point of disclosing fully to ford the facts of my history. i am inclined now to the opinion it would have resulted in my benefit. this course was often considered, but through fear of its miscarriage, never put into execution, until eventually my transfer and his pecuniary embarrassments rendered it evidently unsafe. afterwards, under other masters, unlike william ford, i knew well enough the slightest knowledge of my real character would consign me at once to the remoter depths of slavery. i was too costly a chattel to be lost, and was well aware that i would be taken farther on, into some by-place, over the texan border, perhaps, and sold; that i would be disposed of as the thief disposes of his stolen horse, if my right to freedom was even whispered. so i resolved to lock the secret closely in my heart--never to utter one word or syllable as to who or what i was--trusting in providence and my own shrewdness for deliverance. at length we left the steamboat rodolph at a place called alexandria, several hundred miles from new-orleans. it is a small town on the southern shore of red river. having remained there over night, we entered the morning train of cars, and were soon at bayou lamourie, a still smaller place, distant eighteen miles from alexandria. at that time it was the termination of the railroad. ford's plantation was situated on the texas road, twelve miles from lamourie, in the great pine woods. this distance, it was announced to us, must be traveled on foot, there being public conveyances no farther. accordingly we all set out in the company of ford. it was an excessively hot day. harry, eliza, and myself were yet weak, and the bottoms of our feet were very tender from the effects of the small-pox. we proceeded slowly, ford telling us to take our time and sit down and rest whenever we desired--a privilege that was taken advantage of quite frequently. after leaving lamourie and crossing two plantations, one belonging to mr. carnell, the other to a mr. flint, we reached the pine woods, a wilderness that stretches to the sabine river. the whole country about red river is low and marshy. the pine woods, as they are called, is comparatively upland, with frequent small intervals, however, running through them. this upland is covered with numerous trees--the white oak, the chincopin, resembling chestnut, but principally the yellow pine. they are of great size, running up sixty feet, and perfectly straight. the woods were full of cattle, very shy and wild, dashing away in herds, with a loud snuff, at our approach. some of them were marked or branded, the rest appeared to be in their wild and untamed state. they are much smaller than northern breeds, and the peculiarity about them that most attracted my attention was their horns. they stand out from the sides of the head precisely straight, like two iron spikes. at noon we reached a cleared piece of ground containing three or four acres. upon it was a small, unpainted, wooden house, a corn crib, or, as we would say, a barn, and a log kitchen, standing about a rod from the house. it was the summer residence of mr. martin. rich planters, having large establishments on bayou boeuf, are accustomed to spend the warmer season in these woods. here they find clear water and delightful shades. in fact, these retreats are to the planters of that section of the country what newport and saratoga are to the wealthier inhabitants of northern cities. we were sent around into the kitchen, and supplied with sweet potatoes, corn-bread, and bacon, while master ford dined with martin in the house. there were several slaves about the premises. martin came out and took a look at us, asking ford the price of each, if we were green hands, and so forth, and making inquiries in relation to the slave market generally. after a long rest we set forth again, following the texas road, which had the appearance of being very rarely traveled. for five miles we passed through continuous woods without observing a single habitation. at length, just as the sun was sinking in the west, we entered another opening, containing some twelve or fifteen acres. in this opening stood a house much larger than mr. martin's. it was two stories high, with a piazza in front. in the rear of it was also a log kitchen, poultry house, corncribs, and several negro cabins. near the house was a peach orchard, and gardens of orange and pomegranate trees. the space was entirely surrounded by woods, and covered with a carpet of rich, rank verdure. it was a quiet, lonely, pleasant place--literally a green spot in the wilderness. it was the residence of my master, william ford. as we approached, a yellow girl--her name was rose--was standing on the piazza. going to the door, she called her mistress, who presently came running out to meet her lord. she kissed him, and laughingly demanded if he had bought "those niggers." ford said he had, and told us to go round to sally's cabin and rest ourselves. turning the corner of the house, we discovered sally washing--her two baby children near her, rolling on the grass. they jumped up and toddled towards us, looked at us a moment like a brace of rabbits, then ran back to their mother as if afraid of us. sally conducted us into the cabin, told us to lay down our bundles and be seated, for she was sure that we were tired. just then john, the cook, a boy some sixteen years of age, and blacker than any crow, came running in, looked steadily in our faces, then turning round, without saying as much as "how d'ye do," ran back to the kitchen, laughing loudly, as if our coming was a great joke indeed. much wearied with our walk, as soon as it was dark, harry and i wrapped our blankets round us, and laid down upon the cabin floor. my thoughts, as usual, wandered back to my wife and children. the consciousness of my real situation; the hopelessness of any effort to escape through the wide forests of avoyelles, pressed heavily upon me, yet my heart was at home in saratoga. i was awakened early in the morning by the voice of master ford, calling rose. she hastened into the house to dress the children, sally to the field to milk the cows, while john was busy in the kitchen preparing breakfast. in the meantime harry and i were strolling about the yard, looking at our new quarters. just after breakfast a colored man, driving three yoke of oxen, attached to a wagon load of lumber, drove into the opening. he was a slave of ford's, named walton, the husband of rose. by the way, rose was a native of washington, and had been brought from thence five years before. she had never seen eliza, but she had heard of berry, and they knew the same streets, and the same people, either personally, or by reputation. they became fast friends immediately, and talked a great deal together of old times, and of friends they had left behind. ford was at that time a wealthy man. besides his seat in the pine woods, he owned a large lumbering establishment on indian creek, four miles distant, and also, in his wife's right, an extensive plantation and many slaves on bayou boeuf. walton had come with his load of lumber from the mills on indian creek. ford directed us to return with him, saying he would follow us as soon as possible. before leaving, mistress ford called me into the store-room, and handed me, as it is there termed, a tin bucket of molasses for harry and myself. eliza was still ringing her hands and deploring the loss of her children. ford tried as much as possible to console her--told her she need not work very hard; that she might remain with rose, and assist the madam in the house affairs. riding with walton in the wagon, harry and i became quite well acquainted with him long before reaching indian creek. he was a "born thrall" of ford's, and spoke kindly and affectionately of him, as a child would speak of his own father. in answer to his inquiries from whence i came, i told him from washington. of that city, he had heard much from his wife, rose, and all the way plied me with many extravagant and absurd questions. on reaching the mills at indian creek, we found two more of ford's slaves, sam and antony. sam, also, was a washingtonian, having been brought out in the same gang with rose. he had worked on a farm near georgetown. antony was a blacksmith, from kentucky, who had been in his present master's service about ten years. sam knew burch, and when informed that he was the trader who had sent me on from washington, it was remarkable how well we agreed upon the subject of his superlative rascality. he had forwarded sam, also. on ford's arrival at the mill, we were employed in piling lumber, and chopping logs, which occupation we continued during the remainder of the summer. we usually spent our sabbaths at the opening, on which days our master would gather all his slaves about him, and read and expound the scriptures. he sought to inculcate in our minds feelings of kindness towards each other, of dependence upon god--setting forth the rewards promised unto those who lead an upright and prayerful life. seated in the doorway of his house, surrounded by his man-servants and his maid-servants, who looked earnestly into the good man's face, he spoke of the loving kindness of the creator, and of the life that is to come. often did the voice of prayer ascend from his lips to heaven, the only sound that broke the solitude of the place. in the course of the summer sam became deeply convicted, his mind dwelling intensely on the subject of religion. his mistress gave him a bible, which he carried with him to his work. whatever leisure time was allowed him, he spent in perusing it, though it was only with great difficulty that he could master any part of it. i often read to him, a favor which he well repaid me by many expressions of gratitude. sam's piety was frequently observed by white men who came to the mill, and the remark it most generally provoked was, that a man like ford, who allowed his slaves to have bibles, was "not fit to own a nigger." he, however, lost nothing by his kindness. it is a fact i have more than once observed, that those who treated their slaves most leniently, were rewarded by the greatest amount of labor. i know it from my own experience. it was a source of pleasure to surprise master ford with a greater day's work than was required, while, under subsequent masters, there was no prompter to extra effort but the overseer's lash. it was the desire of ford's approving voice that suggested to me an idea that resulted to his profit. the lumber we were manufacturing was contracted to be delivered at lamourie. it had hitherto been transported by land, and was an important item of expense. indian creek, upon which the mills were situated, was a narrow but deep stream emptying into bayou boeuf. in some places it was not more than twelve feet wide, and much obstructed with trunks of trees. bayou boeuf was connected with bayou lamourie. i ascertained the distance from the mills to the point on the latter bayou, where our lumber was to be delivered, was but a few miles less by land than by water. provided the creek could be made navigable for rafts, it occurred to me that the expense of transportation would be materially diminished. adam taydem, a little white man, who had been a soldier in florida, and had strolled into that distant region, was foreman and superintendent of the mills. he scouted the idea; but ford, when i laid it before him, received it favorably, and permitted me to try the experiment. having removed the obstructions, i made up a narrow raft, consisting of twelve cribs. at this business i think i was quite skillful, not having forgotten my experience years before on the champlain canal. i labored hard, being extremely anxious to succeed, both from a desire to please my master, and to show adam taydem that my scheme was not such a visionary one as he incessantly pronounced it. one hand could manage three cribs. i took charge of the forward three, and commenced poling down the creek. in due time we entered the first bayou, and finally reached our destination in a shorter period of time than i had anticipated. the arrival of the raft at lamourie created a sensation, while mr. ford loaded me with commendations. on all sides i heard ford's platt pronounced the "smartest nigger in the pine woods"--in fact i was the fulton of indian creek. i was not insensible to the praise bestowed upon me, and enjoyed, especially, my triumph over taydem, whose half-malicious ridicule had stung my pride. from this time the entire control of bringing the lumber to lamourie was placed in my hands until the contract was fulfilled. indian creek, in its whole length, flows through a magnificent forest. there dwells on its shore a tribe of indians, a remnant of the chickasaws or chickopees, if i remember rightly. they live in simple huts, ten or twelve feet square, constructed of pine poles and covered with bark. they subsist principally on the flesh of the deer, the coon, and opossum, all of which are plenty in these woods. sometimes they exchange venison for a little corn and whisky with the planters on the bayous. their usual dress is buckskin breeches and calico hunting shirts of fantastic colors, buttoned from belt to chin. they wear brass rings on their wrists, and in their ears and noses. the dress of the squaws is very similar. they are fond of dogs and horses--owning many of the latter, of a small, tough breed--and are skillful riders. their bridles, girths and saddles were made of raw skins of animals; their stirrups of a certain kind of wood. mounted astride their ponies, men and women, i have seen them dash out into the woods at the utmost of their speed, following narrow winding paths, and dodging trees, in a manner that eclipsed the most miraculous feats of civilized equestrianism. circling away in various directions, the forest echoing and re-echoing with their whoops, they would presently return at the same dashing, headlong speed with which they started. their village was on indian creek, known as indian castle, but their range extended to the sabine river. occasionally a tribe from texas would come over on a visit, and then there was indeed a carnival in the "great pine woods." chief of the tribe was cascalla; second in rank, john baltese, his son-in-law; with both of whom, as with many others of the tribe, i became acquainted during my frequent voyages down the creek with rafts. sam and myself would often visit them when the day's task was done. they were obedient to the chief; the word of cascalla was their law. they were a rude but harmless people, and enjoyed their wild mode of life. they had little fancy for the open country, the cleared lands on the shores of the bayous, but preferred to hide themselves within the shadows of the forest. they worshiped the great spirit, loved whisky, and were happy. on one occasion i was present at a dance, when a roving herd from texas had encamped in their village. the entire carcass of a deer was roasting before a large fire, which threw its light a long distance among the trees under which they were assembled. when they had formed in a ring, men and squaws alternately, a sort of indian fiddle set up an indescribable tune. it was a continuous, melancholy kind of wavy sound, with the slightest possible variation. at the first note, if indeed there was more than one note in the whole tune, they circled around, trotting after each other, and giving utterance to a guttural, sing-song noise, equally as nondescript as the music of the fiddle. at the end of the third circuit, they would stop suddenly, whoop as if their lungs would crack, then break from the ring, forming in couples, man and squaw, each jumping backwards as far as possible from the other, then forwards--which graceful feat having been twice or thrice accomplished, they would form in a ring, and go trotting round again. the best dancer appeared to be considered the one who could whoop the loudest, jump the farthest, and utter the most excruciating noise. at intervals, one or more would leave the dancing circle, and going to the fire, cut from the roasting carcass a slice of venison. in a hole, shaped like a mortar, cut in the trunk of a fallen tree, they pounded corn with a wooden pestle, and of the meal made cake. alternately they danced and ate. thus were the visitors from texas entertained by the dusky sons and daughters of the chicopees, and such is a description, as i saw it, of an indian ball in the pine woods of avoyelles. in the autumn, i left the mills, and was employed at the opening. one day the mistress was urging ford to procure a loom, in order that sally might commence weaving cloth for the winter garments of the slaves. he could not imagine where one was to be found, when i suggested that the easiest way to get one would be to make it, informing him at the same time, that i was a sort of "jack at all trades," and would attempt it, with his permission. it was granted very readily, and i was allowed to go to a neighboring planter's to inspect one before commencing the undertaking. at length it was finished and pronounced by sally to be perfect. she could easily weave her task of fourteen yards, milk the cows, and have leisure time besides each day. it worked so well, i was continued in the employment of making looms, which were taken down to the plantation on the bayou. at this time one john m. tibeats, a carpenter, came to the opening to do some work on master's house. i was directed to quit the looms and assist him. for two weeks i was in his company, planning and matching boards for ceiling, a plastered room being a rare thing in the parish of avoyelles. john m. tibeats was the opposite of ford in all respects. he was a small, crabbed, quick-tempered, spiteful man. he had no fixed residence that i ever heard of, but passed from one plantation to another, wherever he could find employment. he was without standing in the community, not esteemed by white men, nor even respected by slaves. he was ignorant, withal, and of a revengeful disposition. he left the parish long before i did, and i know not whether he is at present alive or dead. certain it is, it was a most unlucky day for me that brought us together. during my residence with master ford i had seen only the bright side of slavery. his was no heavy hand crushing us to the earth. _he_ pointed upwards, and with benign and cheering words addressed us as his fellow-mortals, accountable, like himself, to the maker of us all. i think of him with affection, and had my family been with me, could have borne his gentle servitude, without murmuring, all my days. but clouds were gathering in the horizon--forerunners of a pitiless storm that was soon to break over me. i was doomed to endure such bitter trials as the poor slave only knows, and to lead no more the comparatively happy life which i had led in the "great pine woods." chapter viii. ford's embarrassments--the sale to tibeats--the chattel mortgage--mistress ford's plantation on bayou boeuf--description of the latter--ford's brother-in-law, peter tanner--meeting with eliza--she still mourns for her children--ford's overseer, chapin--tibeat's abuse--the keg of nails--the first fight with tibeats--his discomfiture and castigation--the attempt to hang me--chapin's interference and speech--unhappy reflections--abrupt departure of tibeats, cook and ramsay--lawson and the brown mule--message to the pine woods. william ford unfortunately became embarrassed in his pecuniary affairs. a heavy judgment was rendered against him in consequence of his having become security for his brother, franklin ford, residing on red river, above alexandria, and who had failed to meet his liabilities. he was also indebted to john m. tibeats to a considerable amount in consideration of his services in building the mills on indian creek, and also a weaving-house, corn-mill and other erections on the plantation at bayou boeuf, not yet completed. it was therefore necessary, in order to meet these demands, to dispose of eighteen slaves, myself among the number. seventeen of them, including sam and harry, were purchased by peter compton, a planter also residing on red river. i was sold to tibeats, in consequence, undoubtedly, of my slight skill as a carpenter. this was in the winter of 1842. the deed of myself from freeman to ford, as i ascertained from the public records in new-orleans on my return, was dated june 23d, 1841. at the time of my sale to tibeats, the price agreed to be given for me being more than the debt, ford took a chattel mortgage of four hundred dollars. i am indebted for my life, as will hereafter be seen, to that mortgage. i bade farewell to my good friends at the opening, and departed with my new master tibeats. we went down to the plantation on bayou boeuf, distant twenty-seven miles from the pine woods, to complete the unfinished contract. bayou boeuf is a sluggish, winding stream--one of those stagnant bodies of water common in that region, setting back from red river. it stretches from a point not far from alexandria, in a south-easterly direction, and following its tortuous course, is more than fifty miles in length. large cotton and sugar plantations line each shore, extending back to the borders of interminable swamps. it is alive with alligators, rendering it unsafe for swine, or unthinking slave children to stroll along its banks. upon a bend in this bayou, a short distance from cheneyville, was situated the plantation of madam ford--her brother, peter tanner, a great landholder, living on the opposite side. on my arrival at bayou boeuf, i had the pleasure of meeting eliza, whom i had not seen for several months. she had not pleased mrs. ford, being more occupied in brooding over her sorrows than in attending to her business, and had, in consequence, been sent down to work in the field on the plantation. she had grown feeble and emaciated, and was still mourning for her children. she asked me if i had forgotten them, and a great many times inquired if i still remembered how handsome little emily was--how much randall loved her--and wondered if they were living still, and where the darlings could then be. she had sunk beneath the weight of an excessive grief. her drooping form and hollow cheeks too plainly indicated that she had well nigh reached the end of her weary road. ford's overseer on this plantation, and who had the exclusive charge of it, was a mr. chapin, a kindly-disposed man, and a native of pennsylvania. in common with others, he held tibeats in light estimation, which fact, in connection with the four hundred dollar mortgage, was fortunate for me. i was now compelled to labor very hard. from earliest dawn until late at night, i was not allowed to be a moment idle. notwithstanding which, tibeats was never satisfied. he was continually cursing and complaining. he never spoke to me a kind word. i was his faithful slave, and earned him large wages every day, and yet i went to my cabin nightly, loaded with abuse and stinging epithets. we had completed the corn mill, the kitchen, and so forth, and were at work upon the weaving-house, when i was guilty of an act, in that state punishable with death. it was my first fight with tibeats. the weaving-house we were erecting stood in the orchard a few rods from the residence of chapin, or the "great house," as it was called. one night, having worked until it was too dark to see, i was ordered by tibeats to rise very early in the morning, procure a keg of nails from chapin, and commence putting on the clapboards. i retired to the cabin extremely tired, and having cooked a supper of bacon and corn cake, and conversed a while with eliza, who occupied the same cabin, as also did lawson and his wife mary, and a slave named bristol, laid down upon the ground floor, little dreaming of the sufferings that awaited me on the morrow. before daylight i was on the piazza of the "great house," awaiting the appearance of overseer chapin. to have aroused him from his slumbers and stated my errand, would have been an unpardonable boldness. at length he came out. taking off my hat, i informed him master tibeats had directed me to call upon him for a keg of nails. going into the store-room, he rolled it out, at the same time saying, if tibeats preferred a different size, he would endeavor to furnish them, but that i might use those until further directed. then mounting his horse, which stood saddled and bridled at the door, he rode away into the field, whither the slaves had preceded him, while i took the keg on my shoulder, and proceeding to the weaving-house, broke in the head, and commenced nailing on the clapboards. as the day began to open, tibeats came out of the house to where i was, hard at work. he seemed to be that morning even more morose and disagreeable than usual. he was my master, entitled by law to my flesh and blood, and to exercise over me such tyrannical control as his mean nature prompted; but there was no law that could prevent my looking upon him with intense contempt. i despised both his disposition and his intellect. i had just come round to the keg for a further supply of nails, as he reached the weaving-house. "i thought i told you to commence putting on weather-boards this morning," he remarked. "yes, master, and i am about it," i replied. "where?" he demanded. "on the other side," was my answer. he walked round to the other side, examined my work for a while, muttering to himself in a fault-finding tone. "didn't i tell you last night to get a keg of nails of chapin?" he broke forth again. "yes, master, and so i did; and overseer said he would get another size for you, if you wanted them, when he came back from the field." tibeats walked to the keg, looked a moment at the contents, then kicked it violently. coming towards me in a great passion, he exclaimed, "g--d d--n you! i thought you _knowed_ something." i made answer: "i tried to do as you told me, master. i didn't mean anything wrong. overseer said--" but he interrupted me with such a flood of curses that i was unable to finish the sentence. at length he ran towards the house, and going to the piazza, took down one of the overseer's whips. the whip had a short wooden stock, braided over with leather, and was loaded at the butt. the lash was three feet long, or thereabouts, and made of raw-hide strands. at first i was somewhat frightened, and my impulse was to run. there was no one about except rachel, the cook, and chapin's wife, and neither of them were to be seen. the rest were in the field. i knew he intended to whip me, and it was the first time any one had attempted it since my arrival at avoyelles. i felt, moreover, that i had been faithful--that i was guilty of no wrong whatever, and deserved commendation rather than punishment. my fear changed to anger, and before he reached me i had made up my mind fully not to be whipped, let the result be life or death. winding the lash around his hand, and taking hold of the small end of the stock, he walked up to me, and with a malignant look, ordered me to strip. "master tibeats" said i, looking him boldly in the face, "i will _not_." i was about to say something further in justification, but with concentrated vengeance, he sprang upon me, seizing me by the throat with one hand, raising the whip with the other, in the act of striking. before the blow descended, however, i had caught him by the collar of the coat, and drawn him closely to me. reaching down, i seized him by the ankle, and pushing him back with the other hand, he fell over on the ground. putting one arm around his leg, and holding it to my breast, so that his head and shoulders only touched the ground, i placed my foot upon his neck. he was completely in my power. my blood was up. it seemed to course through my veins like fire. in the frenzy of my madness i snatched the whip from his hand. he struggled with all his power; swore that i should not live to see another day; and that he would tear out my heart. but his struggles and his threats were alike in vain. i cannot tell how many times i struck him. blow after blow fell fast and heavy upon his wriggling form. at length he screamed--cried murder--and at last the blasphemous tyrant called on god for mercy. but he who had never shown mercy did not receive it. the stiff stock of the whip warped round his cringing body until my right arm ached. until this time i had been too busy to look about me. desisting for a moment, i saw mrs. chapin looking from the window, and rachel standing in the kitchen door. their attitudes expressed the utmost excitement and alarm. his screams had been heard in the field. chapin was coming as fast as he could ride. i struck him a blow or two more, then pushed him from me with such a well-directed kick that he went rolling over on the ground. rising to his feet, and brushing the dirt from his hair, he stood looking at me, pale with rage. we gazed at each other in silence. not a word was uttered until chapin galloped up to us. "what is the matter?" he cried out. "master tibeats wants to whip me for using the nails you gave me," i replied. "what is the matter with the nails?" he inquired, turning to tibeats. tibeats answered to the effect that they were too large, paying little heed, however, to chapin's question, but still keeping his snakish eyes fastened maliciously on me. "i am overseer here," chapin began. "i told platt to take them and use them, and if they were not of the proper size i would get others on returning from the field. it is not his fault. besides, i shall furnish such nails as i please. i hope you will understand _that_, mr. tibeats." tibeats made no reply, but, grinding his teeth and shaking his fist, swore he would have satisfaction, and that it was not half over yet. thereupon he walked away, followed by the overseer, and entered the house, the latter talking to him all the while in a suppressed tone, and with earnest gestures. i remained where i was, doubting whether it was better to fly or abide the result, whatever it might be. presently tibeats came out of the house, and, saddling his horse, the only property he possessed besides myself, departed on the road to cheneyville. when he was gone, chapin came out, visibly excited, telling me not to stir, not to attempt to leave the plantation on any account whatever. he then went to the kitchen, and calling rachel out, conversed with her some time. coming back, he again charged me with great earnestness not to run, saying my master was a rascal; that he had left on no good errand, and that there might be trouble before night. but at all events, he insisted upon it, i must not stir. as i stood there, feelings of unutterable agony overwhelmed me. i was conscious that i had subjected myself to unimaginable punishment. the reaction that followed my extreme ebullition of anger produced the most painful sensations of regret. an unfriended, helpless slave--what could i _do_, what could i _say_, to justify, in the remotest manner, the heinous act i had committed, of resenting a _white_ man's contumely and abuse. i tried to pray--i tried to beseech my heavenly father to sustain me in my sore extremity, but emotion choked my utterance, and i could only bow my head upon my hands and weep. for at least an hour i remained in this situation, finding relief only in tears, when, looking up, i beheld tibeats, accompanied by two horsemen, coming down the bayou. they rode into the yard, jumped from their horses, and approached me with large whips, one of them also carrying a coil of rope. "cross your hands," commanded tibeats, with the addition of such a shuddering expression of blasphemy as is not decorous to repeat. "you need not bind me, master tibeats, i am ready to go with you anywhere," said i. one of his companions then stepped forward, swearing if i made the least resistance he would break my head--he would tear me limb from limb--he would cut my black throat--and giving wide scope to other similar expressions. perceiving any importunity altogether vain, i crossed my hands, submitting humbly to whatever disposition they might please to make of me. thereupon tibeats tied my wrists, drawing the rope around them with his utmost strength. then he bound my ankles in the same manner. in the meantime the other two had slipped a cord within my elbows, running it across my back, and tying it firmly. it was utterly impossible to move hand or foot. with a remaining piece of rope tibeats made an awkward noose, and placed it about my neck. "now, then," inquired one of tibeats' companions, "where shall we hang the nigger?" one proposed such a limb, extending from the body of a peach tree, near the spot where we were standing. his comrade objected to it, alleging it would break, and proposed another. finally they fixed upon the latter. during this conversation, and all the time they were binding me, i uttered not a word. overseer chapin, during the progress of the scene, was walking hastily back and forth on the piazza. rachel was crying by the kitchen door, and mrs. chapin was still looking from the window. hope died within my heart. surely my time had come. i should never behold the light of another day--never behold the faces of my children--the sweet anticipation i had cherished with such fondness. i should that hour struggle through the fearful agonies of death! none would mourn for me--none revenge me. soon my form would be mouldering in that distant soil, or, perhaps, be cast to the slimy reptiles that filled the stagnant waters of the bayou! tears flowed down my cheeks, but they only afforded a subject of insulting comment for my executioners. [illustration: chapin rescues solomon from hanging.] at length, as they were dragging me towards the tree, chapin, who had momentarily disappeared from the piazza, came out of the house and walked towards us. he had a pistol in each hand, and as near as i can now recall to mind, spoke in a firm, determined manner, as follows: "gentlemen, i have a few words to say. you had better listen to them. whoever moves that slave another foot from where he stands is a dead man. in the first place, he does not deserve this treatment. it is a shame to murder him in this manner. i never knew a more faithful boy than platt. you, tibeats, are in the fault yourself. you are pretty much of a scoundrel, and i know it, and you richly deserve the flogging you have received. in the next place, i have been overseer on this plantation seven years, and, in the absence of william ford, am master here. my duty is to protect his interests, and that duty i shall perform. you are not responsible--you are a worthless fellow. ford holds a mortgage on platt of four hundred dollars. if you hang him he loses his debt. until that is canceled you have no right to take his life. you have no right to take it any way. there is a law for the slave as well as for the white man. you are no better than a murderer. "as for you," addressing cook and ramsay, a couple of overseers from neighboring plantations, "as for you--begone! if you have any regard for your own safety, i say, begone." cook and ramsay, without a further word, mounted their horses and rode away. tibeats, in a few minutes, evidently in fear, and overawed by the decided tone of chapin, sneaked off like a coward, as he was, and mounting his horse, followed his companions. i remained standing where i was, still bound, with the rope around my neck. as soon as they were gone, chapin called rachel, ordering her to run to the field, and tell lawson to hurry to the house without delay, and bring the brown mule with him, an animal much prized for its unusual fleetness. presently the boy appeared. "lawson," said chapin, "you must go to the pine woods. tell your master ford to come here at once--that he must not delay a single moment. tell him they are trying to murder platt. now hurry, boy. be at the pine woods by noon if you kill the mule." chapin stepped into the house and wrote a pass. when he returned, lawson was at the door, mounted on his mule. receiving the pass, he plied the whip right smartly to the beast, dashed out of the yard, and turning up the bayou on a hard gallop, in less time than it has taken me to describe the scene, was out of sight. chapter ix. the hot sun--yet bound--the cords sink into my flesh--chapin's uneasiness--speculation--rachel, and her cup of water--suffering increases--the happiness of slavery--arrival of ford--he cuts the cords which bind me, and takes the rope from my neck--misery--the gathering of the slaves in eliza's cabin--their kindness--rachel repeats the occurrences of the day--lawson entertains his companions with an account of his ride--chapin's apprehensions of tibeats--hired to peter tanner--peter expounds the scriptures--description of the stocks. as the sun approached the meridian that day it became insufferably warm. its hot rays scorched the ground. the earth almost blistered the foot that stood upon it. i was without coat or hat, standing bare-headed, exposed to its burning blaze. great drops of perspiration rolled down my face, drenching the scanty apparel wherewith i was clothed. over the fence, a very little way off, the peach trees cast their cool, delicious shadows on the grass. i would gladly have given a long year of service to have been enabled to exchange the heated oven, as it were, wherein i stood, for a seat beneath their branches. but i was yet bound, the rope still dangling from my neck, and standing in the same tracks where tibeats and his comrades left me. i could not move an inch, so firmly had i been bound. to have been enabled to lean against the weaving house would have been a luxury indeed. but it was far beyond my reach, though distant less than twenty feet. i wanted to lie down, but knew i could not rise again. the ground was so parched and boiling hot i was aware it would but add to the discomfort of my situation. if i could have only moved my position, however slightly, it would have been relief unspeakable. but the hot rays of a southern sun, beating all the long summer day on my bare head, produced not half the suffering i experienced from my aching limbs. my wrists and ankles, and the cords of my legs and arms began to swell, burying the rope that bound them into the swollen flesh. all day chapin walked back and forth upon the stoop, but not once approached me. he appeared to be in a state of great uneasiness, looking first towards me, and then up the road, as if expecting some arrival every moment. he did not go to the field, as was his custom. it was evident from his manner that he supposed tibeats would return with more and better armed assistance, perhaps, to renew the quarrel, and it was equally evident he had prepared his mind to defend my life at whatever hazard. why he did not relieve me--why he suffered me to remain in agony the whole weary day, i never knew. it was not for want of sympathy, i am certain. perhaps he wished ford to see the rope about my neck, and the brutal manner in which i had been bound; perhaps his interference with another's property in which he had no legal interest might have been a trespass, which would have subjected him to the penalty of the law. why tibeats was all day absent was another mystery i never could divine. he knew well enough that chapin would not harm him unless he persisted in his design against me. lawson told me afterwards, that, as he passed the plantation of john david cheney, he saw the three, and that they turned and looked after him as he flew by. i think his supposition was, that lawson had been sent out by overseer chapin to arouse the neighboring planters, and to call on them to come to his assistance. he, therefore, undoubtedly, acted on the principle, that "discretion is the better part of valor," and kept away. but whatever motive may have governed the cowardly and malignant tyrant, it is of no importance. there i still stood in the noon-tide sun, groaning with pain. from long before daylight i had not eaten a morsel. i was growing faint from pain, and thirst, and hunger. once only, in the very hottest portion of the day, rachel, half fearful she was acting contrary to the overseer's wishes, ventured to me, and held a cup of water to my lips. the humble creature never knew, nor could she comprehend if she had heard them, the blessings i invoked upon her, for that balmy draught. she could only say, "oh, platt, how i do pity you," and then hastened back to her labors in the kitchen. never did the sun move so slowly through the heavens--never did it shower down such fervent and fiery rays, as it did that day. at least, so it appeared to me. what my meditations were--the innumerable thoughts that thronged through my distracted brain--i will not attempt to give expression to. suffice it to say, during the whole long day i came not to the conclusion, even once, that the southern slave, fed, clothed, whipped and protected by his master, is happier than the free colored citizen of the north. to that conclusion i have never since arrived. there are many, however, even in the northern states, benevolent and well-disposed men, who will pronounce my opinion erroneous, and gravely proceed to substantiate the assertion with an argument. alas! they have never drunk, as i have, from the bitter cup of slavery. just at sunset my heart leaped with unbounded joy, as ford came riding into the yard, his horse covered with foam. chapin met him at the door, and after conversing a short time, he walked directly to me. "poor platt, you are in a bad state," was the only expression that escaped his lips. "thank god!" said i, "thank god, master ford, that you have come at last." drawing a knife from his pocket, he indignantly cut the cord from my wrists, arms, and ankles, and slipped the noose from my neck. i attempted to walk, but staggered like a drunken man, and fell partially to the ground. ford returned immediately to the house, leaving me alone again. as he reached the piazza, tibeats and his two friends rode up. a long dialogue followed. i could hear the sound of their voices, the mild tones of ford mingling with the angry accents of tibeats, but was unable to distinguish what was said. finally the three departed again, apparently not well pleased. i endeavored to raise the hammer, thinking to show ford how willing i was to work, by proceeding with my labors on the weaving house, but it fell from my nerveless hand. at dark i crawled into the cabin, and laid down. i was in great misery--all sore and swollen--the slightest movement producing excruciating suffering. soon the hands came in from the field. rachel, when she went after lawson, had told them what had happened. eliza and mary broiled me a piece of bacon, but my appetite was gone. then they scorched some corn meal and made coffee. it was all that i could take. eliza consoled me and was very kind. it was not long before the cabin was full of slaves. they gathered round me, asking many questions about the difficulty with tibeats in the morning--and the particulars of all the occurrences of the day. then rachel came in, and in her simple language, repeated it over again--dwelling emphatically on the kick that sent tibeats rolling over on the ground--whereupon there was a general titter throughout the crowd. then she described how chapin walked out with his pistols and rescued me, and how master ford cut the ropes with his knife, just as if he was mad. by this time lawson had returned. he had to regale them with an account of his trip to the pine woods--how the brown mule bore him faster than a "streak o'lightnin"--how he astonished everybody as he flew along--how master ford started right away--how he said platt was a good nigger, and they shouldn't kill him, concluding with pretty strong intimations that there was not another human being in the wide world, who could have created such a universal sensation on the road, or performed such a marvelous john gilpin feat, as he had done that day on the brown mule. the kind creatures loaded me with the expression of their sympathy--saying, tibeats was a hard, cruel man, and hoping "massa ford" would get me back again. in this manner they passed the time, discussing, chatting, talking over and over again the exciting affair, until suddenly chapin presented himself at the cabin door and called me. "platt," said he, "you will sleep on the floor in the great house to-night; bring your blanket with you." i arose as quickly as i was able, took my blanket in my hand, and followed him. on the way he informed me that he should not wonder if tibeats was back again before morning--that he intended to kill me--and that he did not mean he should do it without witnesses. had he stabbed me to the heart in the presence of a hundred slaves, not one of them, by the laws of louisiana, could have given evidence against him. i laid down on the floor in the "great house"--the first and the last time such a sumptuous resting place was granted me during my twelve years of bondage--and tried to sleep. near midnight the dog began to bark. chapin arose, looked from the window, but could discover nothing. at length the dog was quiet. as he returned to his room, he said, "i believe, platt, that scoundrel is skulking about the premises somewhere. if the dog barks again, and i am sleeping, wake me." i promised to do so. after the lapse of an hour or more, the dog re-commenced his clamor, running towards the gate, then back again, all the while barking furiously. chapin was out of bed without waiting to be called. on this occasion, he stepped forth upon the piazza, and remained standing there a considerable length of time. nothing, however, was to be seen, and the dog returned to his kennel. we were not disturbed again during the night. the excessive pain that i suffered, and the dread of some impending danger, prevented any rest whatever. whether or not tibeats did actually return to the plantation that night, seeking an opportunity to wreak his vengeance upon me, is a secret known only to himself, perhaps. i thought then, however, and have the strong impression still, that he was there. at all events, he had the disposition of an assassin--cowering before a brave man's words, but ready to strike his helpless or unsuspecting victim in the back, as i had reason afterwards to know. at daylight in the morning, i arose, sore and weary, having rested little. nevertheless, after partaking breakfast, which mary and eliza had prepared for me in the cabin, i proceeded to the weaving house and commenced the labors of another day. it was chapin's practice, as it is the practice of overseers generally, immediately on arising, to bestride his horse, always saddled and bridled and ready for him--the particular business of some slave--and ride into the field. this morning, on the contrary, he came to the weaving house, asking if i had seen anything of tibeats yet. replying in the negative, he remarked there was something not right about the fellow--there was bad blood in him--that i must keep a sharp watch of him, or he would do me wrong some day when i least expected it. while he was yet speaking, tibeats rode in, hitched his horse, and entered the house. i had little fear of him while ford and chapin were at hand, but they could not be near me always. oh! how heavily the weight of slavery pressed upon me then. i must toil day after day, endure abuse and taunts and scoffs, sleep on the hard ground, live on the coarsest fare, and not only this, but live the slave of a blood-seeking wretch, of whom i must stand henceforth in continued fear and dread. why had i not died in my young years--before god had given me children to love and live for? what unhappiness and suffering and sorrow it would have prevented. i sighed for liberty; but the bondman's chain was round me, and could not be shaken off. i could only gaze wistfully towards the north, and think of the thousands of miles that stretched between me and the soil of freedom, over which a _black_ freeman may not pass. tibeats, in the course of half an hour, walked over to the weaving-house, looked at me sharply, then returned without saying anything. most of the forenoon he sat on the piazza, reading a newspaper and conversing with ford. after dinner, the latter left for the pine woods, and it was indeed with regret that i beheld him depart from the plantation. once more during the day tibeats came to me, gave me some order, and returned. during the week the weaving-house was completed--tibeats in the meantime making no allusion whatever to the difficulty--when i was informed he had hired me to peter tanner, to work under another carpenter by the name of myers. this announcement was received with gratification, as any place was desirable that would relieve me of his hateful presence. peter tanner, as the reader has already been informed, lived on the opposite shore, and was the brother of mistress ford. he is one of the most extensive planters on bayou boeuf, and owns a large number of slaves. over i went to tanner's, joyfully enough. he had heard of my late difficulties--in fact, i ascertained the flogging of tibeats was soon blazoned far and wide. this affair, together with my rafting experiment, had rendered me somewhat notorious. more than once i heard it said that platt ford, now platt tibeats--a slave's name changes with his change of master--was "a devil of a nigger." but i was destined to make a still further noise, as will presently be seen, throughout the little world of bayou boeuf. peter tanner endeavored to impress upon me the idea that he was quite severe, though i could perceive there was a vein of good humor in the old fellow, after all. "you're the nigger," he said to me on my arrival--"you're the nigger that flogged your master, eh? you're the nigger that kicks, and holds carpenter tibeats by the leg, and wallops him, are ye? i'd like to see you hold me by the leg--i should. you're a 'portant character--you're a great nigger--very remarkable nigger, ain't ye? _i'd_ lash you--_i'd_ take the tantrums out of ye. jest take hold of my leg, if you please. none of your pranks here, my boy, remember _that_. now go to work, you _kickin'_ rascal," concluded peter tanner, unable to suppress a half-comical grin at his own wit and sarcasm. after listening to this salutation, i was taken charge of by myers, and labored under his direction for a month, to his and my own satisfaction. like william ford, his brother-in-law, tanner was in the habit of reading the bible to his slaves on the sabbath, but in a somewhat different spirit. he was an impressive commentator on the new testament. the first sunday after my coming to the plantation, he called them together, and began to read the twelfth chapter of luke. when he came to the 47th verse, he looked deliberately around him, and continued--"and that servant which knew his lord's _will_,"--here he paused, looking around more deliberately than before, and again proceeded--"which knew his lord's _will_, and _prepared_ not himself"--here was another pause--"_prepared_ not himself, neither did _according_ to his will, shall be beaten with many _stripes_." "d'ye hear that?" demanded peter, emphatically. "_stripes_," he repeated, slowly and distinctly, taking off his spectacles, preparatory to making a few remarks. "that nigger that don't take care--that don't obey his lord--that's his master--d'ye see?--that _'ere_ nigger shall be beaten with many stripes. now, 'many' signifies a _great_ many--forty, a hundred, a hundred and fifty lashes. _that's_ scripter!" and so peter continued to elucidate the subject for a great length of time, much to the edification of his sable audience. at the conclusion of the exercises, calling up three of his slaves, warner, will and major, he cried out to me-"here, platt, you held tibeats by the legs; now i'll see if you can hold these rascals in the same way, till i get back from meetin'." thereupon he ordered them to the stocks--a common thing on plantations in the red river country. the stocks are formed of two planks, the lower one made fast at the ends to two short posts, driven firmly into the ground. at regular distances half circles are cut in the upper edge. the other plank is fastened to one of the posts by a hinge, so that it can be opened or shut down, in the same manner as the blade of a pocket-knife is shut or opened. in the lower edge of the upper plank corresponding half circles are also cut, so that when they close, a row of holes is formed large enough to admit a negro's leg above the ankle, but not large enough to enable him to draw out his foot. the other end of the upper plank, opposite the hinge, is fastened to its post by lock and key. the slave is made to sit upon the ground, when the uppermost plank is elevated, his legs, just above the ankles, placed in the sub-half circles, and shutting it down again, and locking it, he is held secure and fast. very often the neck instead of the ankle is enclosed. in this manner they are held during the operation of whipping. warner, will and major, according to tanner's account of them, were melon-stealing, sabbath-breaking niggers, and not approving of such wickedness, he felt it his duty to put them in the stocks. handing me the key, himself, myers, mistress tanner and the children entered the carriage and drove away to church at cheneyville. when they were gone, the boys begged me to let them out. i felt sorry to see them sitting on the hot ground, and remembered my own sufferings in the sun. upon their promise to return to the stocks at any moment they were required to do so, i consented to release them. grateful for the lenity shown them, and in order in some measure to repay it, they could do no less, of course, than pilot me to the melon-patch. shortly before tanner's return, they were in the stocks again. finally he drove up, and looking at the boys, said, with a chuckle,-"aha! ye havn't been strolling about much to-day, any way. _i'll_ teach you what's what. _i'll_ tire ye of eating water-melons on the lord's day, ye sabbath-breaking niggers." peter tanner prided himself upon his strict religious observances: he was a deacon in the church. but i have now reached a point in the progress of my narrative, when it becomes necessary to turn away from these light descriptions, to the more grave and weighty matter of the second battle with master tibeats, and the flight through the great pacoudrie swamp. chapter x. return to tibeats--impossibility of pleasing him--he attacks me with a hatchet--the struggle over the broad axe--the temptation to murder him--escape across the plantation--observations from the fence--tibeats approaches, followed by the hounds--they take my track--their loud yells--they almost overtake me--i reach the water--the hounds confused--moccasin snakes--alligators--night in the "great pacoudrie swamp"--the sounds of life--north-west course--emerge into the pine woods--the slave and his young master--arrival at ford's--food and rest. at the end of a month, my services being no longer required at tanner's i was sent over the bayou again to my master, whom i found engaged in building the cotton press. this was situated at some distance from the great house, in a rather retired place. i commenced working once more in company with tibeats, being entirely alone with him most part of the time. i remembered the words of chapin, his precautions, his advice to beware, lest in some unsuspecting moment he might injure me. they were always in my mind, so that i lived in a most uneasy state of apprehension and fear. one eye was on my work, the other on my master. i determined to give him no cause of offence, to work still more diligently, if possible, than i had done, to bear whatever abuse he might heap upon me, save bodily injury, humbly and patiently, hoping thereby to soften in some degree his manner towards me, until the blessed time might come when i should be delivered from his clutches. the third morning after my return, chapin left the plantation for cheneyville, to be absent until night. tibeats, on that morning, was attacked with one of those periodical fits of spleen and ill-humor to which he was frequently subject, rendering him still more disagreeable and venomous than usual. it was about nine o'clock in the forenoon, when i was busily employed with the jack-plane on one of the sweeps. tibeats was standing by the work-bench, fitting a handle into the chisel, with which he had been engaged previously in cutting the thread of the screw. "you are not planing that down enough," said he. "it is just even with the line," i replied. "you're a d--d liar," he exclaimed passionately. "oh, well, master," i said, mildly, "i will plane it down more if you say so," at the same time proceeding to do as i supposed he desired. before one shaving had been removed, however, he cried out, saying i had now planed it too deep--it was too small--i had spoiled the sweep entirely. then followed curses and imprecations. i had endeavored to do exactly as he directed, but nothing would satisfy the unreasonable man. in silence and in dread i stood by the sweep, holding the jack-plane in my hand, not knowing what to do, and not daring to be idle. his anger grew more and more violent, until, finally, with an oath, such a bitter, frightful oath as only tibeats could utter, he seized a hatchet from the work-bench and darted towards me, swearing he would cut my head open. it was a moment of life or death. the sharp, bright blade of the hatchet glittered in the sun. in another instant it would be buried in my brain, and yet in that instant--so quick will a man's thoughts come to him in such a fearful strait--i reasoned with myself. if i stood still, my doom was certain; if i fled, ten chances to one the hatchet, flying from his hand with a too-deadly and unerring aim, would strike me in the back. there was but one course to take. springing towards him with all my power, and meeting him full half-way, before he could bring down the blow, with one hand i caught his uplifted arm, with the other seized him by the throat. we stood looking each other in the eyes. in his i could see murder. i felt as if i had a serpent by the neck, watching the slightest relaxation of my gripe, to coil itself round my body, crushing and stinging it to death. i thought to scream aloud, trusting that some ear might catch the sound--but chapin was away; the hands were in the field; there was no living soul in sight or hearing. the good genius, which thus far through life has saved me from the hands of violence, at that moment suggested a lucky thought. with a vigorous and sudden kick, that brought him on one knee, with a groan, i released my hold upon his throat, snatched the hatchet, and cast it beyond reach. frantic with rage, maddened beyond control, he seized a white oak stick, five feet long, perhaps, and as large in circumference as his hand could grasp, which was lying on the ground. again he rushed towards me, and again i met him, seized him about the waist, and being the stronger of the two, bore him to the earth. while in that position i obtained possession of the stick, and rising, cast it from me, also. he likewise arose and ran for the broad-axe, on the work-bench. fortunately, there was a heavy plank lying upon its broad blade, in such a manner that he could not extricate it, before i had sprung upon his back. pressing him down closely and heavily on the plank, so that the axe was held more firmly to its place, i endeavored, but in vain, to break his grasp upon the handle. in that position we remained some minutes. there have been hours in my unhappy life, many of them, when the contemplation of death as the end of earthly sorrow--of the grave as a resting place for the tired and worn out body--has been pleasant to dwell upon. but such contemplations vanish in the hour of peril. no man, in his full strength, can stand undismayed, in the presence of the "king of terrors." life is dear to every living thing; the worm that crawls upon the ground will struggle for it. at that moment it was dear to me, enslaved and treated as i was. not able to unloose his hand, once more i seized him by the throat, and this time, with a vice-like gripe that soon relaxed his hold. he became pliant and unstrung. his face, that had been white with passion, was now black from suffocation. those small serpent eyes that spat such venom, were now full of horror--two great white orbs starting from their sockets! there was "a lurking devil" in my heart that prompted me to kill the human blood-hound on the spot--to retain the grip on his accursed throat till the breath of life was gone! i dared not murder him, and i dared not let him live. if i killed him, my life must pay the forfeit--if he lived, my life only would satisfy his vengeance. a voice within whispered me to fly. to be a wanderer among the swamps, a fugitive and a vagabond on the face of the earth, was preferable to the life that i was leading. my resolution was soon formed, and swinging him from the work-bench to the ground, i leaped a fence near by, and hurried across the plantation, passing the slaves at work in the cotton field. at the end of a quarter of a mile i reached the wood-pasture, and it was a short time indeed that i had been running it. climbing on to a high fence, i could see the cotton press, the great house, and the space between. it was a conspicuous position, from whence the whole plantation was in view. i saw tibeats cross the field towards the house, and enter it--then he came out, carrying his saddle, and presently mounted his horse and galloped away. i was desolate, but thankful. thankful that my life was spared,--desolate and discouraged with the prospect before me. what would become of me? who would befriend me? whither should i fly? oh, god! thou who gavest me life, and implanted in my bosom the love of life--who filled it with emotions such as other men, thy creatures, have, do not forsake me. have pity on the poor slave--let me not perish. if thou dost not protect me, i am lost--lost! such supplications, silently and unuttered, ascended from my inmost heart to heaven. but there was no answering voice--no sweet, low tone, coming down from on high, whispering to my soul, "it is i, be not afraid." i was the forsaken of god, it seemed--the despised and hated of men! in about three-fourths of an hour several of the slaves shouted and made signs for me to run. presently, looking up the bayou, i saw tibeats and two others on horse-back, coming at a fast gait, followed by a troop of dogs. there were as many as eight or ten. distant as i was, i knew them. they belonged on the adjoining plantation. the dogs used on bayou boeuf for hunting slaves are a kind of blood-hound, but a far more savage breed than is found in the northern states. they will attack a negro, at their master's bidding, and cling to him as the common bull-dog will cling to a four footed animal. frequently their loud bay is heard in the swamps, and then there is speculation as to what point the runaway will be overhauled--the same as a new-york hunter stops to listen to the hounds coursing along the hillsides, and suggests to his companion that the fox will be taken at such a place. i never knew a slave escaping with his life from bayou boeuf. one reason is, they are not allowed to learn the art of swimming, and are incapable of crossing the most inconsiderable stream. in their flight they can go in no direction but a little way without coming to a bayou, when the inevitable alternative is presented, of being drowned or overtaken by the dogs. in youth i had practised in the clear streams that flow through my native district, until i had become an expert swimmer, and felt at home in the watery element. i stood upon the fence until the dogs had reached the cotton press. in an instant more, their long, savage yells announced they were on my track. leaping down from my position, i ran towards the swamp. fear gave me strength, and i exerted it to the utmost. every few moments i could hear the yelpings of the dogs. they were gaining upon me. every howl was nearer and nearer. each moment i expected they would spring upon my back--expected to feel their long teeth sinking into my flesh. there were so many of them, i knew they would tear me to pieces, that they would worry me, at once, to death. i gasped for breath--gasped forth a half-uttered, choking prayer to the almighty to save me--to give me strength to reach some wide, deep bayou where i could throw them off the track, or sink into its waters. presently i reached a thick palmetto bottom. as i fled through them they made a loud rustling noise, not loud enough, however, to drown the voices of the dogs. continuing my course due south, as nearly as i can judge, i came at length to water just over shoe. the hounds at that moment could not have been five rods behind me. i could hear them crashing and plunging through the palmettoes, their loud, eager yells making the whole swamp clamorous with the sound. hope revived a little as i reached the water. if it were only deeper, they might lose the scent, and thus disconcerted, afford me the opportunity of evading them. luckily, it grew deeper the farther i proceeded--now over my ankles--now half-way to my knees--now sinking a moment to my waist, and then emerging presently into more shallow places. the dogs had not gained upon me since i struck the water. evidently they were confused. now their savage intonations grew more and more distant, assuring me that i was leaving them. finally i stopped to listen, but the long howl came booming on the air again, telling me i was not yet safe. from bog to bog, where i had stepped, they could still keep upon the track, though impeded by the water. at length, to my great joy, i came to a wide bayou, and plunging in, had soon stemmed its sluggish current to the other side. there, certainly, the dogs would be confounded--the current carrying down the stream all traces of that slight, mysterious scent, which enables the quick-smelling hound to follow in the track of the fugitive. after crossing this bayou the water became so deep i could not run. i was now in what i afterwards learned was the "great pacoudrie swamp." it was filled with immense trees--the sycamore, the gum, the cotton wood and cypress, and extends, i am informed, to the shore of the calcasieu river. for thirty or forty miles it is without inhabitants, save wild beasts--the bear, the wild-cat, the tiger, and great slimy reptiles, that are crawling through it everywhere. long before i reached the bayou, in fact, from the time i struck the water until i emerged from the swamp on my return, these reptiles surrounded me. i saw hundreds of moccasin snakes. every log and bog--every trunk of a fallen tree, over which i was compelled to step or climb, was alive with them. they crawled away at my approach, but sometimes in my haste, i almost placed my hand or foot upon them. they are poisonous serpents--their bite more fatal than the rattlesnake's. besides, i had lost one shoe, the sole having come entirely off, leaving the upper only dangling to my ankle. i saw also many alligators, great and small, lying in the water, or on pieces of floodwood. the noise i made usually startled them, when they moved off and plunged into the deepest places. sometimes, however, i would come directly upon a monster before observing it. in such cases, i would start back, run a short way round, and in that manner shun them. straight forward, they will run a short distance rapidly, but do not possess the power of turning. in a crooked race, there is no difficulty in evading them. about two o'clock in the afternoon, i heard the last of the hounds. probably they did not cross the bayou. wet and weary, but relieved from the sense of instant peril, i continued on, more cautious and afraid, however, of the snakes and alligators than i had been in the earlier portion of my flight. now, before stepping into a muddy pool, i would strike the water with a stick. if the waters moved, i would go around it, if not, would venture through. at length the sun went down, and gradually night's trailing mantle shrouded the great swamp in darkness. still i staggered on, fearing every instant i should feel the dreadful sting of the moccasin, or be crushed within the jaws of some disturbed alligator. the dread of them now almost equaled the fear of the pursuing hounds. the moon arose after a time, its mild light creeping through the overspreading branches, loaded with long, pendent moss. i kept traveling forwards until after midnight, hoping all the while that i would soon emerge into some less desolate and dangerous region. but the water grew deeper and the walking more difficult than ever. i perceived it would be impossible to proceed much farther, and knew not, moreover, what hands i might fall into, should i succeed in reaching a human habitation. not provided with a pass, any white man would be at liberty to arrest me, and place me in prison until such time as my master should "prove property, pay charges, and take me away." i was an estray, and if so unfortunate as to meet a law-abiding citizen of louisiana, he would deem it his duty to his neighbor, perhaps, to put me forthwith in the pound. really, it was difficult to determine which i had most reason to fear--dogs, alligators or men! after midnight, however, i came to a halt. imagination cannot picture the dreariness of the scene. the swamp was resonant with the quacking of innumerable ducks! since the foundation of the earth, in all probability, a human footstep had never before so far penetrated the recesses of the swamp. it was not silent now--silent to a degree that rendered it oppressive,--as it was when the sun was shining in the heavens. my midnight intrusion had awakened the feathered tribes, which seemed to throng the morass in hundreds of thousands, and their garrulous throats poured forth such multitudinous sounds--there was such a fluttering of wings--such sullen plunges in the water all around me--that i was affrighted and appalled. all the fowls of the air, and all the creeping things of the earth appeared to have assembled together in that particular place, for the purpose of filling it with clamor and confusion. not by human dwellings--not in crowded cities alone, are the sights and sounds of life. the wildest places of the earth are full of them. even in the heart of that dismal swamp, god had provided a refuge and a dwelling place for millions of living things. the moon had now risen above the trees, when i resolved upon a new project. thus far i had endeavored to travel as nearly south as possible. turning about i proceeded in a north-west direction, my object being to strike the pine woods in the vicinity of master ford's. once within the shadow of his protection, i felt i would be comparatively safe. my clothes were in tatters, my hands, face, and body covered with scratches, received from the sharp knots of fallen trees, and in climbing over piles of brush and floodwood. my bare foot was full of thorns. i was besmeared with muck and mud, and the green slime that had collected on the surface of the dead water, in which i had been immersed to the neck many times during the day and night. hour after hour, and tiresome indeed had they become, i continued to plod along on my north-west course. the water began to grow less deep, and the ground more firm under my feet. at last i reached the pacoudrie, the same wide bayou i had swam while "outward bound." i swam it again, and shortly after thought i heard a cock crow, but the sound was faint, and it might have been a mockery of the ear. the water receded from my advancing footsteps--now i had left the bogs behind me--now i was on dry land that gradually ascended to the plain, and i knew i was somewhere in the "great pine woods." just at day-break i came to an opening--a sort of small plantation--but one i had never seen before. in the edge of the woods i came upon two men, a slave and his young master, engaged in catching wild hogs. the white man i knew would demand my pass, and not able to give him one, would take me into possession. i was too wearied to run again, and too desperate to be taken, and therefore adopted a ruse that proved entirely successful. assuming a fierce expression, i walked directly towards him, looking him steadily in the face. as i approached, he moved backwards with an air of alarm. it was plain he was much affrighted--that he looked upon me as some infernal goblin, just arisen from the bowels of the swamp! "where does william ford live?" i demanded, in no gentle tone. "he lives seven miles from here," was the reply. "which is the way to his place?" i again demanded, trying to look more fiercely than ever. "do you see those pine trees yonder?" he asked, pointing to two, a mile distant, that rose far above their fellows, like a couple of tall sentinels, overlooking the broad expanse of forest. "i see them," was the answer. "at the feet of those pine trees," he continued, "runs the texas road. turn to the left, and it will lead you to william ford's." without farther parley, i hastened forward, happy as he was, no doubt, to place the widest possible distance between us. striking the texas road, i turned to the left hand, as directed, and soon passed a great fire, where a pile of logs were burning. i went to it, thinking i would dry my clothes; but the gray light of the morning was fast breaking away,--some passing white man might observe me; besides, the heat overpowered me with the desire of sleep: so, lingering no longer, i continued my travels, and finally, about eight o'clock, reached the house of master ford. the slaves were all absent from the quarters, at their work. stepping on to the piazza, i knocked at the door, which was soon opened by mistress ford. my appearance was so changed--i was in such a wobegone and forlorn condition, she did not know me. inquiring if master ford was at home, that good man made his appearance, before the question could be answered. i told him of my flight, and all the particulars connected with it. he listened attentively, and when i had concluded, spoke to me kindly and sympathetically, and taking me to the kitchen, called john, and ordered him to prepare me food. i had tasted nothing since daylight the previous morning. when john had set the meal before me, the madam came out with a bowl of milk, and many little delicious dainties, such as rarely please the palate of a slave. i was hungry, and i was weary, but neither food nor rest afforded half the pleasure as did the blessed voices speaking kindness and consolation. it was the oil and the wine which the good samaritan in the "great pine woods" was ready to pour into the wounded spirit of the slave, who came to him, stripped of his raiment and half-dead. they left me in the cabin, that i might rest. blessed be sleep! it visiteth all alike, descending as the dews of heaven on the bond and free. soon it nestled to my bosom, driving away the troubles that oppressed it, and bearing me to that shadowy region, where i saw again the faces, and listened to the voices of my children, who, alas, for aught i knew in my waking hours, had fallen into the arms of that _other_ sleep, from which they _never_ would arouse. chapter xi. the mistress' garden--the crimson and golden fruit--orange and pomegranate trees--return to bayou boeuf--master ford's remarks on the way--the meeting with tibeats--his account of the chase--ford censures his brutality--arrival at the plantation--astonishment of the slaves on seeing me--the anticipated flogging--kentucky john--mr. eldret, the planter--eldret's sam--trip to the "big cane brake"--the tradition of "sutton's field"--forest trees--gnats and mosquitos--the arrival of black women in the big cane--lumber women--sudden appearance of tibeats--his provoking treatment--visit to bayou boeuf--the slave pass--southern hospitality--the last of eliza--sale to edwin epps. after a long sleep, sometime in the afternoon i awoke, refreshed, but very sore and stiff. sally came in and talked with me, while john cooked me some dinner. sally was in great trouble, as well as myself, one of her children being ill, and she feared it could not survive. dinner over, after walking about the quarters for a while, visiting sally's cabin and looking at the sick child, i strolled into the madam's garden. though it was a season of the year when the voices of the birds are silent, and the trees are stripped of their summer glories in more frigid climes, yet the whole variety of roses were then blooming there, and the long, luxuriant vines creeping over the frames. the crimson and golden fruit hung half hidden amidst the younger and older blossoms of the peach, the orange, the plum, and the pomegranate; for, in that region of almost perpetual warmth, the leaves are falling and the buds bursting into bloom the whole year long. i indulged the most grateful feelings towards master and mistress ford, and wishing in some manner to repay their kindness, commenced trimming the vines, and afterwards weeding out the grass from among the orange and pomegranate trees. the latter grows eight or ten feet high, and its fruit, though larger, is similar in appearance to the jelly-flower. it has the luscious flavor of the strawberry. oranges, peaches, plums, and most other fruits are indigenous to the rich, warm soil of avoyelles; but the apple, the most common of them all in colder latitudes, is rarely to be seen. mistress ford came out presently, saying it was praise-worthy in me, but i was not in a condition to labor, and might rest myself at the quarters until master should go down to bayou boeuf, which would not be that day, and it might not be the next. i said to her--to be sure, i felt bad, and was stiff, and that my foot pained me, the stubs and thorns having so torn it, but thought such exercise would not hurt me, and that it was a great pleasure to work for so good a mistress. thereupon she returned to the great house, and for three days i was diligent in the garden, cleaning the walks, weeding the flower beds, and pulling up the rank grass beneath the jessamine vines, which the gentle and generous hand of my protectress had taught to clamber along the walls. the fourth morning, having become recruited and refreshed, master ford ordered me to make ready to accompany him to the bayou. there was but one saddle horse at the opening, all the others with the mules having been sent down to the plantation. i said i could walk, and bidding sally and john goodbye, left the opening, trotting along by the horse's side. that little paradise in the great pine woods was the oasis in the desert, towards which my heart turned lovingly, during many years of bondage. i went forth from it now with regret and sorrow, not so overwhelming, however, as if it had then been given me to know that i should never return to it again. master ford urged me to take his place occasionally on the horse, to rest me; but i said no, i was not tired, and it was better for me to walk than him. he said many kind and cheering things to me on the way, riding slowly, in order that i might keep pace with him. the goodness of god was manifest, he declared, in my miraculous escape from the swamp. as daniel came forth unharmed from the den of lions, and as jonah had been preserved in the whale's belly, even so had i been delivered from evil by the almighty. he interrogated me in regard to the various fears and emotions i had experienced during the day and night, and if i had felt, at any time, a desire to pray. i felt forsaken of the whole world, i answered him, and was praying mentally all the while. at such times, said he, the heart of man turns instinctively towards his maker. in prosperity, and when there is nothing to injure or make him afraid, he remembers him not, and is ready to defy him; but place him in the midst of dangers, cut him off from human aid, let the grave open before him--then it is, in the time of his tribulation, that the scoffer and unbelieving man turns to god for help, feeling there is no other hope, or refuge, or safety, save in his protecting arm. so did that benignant man speak to me of this life and of the life hereafter; of the goodness and power of god, and of the vanity of earthly things, as we journeyed along the solitary road towards bayou boeuf. when within some five miles of the plantation, we discovered a horseman at a distance, galloping towards us. as he came near i saw that it was tibeats! he looked at me a moment, but did not address me, and turning about, rode along side by side with ford. i trotted silently at their horses' heels, listening to their conversation. ford informed him of my arrival in the pine woods three days before, of the sad plight i was in, and of the difficulties and dangers i had encountered. "well," exclaimed tibeats, omitting his usual oaths in the presence of ford, "i never saw such running before. i'll bet him against a hundred dollars, he'll beat any nigger in louisiana. i offered john david cheney twenty-five dollars to catch him, dead or alive, but he outran his dogs in a fair race. them cheney dogs ain't much, after all. dunwoodie's hounds would have had him down before he touched the palmettoes. somehow the dogs got off the track, and we had to give up the hunt. we rode the horses as far as we could, and then kept on foot till the water was three feet deep. the boys said he was drowned, sure. i allow i wanted a shot at him mightily. ever since, i have been riding up and down the bayou, but had'nt much hope of catching him--thought he was dead, _sartin_. oh, he's a cuss to run--that nigger is!" in this way tibeats ran on, describing his search in the swamp, the wonderful speed with which i had fled before the hounds, and when he had finished, master ford responded by saying, i had always been a willing and faithful boy with him; that he was sorry we had such trouble; that, according to platt's story, he had been inhumanly treated, and that he, tibeats, was himself in fault. using hatchets and broad-axes upon slaves was shameful, and should not be allowed, he remarked. "this is no way of dealing with them, when first brought into the country. it will have a pernicious influence, and set them all running away. the swamps will be full of them. a little kindness would be far more effectual in restraining them, and rendering them obedient, than the use of such deadly weapons. every planter on the bayou should frown upon such inhumanity. it is for the interest of all to do so. it is evident enough, mr. tibeats, that you and platt cannot live together. you dislike him, and would not hesitate to kill him, and knowing it, he will run from you again through fear of his life. now, tibeats, you must sell him, or hire him out, at least. unless you do so, i shall take measures to get him out of your possession." in this spirit ford addressed him the remainder of the distance. i opened not my mouth. on reaching the plantation they entered the great house, while i repaired to eliza's cabin. the slaves were astonished to find me there, on returning from the field, supposing i was drowned. that night, again, they gathered about the cabin to listen to the story of my adventure. they took it for granted i would be whipped, and that it would be severe, the well-known penalty of running away being five hundred lashes. "poor fellow," said eliza, taking me by the hand, "it would have been better for you if you had drowned. you have a cruel master, and he will kill you yet, i am afraid." lawson suggested that it might be, overseer chapin would be appointed to inflict the punishment, in which case it would not be severe, whereupon mary, rachel, bristol, and others hoped it would be master ford, and then it would be no whipping at all. they all pitied me and tried to console me, and were sad in view of the castigation that awaited me, except kentucky john. there were no bounds to his laughter; he filled the cabin with cachinnations, holding his sides to prevent an explosion, and the cause of his noisy mirth was the idea of my outstripping the hounds. somehow, he looked at the subject in a comical light. "i _know'd_ dey would'nt cotch him, when he run cross de plantation. o, de lor', did'nt platt pick his feet right up, tho', hey? when dem dogs got whar he was, he was'nt _dar_--haw, haw, haw! o, de lor' a' mity!"--and then kentucky john relapsed into another of his boisterous fits. early the next morning, tibeats left the plantation. in the course of the forenoon, while sauntering about the gin-house, a tall, good-looking man came to me, and inquired if i was tibeats' boy, that youthful appellation being applied indiscriminately to slaves even though they may have passed the number of three score years and ten. i took off my hat, and answered that i was. "how would you like to work for me?" he inquired. "oh, i would like to, very much," said i, inspired with a sudden hope of getting away from tibeats. "you worked under myers at peter tanner's, didn't you?" i replied i had, adding some complimentary remarks that myers had made concerning me. "well, boy," said he, "i have hired you of your master to work for me in the "big cane brake," thirty-eight miles from here, down on red river." this man was mr. eldret, who lived below ford's, on the same side of the bayou. i accompanied him to his plantation, and in the morning started with his slave sam, and a wagon-load of provisions, drawn by four mules, for the big cane, eldret and myers having preceded us on horseback. this sam was a native of charleston, where he had a mother, brother and sisters. he "allowed"--a common word among both black and white--that tibeats was a mean man, and hoped, as i most earnestly did also, that his master would buy me. we proceeded down the south shore of the bayou, crossing it at carey's plantation; from thence to huff power, passing which, we came upon the bayou rouge road, which runs towards red river. after passing through bayou rouge swamp, and just at sunset, turning from the highway, we struck off into the "big cane brake." we followed an unbeaten track, scarcely wide enough to admit the wagon. the cane, such as are used for fishing-rods, were as thick as they could stand. a person could not be seen through them the distance of a rod. the paths of wild beasts run through them in various directions--the bear and the american tiger abounding in these brakes, and wherever there is a basin of stagnant water, it is full of alligators. we kept on our lonely course through the "big cane" several miles, when we entered a clearing, known as "sutton's field." many years before, a man by the name of sutton had penetrated the wilderness of cane to this solitary place. tradition has it, that he fled thither, a fugitive, not from service, but from justice. here he lived alone--recluse and hermit of the swamp--with his own hands planting the seed and gathering in the harvest. one day a band of indians stole upon his solitude, and after a bloody battle, overpowered and massacred him. for miles the country round, in the slaves' quarters, and on the piazzas of "great houses," where white children listen to superstitious tales, the story goes, that that spot, in the heart of the "big cane," is a haunted place. for more than a quarter of a century, human voices had rarely, if ever, disturbed the silence of the clearing. rank and noxious weeds had overspread the once cultivated field--serpents sunned themselves on the doorway of the crumbling cabin. it was indeed a dreary picture of desolation. passing "sutton's field," we followed a new-cut road two miles farther, which brought us to its termination. we had now reached the wild lands of mr. eldret, where he contemplated clearing up an extensive plantation. we went to work next morning with our cane-knives, and cleared a sufficient space to allow the erection of two cabins--one for myers and eldret, the other for sam, myself, and the slaves that were to join us. we were now in the midst of trees of enormous growth, whose wide-spreading branches almost shut out the light of the sun, while the space between the trunks was an impervious mass of cane, with here and there an occasional palmetto. the bay and the sycamore, the oak and the cypress, reach a growth unparalleled, in those fertile lowlands bordering the red river. from every tree, moreover, hang long, large masses of moss, presenting to the eye unaccustomed to them, a striking and singular appearance. this moss, in large quantities, is sent north, and there used for manufacturing purposes. we cut down oaks, split them into rails, and with these erected temporary cabins. we covered the roofs with the broad palmetto leaf, an excellent substitute for shingles, as long as they last. the greatest annoyance i met with here were small flies, gnats and mosquitoes. they swarmed the air. they penetrated the porches of the ear, the nose, the eyes, the mouth. they sucked themselves beneath the skin. it was impossible to brush or beat them off. it seemed, indeed, as if they would devour us--carry us away piecemeal, in their small tormenting mouths. a lonelier spot, or one more disagreeable, than the centre of the "big cane brake," it would be difficult to conceive; yet to me it was a paradise, in comparison with any other place in the company of master tibeats. i labored hard, and oft-times was weary and fatigued, yet i could lie down at night in peace, and arise in the morning without fear. in the course of a fortnight, four black girls came down from eldret's plantation--charlotte, fanny, cresia and nelly. they were all large and stout. axes were put into their hands, and they were sent out with sam and myself to cut trees. they were excellent choppers, the largest oak or sycamore standing but a brief season before their heavy and well-directed blows. at piling logs, they were equal to any man. there are lumberwomen as well as lumbermen in the forests of the south. in fact, in the region of the bayou boeuf they perform their share of all the labor required on the plantation. they plough, drag, drive team, clear wild lands, work on the highway, and so forth. some planters, owning large cotton and sugar plantations, have none other than the labor of slave women. such a one is jim burns, who lives on the north shore of the bayou, opposite the plantation of john fogaman. on our arrival in the brake, eldret promised me, if i worked well, i might go up to visit my friends at ford's in four weeks. on saturday night of the fifth week, i reminded him of his promise, when he told me i had done so well, that i might go. i had set my heart upon it, and eldret's announcement thrilled me with pleasure. i was to return in time to commence the labors of the day on tuesday morning. while indulging the pleasant anticipation of so soon meeting my old friends again, suddenly the hateful form of tibeats appeared among us. he inquired how myers and platt got along together, and was told, very well, and that platt was going up to ford's plantation in the morning on a visit. "poh, poh!" sneered tibeats; "it isn't worth while--the nigger will get unsteady. he can't go." but eldret insisted i had worked faithfully--that he had given me his promise, and that, under the circumstances, i ought not to be disappointed. they then, it being about dark, entered one cabin and i the other. i could not give up the idea of going; it was a sore disappointment. before morning i resolved, if eldret made no objection, to leave at all hazards. at daylight i was at his door, with my blanket rolled up into a bundle, and hanging on a stick over my shoulder, waiting for a pass. tibeats came out presently in one of his disagreeable moods, washed his face, and going to a stump near by, sat down upon it, apparently busily thinking with himself. after standing there a long time, impelled by a sudden impulse of impatience, i started off. "are you going without a pass?" he cried out to me. "yes, master, i thought i would," i answered. "how do you think you'll get there?" demanded he. "don't know," was all the reply i made him. "you'd be taken and sent to jail, where you ought to be, before you got half-way there," he added, passing into the cabin as he said it. he came out soon with the pass in his hand, and calling me a "d--d nigger that deserved a hundred lashes," threw it on the ground. i picked it up, and hurried away right speedily. a slave caught off his master's plantation without a pass, may be seized and whipped by any white man whom he meets. the one i now received was dated, and read as follows: "platt has permission to go to ford's plantation, on bayou boeuf, and return by tuesday morning. john m. tibeats." this is the usual form. on the way, a great many demanded it, read it, and passed on. those having the air and appearance of gentlemen, whose dress indicated the possession of wealth, frequently took no notice of me whatever; but a shabby fellow, an unmistakable loafer, never failed to hail me, and to scrutinize and examine me in the most thorough manner. catching runaways is sometimes a money-making business. if, after advertising, no owner appears, they may be sold to the highest bidder; and certain fees are allowed the finder for his services, at all events, even if reclaimed. "a mean white," therefore,--a name applied to the species loafer--considers it a god-send to meet an unknown negro without a pass. there are no inns along the highways in that portion of the state where i sojourned. i was wholly destitute of money, neither did i carry any provisions, on my journey from the big cane to bayou boeuf; nevertheless, with his pass in his hand, a slave need never suffer from hunger or from thirst. it is only necessary to present it to the master or overseer of a plantation, and state his wants, when he will be sent round to the kitchen and provided with food or shelter, as the case may require. the traveler stops at any house and calls for a meal with as much freedom as if it was a public tavern. it is the general custom of the country. whatever their faults may be, it is certain the inhabitants along red river, and around the bayous in the interior of louisiana are not wanting in hospitality. i arrived at ford's plantation towards the close of the afternoon, passing the evening in eliza's cabin, with lawson, rachel, and others of my acquaintance. when we left washington eliza's form was round and plump. she stood erect, and in her silks and jewels, presented a picture of graceful strength and elegance. now she was but a thin shadow of her former self. her face had become ghastly haggard, and the once straight and active form was bowed down, as if bearing the weight of a hundred years. crouching on her cabin floor, and clad in the coarse garments of a slave, old elisha berry would not have recognized the mother of his child. i never saw her afterwards. having become useless in the cotton-field, she was bartered for a trifle, to some man residing in the vicinity of peter compton's. grief had gnawed remorselessly at her heart, until her strength was gone; and for that, her last master, it is said, lashed and abused her most unmercifully. but he could not whip back the departed vigor of her youth, nor straighten up that bended body to its full height, such as it was when her children were around her, and the light of freedom was shining on her path. i learned the particulars relative to her departure from this world, from some of compton's slaves, who had come over red river to the bayou, to assist young madam tanner during the "busy season." she became at length, they said, utterly helpless, for several weeks lying on the ground floor in a dilapidated cabin, dependent upon the mercy of her fellow-thralls for an occasional drop of water, and a morsel of food. her master did not "knock her on the head," as is sometimes done to put a suffering animal out of misery, but left her unprovided for, and unprotected, to linger through a life of pain and wretchedness to its natural close. when the hands returned from the field one night they found her dead! during the day, the angel of the lord, who moveth invisibly over all the earth, gathering in his harvest of departing souls, had silently entered the cabin of the dying woman, and taken her from thence. she was _free_ at last! next day, rolling up my blanket, i started on my return to the big cane. after traveling five miles, at a place called huff power, the ever-present tibeats met me in the road. he inquired why i was going back so soon, and when informed i was anxious to return by the time i was directed, he said i need go no farther than the next plantation, as he had that day sold me to edwin epps. we walked down into the yard, where we met the latter gentleman, who examined me, and asked me the usual questions propounded by purchasers. having been duly delivered over, i was ordered to the quarters, and at the same time directed to make a hoe and axe handle for myself. i was now no longer the property of tibeats--his dog, his brute, dreading his wrath and cruelty day and night; and whoever or whatever my new master might prove to be, i could not, certainly, regret the change. so it was good news when the sale was announced, and with a sigh of relief i sat down for the first time in my new abode. tibeats soon after disappeared from that section of the country. once afterwards, and only once, i caught a glimpse of him. it was many miles from bayou boeuf. he was seated in the doorway of a low groggery. i was passing, in a drove of slaves, through st. mary's parish. chapter xii. personal appearance of epps--epps, drunk and sober--a glimpse of his history--cotton growing--the mode of ploughing and preparing ground--of planting--of hoeing, of picking, of treating raw hands--the difference in cotton pickers--patsey a remarkable one--tasked according to ability--beauty of a cotton field--the slave's labors--fear on approaching the gin-house--weighing--"chores"--cabin life--the corn mill--the uses of the gourd--fear of oversleeping--fear continually--mode of cultivating corn--sweet potatoes--fertility of the soil--fattening hogs--preserving bacon--raising cattle--shooting-matches--garden products--flowers and verdure. edwin epps, of whom much will be said during the remainder of this history, is a large, portly, heavy-bodied man with light hair, high cheek bones, and a roman nose of extraordinary dimensions. he has blue eyes, a fair complexion, and is, as i should say, full six feet high. he has the sharp, inquisitive expression of a jockey. his manners are repulsive and coarse, and his language gives speedy and unequivocal evidence that he has never enjoyed the advantages of an education. he has the faculty of saying most provoking things, in that respect even excelling old peter tanner. at the time i came into his possession, edwin epps was fond of the bottle, his "sprees" sometimes extending over the space of two whole weeks. latterly, however, he had reformed his habits, and when i left him, was as strict a specimen of temperance as could be found on bayou boeuf. when "in his cups," master epps was a roystering, blustering, noisy fellow, whose chief delight was in dancing with his "niggers," or lashing them about the yard with his long whip, just for the pleasure of hearing them screech and scream, as the great welts were planted on their backs. when sober, he was silent, reserved and cunning, not beating us indiscriminately, as in his drunken moments, but sending the end of his rawhide to some tender spot of a lagging slave, with a sly dexterity peculiar to himself. he had been a driver and overseer in his younger years, but at this time was in possession of a plantation on bayou huff power, two and a half miles from holmesville, eighteen from marksville, and twelve from cheneyville. it belonged to joseph b. roberts, his wife's uncle, and was leased by epps. his principal business was raising cotton, and inasmuch as some may read this book who have never seen a cotton field, a description of the manner of its culture may not be out of place. the ground is prepared by throwing up beds or ridges, with the plough--back-furrowing, it is called. oxen and mules, the latter almost exclusively, are used in ploughing. the women as frequently as the men perform this labor, feeding, currying, and taking care of their teams, and in all respects doing the field and stable work, precisely as do the ploughboys of the north. the beds, or ridges, are six feet wide, that is, from water furrow to water furrow. a plough drawn by one mule is then run along the top of the ridge or center of the bed, making the drill, into which a girl usually drops the seed, which she carries in a bag hung round her neck. behind her comes a mule and harrow, covering up the seed, so that two mules, three slaves, a plough and harrow, are employed in planting a row of cotton. this is done in the months of march and april. corn is planted in february. when there are no cold rains, the cotton usually makes its appearance in a week. in the course of eight or ten days afterwards the first hoeing is commenced. this is performed in part, also, by the aid of the plough and mule. the plough passes as near as possible to the cotton on both sides, throwing the furrow from it. slaves follow with their hoes, cutting up the grass and cotton, leaving hills two feet and a half apart. this is called scraping cotton. in two weeks more commences the second hoeing. this time the furrow is thrown towards the cotton. only one stalk, the largest, is now left standing in each hill. in another fortnight it is hoed the third time, throwing the furrow towards the cotton in the same manner as before, and killing all the grass between the rows. about the first of july, when it is a foot high or thereabouts, it is hoed the fourth and last time. now the whole space between the rows is ploughed, leaving a deep water furrow in the center. during all these hoeings the overseer or driver follows the slaves on horseback with a whip, such as has been described. the fastest hoer takes the lead row. he is usually about a rod in advance of his companions. if one of them passes him, he is whipped. if one falls behind or is a moment idle, he is whipped. in fact, the lash is flying from morning until night, the whole day long. the hoeing season thus continues from april until july, a field having no sooner been finished once, than it is commenced again. in the latter part of august begins the cotton picking season. at this time each slave is presented with a sack. a strap is fastened to it, which goes over the neck, holding the mouth of the sack breast high, while the bottom reaches nearly to the ground. each one is also presented with a large basket that will hold about two barrels. this is to put the cotton in when the sack is filled. the baskets are carried to the field and placed at the beginning of the rows. when a new hand, one unaccustomed to the business, is sent for the first time into the field, he is whipped up smartly, and made for that day to pick as fast as he can possibly. at night it is weighed, so that his capability in cotton picking is known. he must bring in the same weight each night following. if it falls short, it is considered evidence that he has been laggard, and a greater or less number of lashes is the penalty. an ordinary day's work is two hundred pounds. a slave who is accustomed to picking, is punished, if he or she brings in a less quantity than that. there is a great difference among them as regards this kind of labor. some of them seem to have a natural knack, or quickness, which enables them to pick with great celerity, and with both hands, while others, with whatever practice or industry, are utterly unable to come up to the ordinary standard. such hands are taken from the cotton field and employed in other business. patsey, of whom i shall have more to say, was known as the most remarkable cotton picker on bayou boeuf. she picked with both hands and with such surprising rapidity, that five hundred pounds a day was not unusual for her. each one is tasked, therefore, according to his picking abilities, none, however, to come short of two hundred weight. i, being unskillful always in that business, would have satisfied my master by bringing in the latter quantity, while on the other hand, patsey would surely have been beaten if she failed to produce twice as much. the cotton grows from five to seven feet high, each stalk having a great many branches, shooting out in all directions, and lapping each other above the water furrow. there are few sights more pleasant to the eye, than a wide cotton field when it is in the bloom. it presents an appearance of purity, like an immaculate expanse of light, new-fallen snow. sometimes the slave picks down one side of a row, and back upon the other, but more usually, there is one on either side, gathering all that has blossomed, leaving the unopened bolls for a succeeding picking. when the sack is filled, it is emptied into the basket and trodden down. it is necessary to be extremely careful the first time going through the field, in order not to break the branches off the stalks. the cotton will not bloom upon a broken branch. epps never failed to inflict the severest chastisement on the unlucky servant who, either carelessly or unavoidably, was guilty in the least degree in this respect. the hands are required to be in the cotton field as soon as it is light in the morning, and, with the exception of ten or fifteen minutes, which is given them at noon to swallow their allowance of cold bacon, they are not permitted to be a moment idle until it is too dark to see, and when the moon is full, they often times labor till the middle of the night. they do not dare to stop even at dinner time, nor return to the quarters, however late it be, until the order to halt is given by the driver. the day's work over in the field, the baskets are "toted," or in other words, carried to the gin-house, where the cotton is weighed. no matter how fatigued and weary he may be--no matter how much he longs for sleep and rest--a slave never approaches the gin-house with his basket of cotton but with fear. if it falls short in weight--if he has not performed the full task appointed him, he knows that he must suffer. and if he has exceeded it by ten or twenty pounds, in all probability his master will measure the next day's task accordingly. so, whether he has too little or too much, his approach to the gin-house is always with, fear and trembling. most frequently they have too little, and therefore it is they are not anxious to leave the field. after weighing, follow the whippings; and then the baskets are carried to the cotton house, and their contents stored away like hay, all hands being sent in to tramp it down. if the cotton is not dry, instead of taking it to the gin-house at once, it is laid upon platforms, two feet high, and some three times as wide, covered with boards or plank, with narrow walks running between them. this done, the labor of the day is not yet ended, by any means. each one must then attend to his respective chores. one feeds the mules, another the swine--another cuts the wood, and so forth; besides, the packing is all done by candle light. finally, at a late hour, they reach the quarters, sleepy and overcome with the long day's toil. then a fire must be kindled in the cabin, the corn ground in the small hand-mill, and supper, and dinner for the next day in the field, prepared. all that is allowed them is corn and bacon, which is given out at the corncrib and smoke-house every sunday morning. each one receives, as his weekly, allowance, three and a half pounds of bacon, and corn enough to make a peck of meal. that is all--no tea, coffee, sugar, and with the exception of a very scanty sprinkling now and then, no salt. i can say, from a ten years' residence with master epps, that no slave of his is ever likely to suffer from the gout, superinduced by excessive high living. master epps' hogs were fed on _shelled_ corn--it was thrown out to his "niggers" in the ear. the former, he thought, would fatten faster by shelling, and soaking it in the water--the latter, perhaps, if treated in the same manner, might grow too fat to labor. master epps was a shrewd calculator, and knew how to manage his own animals, drunk or sober. the corn mill stands in the yard beneath a shelter. it is like a common coffee mill, the hopper holding about six quarts. there was one privilege which master epps granted freely to every slave he had. they might grind their corn nightly, in such small quantities as their daily wants required, or they might grind the whole week's allowance at one time, on sundays, just as they preferred. a very generous man was master epps! i kept my corn in a small wooden box, the meal in a gourd; and, by the way, the gourd is one of the most convenient and necessary utensils on a plantation. besides supplying the place of all kinds of crockery in a slave cabin, it is used for carrying water to the fields. another, also, contains the dinner. it dispenses with the necessity of pails, dippers, basins, and such tin and wooden superfluities altogether. when the corn is ground, and fire is made, the bacon is taken down from the nail on which it hangs, a slice cut off and thrown upon the coals to broil. the majority of slaves have no knife, much less a fork. they cut their bacon with the axe at the wood-pile. the corn meal is mixed with a little water, placed in the fire, and baked. when it is "done brown," the ashes are scraped off, and being placed upon a chip, which answers for a table, the tenant of the slave hut is ready to sit down upon the ground to supper. by this time it is usually midnight. the same fear of punishment with which they approach the gin-house, possesses them again on lying down to get a snatch of rest. it is the fear of oversleeping in the morning. such an offence would certainly be attended with not less than twenty lashes. with a prayer that he may be on his feet and wide awake at the first sound of the horn, he sinks to his slumbers nightly. the softest couches in the world are not to be found in the log mansion of the slave. the one whereon i reclined year after year, was a plank twelve inches wide and ten feet long. my pillow was a stick of wood. the bedding was a coarse blanket, and not a rag or shred beside. moss might be used, were it not that it directly breeds a swarm of fleas. the cabin is constructed of logs, without floor or window. the latter is altogether unnecessary, the crevices between the logs admitting sufficient light. in stormy weather the rain drives through them, rendering it comfortless and extremely disagreeable. the rude door hangs on great wooden hinges. in one end is constructed an awkward fire-place. an hour before day light the horn is blown. then the slaves arouse, prepare their breakfast, fill a gourd with water, in another deposit their dinner of cold bacon and corn cake, and hurry to the field again. it is an offence invariably followed by a flogging, to be found at the quarters after daybreak. then the fears and labors of another day begin; and until its close there is no such thing as rest. he fears he will be caught lagging through the day; he fears to approach the gin-house with his basket-load of cotton at night; he fears, when he lies down, that he will oversleep himself in the morning. such is a true, faithful, unexaggerated picture and description of the slave's daily life, during the time of cotton-picking, on the shores of bayou boeuf. in the month of january, generally, the fourth and last picking is completed. then commences the harvesting of corn. this is considered a secondary crop, and receives far less attention than the cotton. it is planted, as already mentioned, in february. corn is grown in that region for the purpose of fattening hogs and feeding slaves; very little, if any, being sent to market. it is the white variety, the ear of great size, and the stalk growing to the height of eight, and often times ten feet. in august the leaves are stripped off, dried in the sun, bound in small bundles, and stored away as provender for the mules and oxen. after this the slaves go through the field, turning down the ear, for the purpose of keeping the rains from penetrating to the grain. it is left in this condition until after cotton-picking is over, whether earlier or later. then the ears are separated from the stalks, and deposited in the corncrib with the husks on; otherwise, stripped of the husks, the weevil would destroy it. the stalks are left standing in the field. the carolina, or sweet potato, is also grown in that region to some extent. they are not fed, however, to hogs or cattle, and are considered but of small importance. they are preserved by placing them upon the surface of the ground, with a slight covering of earth or cornstalks. there is not a cellar on bayou boeuf. the ground is so low it would fill with water. potatoes are worth from two to three "bits," or shillings a barrel; corn, except when there is an unusual scarcity, can be purchased at the same rate. as soon as the cotton and corn crops are secured, the stalks are pulled up, thrown into piles and burned. the ploughs are started at the same time, throwing up the beds again, preparatory to another planting. the soil, in the parishes of rapides and avoyelles, and throughout the whole country, so far as my observation extended, is of exceeding richness and fertility. it is a kind of marl, of a brown or reddish color. it does not require those invigorating composts necessary to more barren lands, and on the same field the same crop is grown for many successive years. ploughing, planting, picking cotton, gathering the corn, and pulling and burning stalks, occupies the whole of the four seasons of the year. drawing and cutting wood, pressing cotton, fattening and killing hogs, are but incidental labors. in the month of september or october, the hogs are run out of the swamps by dogs, and confined in pens. on a cold morning, generally about new year's day, they are slaughtered. each carcass is cut into six parts, and piled one above the other in salt, upon large tables in the smoke-house. in this condition it remains a fortnight, when it is hung up, and a fire built, and continued more than half the time during the remainder of the year. this thorough smoking is necessary to prevent the bacon from becoming infested with worms. in so warm a climate it is difficult to preserve it, and very many times myself and my companions have received our weekly allowance of three pounds and a half, when it was full of these disgusting vermin. although the swamps are overrun with cattle, they are never made the source of profit, to any considerable extent. the planter cuts his mark upon the ear, or brands his initials upon the side, and turns them into the swamps, to roam unrestricted within their almost limitless confines. they are the spanish breed, small and spike-horned. i have known of droves being taken from bayou boeuf, but it is of very rare occurrence. the value of the best cows is about five dollars each. two quarts at one milking, would be considered an unusual large quantity. they furnish little tallow, and that of a soft, inferior quality. notwithstanding the great number of cows that throng the swamps, the planters are indebted to the north for their cheese and butter, which is purchased in the new-orleans market. salted beef is not an article of food either in the great house, or in the cabin. master epps was accustomed to attend shooting matches for the purpose of obtaining what fresh beef he required. these sports occurred weekly at the neighboring village of holmesville. fat beeves are driven thither and shot at, a stipulated price being demanded for the privilege. the lucky marksman divides the flesh among his fellows, and in this manner the attending planters are supplied. the great number of tame and untamed cattle which swarm the woods and swamps of bayou boeuf, most probably suggested that appellation to the french, inasmuch as the term, translated, signifies the creek or river of the wild ox. garden products, such as cabbages, turnips and the like, are cultivated for the use of the master and his family. they have greens and vegetables at all times and seasons of the year. "the grass withereth and the flower fadeth" before the desolating winds of autumn in the chill northern latitudes, but perpetual verdure overspreads the hot lowlands, and flowers bloom in the heart of winter, in the region of bayou boeuf. there are no meadows appropriated to the cultivation of the grasses. the leaves of the corn supply a sufficiency of food for the laboring cattle, while the rest provide for themselves all the year in the ever-growing pasture. there are many other peculiarities of climate, habit, custom, and of the manner of living and laboring at the south, but the foregoing, it is supposed, will give the reader an insight and general idea of life on a cotton plantation in louisiana. the mode of cultivating cane, and the process of sugar manufacturing, will be mentioned in another place. chapter xiii. the curious axe-helve--symptoms of approaching illness--continue to decline--the whip ineffectual--confined to the cabin--visit by dr. wines--partial recovery--failure at cotton picking--what may be heard on epps' plantation--lashes graduated--epps in a whipping mood--epps in a dancing mood--description of the dance--loss of rest no excuse--epps' characteristics--jim burns removal from huff power to bayou boeuf--description of uncle abram; of wiley; of aunt phebe; of bob, henry, and edward; of patsey; with a genealogical account of each--something of their past history, and peculiar characteristics--jealousy and lust--patsey, the victim. on my arrival at master epps', in obedience to his order, the first business upon which i entered was the making of an axe-helve. the handles in use there are simply a round, straight stick. i made a crooked one, shaped like those to which i had been accustomed at the north. when finished, and presented to epps, he looked at it with astonishment, unable to determine exactly what it was. he had never before seen such a handle, and when i explained its conveniences, he was forcibly struck with the novelty of the idea. he kept it in the house a long time, and when his friends called, was wont to exhibit it as a curiosity. it was now the season of hoeing. i was first sent into the corn-field, and afterwards set to scraping cotton. in this employment i remained until hoeing time was nearly passed, when i began to experience the symptoms of approaching illness. i was attacked with chills, which were succeeded by a burning fever. i became weak and emaciated, and frequently so dizzy that it caused me to reel and stagger like a drunken man. nevertheless, i was compelled to keep up my row. when in health i found little difficulty in keeping pace with my fellow-laborers, but now it seemed to be an utter impossibility. often i fell behind, when the driver's lash was sure to greet my back, infusing into my sick and drooping body a little temporary energy. i continued to decline until at length the whip became entirely ineffectual. the sharpest sting of the rawhide could not arouse me. finally, in september, when the busy season of cotton picking was at hand, i was unable to leave my cabin. up to this time i had received no medicine, nor any attention from my master or mistress. the old cook visited me occasionally, preparing me corn-coffee, and sometimes boiling a bit of bacon, when i had grown too feeble to accomplish it myself. when it was said that i would die, master epps, unwilling to bear the loss, which the death of an animal worth a thousand dollars would bring upon him, concluded to incur the expense of sending to holmesville for dr. wines. he announced to epps that it was the effect of the climate, and there was a probability of his losing me. he directed me to eat no meat, and to partake of no more food than was absolutely necessary to sustain life. several weeks elapsed, during which time, under the scanty diet to which i was subjected, i had partially recovered. one morning, long before i was in a proper condition to labor, epps appeared at the cabin door, and, presenting me a sack, ordered me to the cotton field. at this time i had had no experience whatever in cotton picking. it was an awkward business indeed. while others used both hands, snatching the cotton and depositing it in the mouth of the sack, with a precision and dexterity that was incomprehensible to me, i had to seize the boll with one hand, and deliberately draw out the white, gushing blossom with the other. depositing the cotton in the sack, moreover, was a difficulty that demanded the exercise of both hands and eyes. i was compelled to pick it from the ground where it would fall, nearly as often as from the stalk where it had grown. i made havoc also with the branches, loaded with the yet unbroken bolls, the long, cumbersome sack swinging from side to side in a manner not allowable in the cotton field. after a most laborious day i arrived at the gin-house with my load. when the scale determined its weight to be only ninety-five pounds, not half the quantity required of the poorest picker, epps threatened the severest flogging, but in consideration of my being a "raw hand," concluded to pardon me on that occasion. the following day, and many days succeeding, i returned at night with no better success--i was evidently not designed for that kind of labor. i had not the gift--the dexterous fingers and quick motion of patsey, who could fly along one side of a row of cotton, stripping it of its undefiled and fleecy whiteness miraculously fast. practice and whipping were alike unavailing, and epps, satisfied of it at last, swore i was a disgrace--that i was not fit to associate with a cotton-picking "nigger"--that i could not pick enough in a day to pay the trouble of weighing it, and that i should go into the cotton field no more. i was now employed in cutting and hauling wood, drawing cotton from the field to the gin-house, and performed whatever other service was required. suffice to say, i was never permitted to be idle. it was rarely that a day passed by without one or more whippings. this occurred at the time the cotton was weighed. the delinquent, whose weight had fallen short, was taken out, stripped, made to lie upon the ground, face downwards, when he received a punishment proportioned to his offence. it is the literal, unvarnished truth, that the crack of the lash, and the shrieking of the slaves, can be heard from dark till bed time, on epps' plantation, any day almost during the entire period of the cotton-picking season. the number of lashes is graduated according to the nature of the case. twenty-five are deemed a mere brush, inflicted, for instance, when a dry leaf or piece of boll is found in the cotton, or when a branch is broken in the field; fifty is the ordinary penalty following all delinquencies of the next higher grade; one hundred is called severe: it is the punishment inflicted for the serious offence of standing idle in the field; from one hundred and fifty to two hundred is bestowed upon him who quarrels with his cabin-mates, and five hundred, well laid on, besides the mangling of the dogs, perhaps, is certain to consign the poor, unpitied runaway to weeks of pain and agony. during the two years epps remained on the plantation at bayou huff power, he was in the habit, as often as once in a fortnight at least, of coming home intoxicated from holmesville. the shooting-matches almost invariably concluded with a debauch. at such times he was boisterous and half-crazy. often he would break the dishes, chairs, and whatever furniture he could lay his hands on. when satisfied with his amusement in the house, he would seize the whip and walk forth into the yard. then it behooved the slaves to be watchful and exceeding wary. the first one who came within reach felt the smart of his lash. sometimes for hours he would keep them running in all directions, dodging around the corners of the cabins. occasionally he would come upon one unawares, and if he succeeded in inflicting a fair, round blow, it was a feat that much delighted him. the younger children, and the aged, who had become inactive, suffered then. in the midst of the confusion he would slily take his stand behind a cabin, waiting with raised whip, to dash it into the first black face that peeped cautiously around the corner. at other times he would come home in a less brutal humor. then there must be a merry-making. then all must move to the measure of a tune. then master epps must needs regale his melodious ears with the music of a fiddle. then did he become buoyant, elastic, gaily "tripping the light fantastic toe" around the piazza and all through the house. tibeats, at the time of my sale, had informed him i could play on the violin. he had received his information from ford. through the importunities of mistress epps, her husband had been induced to purchase me one during a visit to new-orleans. frequently i was called into the house to play before the family, mistress being passionately fond of music. all of us would be assembled in the large room of the great house, whenever epps came home in one of his dancing moods. no matter how worn out and tired we were, there must be a general dance. when properly stationed on the floor, i would strike up a tune. "dance, you d--d niggers, dance," epps would shout. then there must be no halting or delay, no slow or languid movements; all must be brisk, and lively, and alert. "up and down, heel and toe, and away we go," was the order of the hour. epps' portly form mingled with those of his dusky slaves, moving rapidly through all the mazes of the dance. usually his whip was in his hand, ready to fall about the ears of the presumptuous thrall, who dared to rest a moment, or even stop to catch his breath. when he was himself exhausted, there would be a brief cessation, but it would be very brief. with a slash, and crack, and flourish of the whip, he would shout again, "dance, niggers, dance," and away they would go once more, pell-mell, while i spurred by an occasional sharp touch of the lash, sat in a corner, extracting from my violin a marvelous quick-stepping tune. the mistress often upbraided him, declaring she would return to her father's house at cheneyville; nevertheless, there were times she could not restrain a burst of laughter, on witnessing his uproarious pranks. frequently, we were thus detained until almost morning. bent with excessive toil--actually suffering for a little refreshing rest, and feeling rather as if we could cast ourselves upon the earth and weep, many a night in the house of edwin epps have his unhappy slaves been made to dance and laugh. notwithstanding these deprivations in order to gratify the whim of an unreasonable master, we had to be in the field as soon as it was light, and during the day perform the ordinary and accustomed task. such deprivations could not be urged at the scales in extenuation of any lack of weight, or in the cornfield for not hoeing with the usual rapidity. the whippings were just as severe as if we had gone forth in the morning, strengthened and invigorated by a night's repose. indeed, after such frantic revels, he was always more sour and savage than before, punishing for slighter causes, and using the whip with increased and more vindictive energy. ten years i toiled for that man without reward. ten years of my incessant labor has contributed to increase the bulk of his possessions. ten years i was compelled to address him with down-cast eyes and uncovered head--in the attitude and language of a slave. i am indebted to him for nothing, save undeserved abuse and stripes. beyond the reach of his inhuman thong, and standing on the soil of the free state where i was born, thanks be to heaven, i can raise my head once more among men. i can speak of the wrongs i have suffered, and of those who inflicted them, with upraised eyes. but i have no desire to speak of him or any other one otherwise than truthfully. yet to speak truthfully of edwin epps would be to say--he is a man in whose heart the quality of kindness or of justice is not found. a rough, rude energy, united with an uncultivated mind and an avaricious spirit, are his prominent characteristics. he is known as a "nigger breaker," distinguished for his faculty of subduing the spirit of the slave, and priding himself upon his reputation in this respect, as a jockey boasts of his skill in managing a refractory horse. he looked upon a colored man, not as a human being, responsible to his creator for the small talent entrusted to him, but as a "chattel personal," as mere live property, no better, except in value, than his mule or dog. when the evidence, clear and indisputable, was laid before him that i was a free man, and as much entitled to my liberty as he--when, on the day i left, he was informed that i had a wife and children, as dear to me as his own babes to him, he only raved and swore, denouncing the law that tore me from him, and declaring he would find out the man who had forwarded the letter that disclosed the place of my captivity, if there was any virtue or power in money, and would take his life. he thought of nothing but his loss, and cursed me for having been born free. he could have stood unmoved and seen the tongues of his poor slaves torn out by the roots--he could have seen them burned to ashes over a slow fire, or gnawed to death by dogs, if it only brought him profit. such a hard, cruel, unjust man is edwin epps. there was but one greater savage on bayou boeuf than he. jim burns' plantation was cultivated, as already mentioned, exclusively by women. that barbarian kept their backs so sore and raw, that they could not perform the customary labor demanded daily of the slave. he boasted of his cruelty, and through all the country round was accounted a more thorough-going, energetic man than even epps. a brute himself, jim burns had not a particle of mercy for his subject brutes, and like a fool, whipped and scourged away the very strength upon which depended his amount of gain. epps remained on huff power two years, when, having accumulated a considerable sum of money, he expended it in the purchase of the plantation on the east bank of bayou boeuf, where he still continues to reside. he took possession of it in 1845, after the holidays were passed. he carried thither with him nine slaves, all of whom, except myself, and susan, who has since died, remain there yet. he made no addition to this force, and for eight years the following were my companions in his quarters, viz: abram, wiley, phebe, bob, henry, edward, and patsey. all these, except edward, born since, were purchased out of a drove by epps during the time he was overseer for archy b. williams, whose plantation is situated on the shore of red river, not far from alexandria. abram was tall, standing a full head above any common man. he is sixty years of age, and was born in tennessee. twenty years ago, he was purchased by a trader, carried into south carolina, and sold to james buford, of williamsburgh county, in that state. in his youth he was renowned for his great strength, but age and unremitting toil have somewhat shattered his powerful frame and enfeebled his mental faculties. wiley is forty-eight. he was born on the estate of william tassle, and for many years took charge of that gentleman's ferry over the big black river, in south carolina. phebe was a slave of buford, tassle's neighbor, and having married wiley, he bought the latter, at her instigation. buford was a kind master, sheriff of the county, and in those days a man of wealth. bob and henry are phebe's children, by a former husband, their father having been abandoned to give place to wiley. that seductive youth had insinuated himself into phebe's affections, and therefore the faithless spouse had gently kicked her first husband out of her cabin door. edward had been born to them on bayou huff power. patsey is twenty-three--also from buford's plantation. she is in no wise connected with the others, but glories in the fact that she is the offspring of a "guinea nigger," brought over to cuba in a slave ship, and in the course of trade transferred to buford, who was her mother's owner. this, as i learned from them, is a genealogical account of my master's slaves. for years they had been together. often they recalled the memories of other days, and sighed to retrace their steps to the old home in carolina. troubles came upon their master buford, which brought far greater troubles upon them. he became involved in debt, and unable to bear up against his failing fortunes, was compelled to sell these, and others of his slaves. in a chain gang they had been driven from beyond the mississippi to the plantation of archy b. williams. edwin epps, who, for a long while had been his driver and overseer, was about establishing himself in business on his own account, at the time of their arrival, and accepted them in payment of his wages. old abram was a kind-hearted being--a sort of patriarch among us, fond of entertaining his younger brethren with grave and serious discourse. he was deeply versed in such philosophy as is taught in the cabin of the slave; but the great absorbing hobby of uncle abram was general jackson, whom his young master in tennessee had followed to the wars. he loved to wander back, in imagination, to the place where he was born, and to recount the scenes of his youth during those stirring times when the nation was in arms. he had been athletic, and more keen and powerful than the generality of his race, but now his eye had become dim, and his natural force abated. very often, indeed, while discussing the best method of baking the hoe-cake, or expatiating at large upon the glory of jackson, he would forget where he left his hat, or his hoe, or his basket; and then would the old man be laughed at, if epps was absent, and whipped if he was present. so was he perplexed continually, and sighed to think that he was growing aged and going to decay. philosophy and jackson and forgetfulness had played the mischief with him, and it was evident that all of them combined were fast bringing down the gray hairs of uncle abram to the grave. aunt phebe had been an excellent field hand, but latterly was put into the kitchen, where she remained, except occasionally, in a time of uncommon hurry. she was a sly old creature, and when not in the presence of her mistress or her master, was garrulous in the extreme. wiley, on the contrary, was silent. he performed his task without murmur or complaint, seldom indulging in the luxury of speech, except to utter a wish, that he was away from epps, and back once more in south carolina. bob and henry had reached the ages of twenty and twenty-three, and were distinguished for nothing extraordinary or unusual, while edward, a lad of thirteen, not yet able to maintain his row in the corn or the cotton field, was kept in the great house, to wait on the little eppses. patsey was slim and straight. she stood erect as the human form is capable of standing. there was an air of loftiness in her movement, that neither labor, nor weariness, nor punishment could destroy. truly, patsey was a splendid animal, and were it not that bondage had enshrouded her intellect in utter and everlasting darkness, would have been chief among ten thousand of her people. she could leap the highest fences, and a fleet hound it was indeed, that could outstrip her in a race. no horse could fling her from his back. she was a skillful teamster. she turned as true a furrow as the best, and at splitting rails there were none who could excel her. when the order to halt was heard at night, she would have her mules at the crib, unharnessed, fed and curried, before uncle abram had found his hat. not, however, for all or any of these, was she chiefly famous. such lightning-like motion was in her fingers as no other fingers ever possessed, and therefore it was, that in cotton picking time, patsey was queen of the field. she had a genial and pleasant temper, and was faithful and obedient. naturally, she was a joyous creature, a laughing, light-hearted girl, rejoicing in the mere sense of existence. yet patsey wept oftener, and suffered more, than any of her companions. she had been literally excoriated. her back bore the scars of a thousand stripes; not because she was backward in her work, nor because she was of an unmindful and rebellious spirit, but because it had fallen to her lot to be the slave of a licentious master and a jealous mistress. she shrank before the lustful eye of the one, and was in danger even of her life at the hands of the other, and between the two, she was indeed accursed. in the great house, for days together, there were high and angry words, poutings and estrangement, whereof she was the innocent cause. nothing delighted the mistress so much as to see her suffer, and more than once, when epps had refused to sell her, has she tempted me with bribes to put her secretly to death, and bury her body in some lonely place in the margin of the swamp. gladly would patsey have appeased this unforgiving spirit, if it had been in her power, but not like joseph, dared she escape from master epps, leaving her garment in his hand. patsey walked under a cloud. if she uttered a word in opposition to her master's will, the lash was resorted to at once, to bring her to subjection; if she was not watchful when about her cabin, or when walking in the yard, a billet of wood, or a broken bottle perhaps, hurled from her mistress' hand, would smite her unexpectedly in the face. the enslaved victim of lust and hate, patsey had no comfort of her life. these were my companions and fellow-slaves, with whom i was accustomed to be driven to the field, and with whom it has been my lot to dwell for ten years in the log cabins of edwin epps. they, if living, are yet toiling on the banks of bayou boeuf, never destined to breathe, as i now do, the blessed air of liberty, nor to shake off the heavy shackles that enthrall them, until they shall lie down forever in the dust. chapter xiv. destruction of the cotton crop in 1845--demand for laborers in st. mary's parish--sent thither in a drove--the order of the march--the grand coteau--hired to judge turner on bayou salle--appointed driver in his sugar house--sunday services slave furniture, how obtained--the party at yarney's in centreville--good fortune--the captain of the steamer--his refusal to secrete me--return to bayou boeuf--sight of tibeats--patsey's sorrows--tumult and contention--hunting the coon and opossum--the cunning of the latter--the lean condition of the slave--description of the fish trap--the murder of the man from natchez--epps challenged by marshall--the influence of slavery--the love of freedom. the first year of epps' residence on the bayou, 1845, the caterpillars almost totally destroyed the cotton crop throughout that region. there was little to be done, so that the slaves were necessarily idle half the time. however, there came a rumor to bayou boeuf that wages were high, and laborers in great demand on the sugar plantations in st. mary's parish. this parish is situated on the coast of the gulf of mexico, about one hundred and forty miles from avoyelles. the rio teche, a considerable stream, flows through st. mary's to the gulf. it was determined by the planters, on the receipt of this intelligence, to make up a drove of slaves to be sent down to tuckapaw in st. mary's, for the purpose of hiring them out in the cane fields. accordingly, in the month of september, there were one hundred and forty-seven collected at holmesville, abram, bob and myself among the number. of these about one-half were women. epps, alonson pierce, henry toler, and addison roberts, were the white men, selected to accompany, and take charge of the drove. they had a two-horse carriage and two saddle horses for their use. a large wagon, drawn by four horses, and driven by john, a boy belonging to mr. roberts, carried the blankets and provisions. about 2 o'clock in the afternoon, having been fed, preparations were made to depart. the duty assigned me was, to take charge of the blankets and provisions, and see that none were lost by the way. the carriage proceeded in advance, the wagon following; behind this the slaves were arranged, while the two horsemen brought up the rear, and in this order the procession moved out of holmesville. that night we reached a mr. mccrow's plantation, a distance of ten or fifteen miles, when we were ordered to halt. large fires were built, and each one spreading his blanket on the ground, laid down upon it. the white men lodged in the great house. an hour before day we were aroused by the drivers coming among us, cracking their whips and ordering us to arise. then the blankets were rolled up, and being severally delivered to me and deposited in the wagon, the procession set forth again. the following night it rained violently. we were all drenched, our clothes saturated with mud and water. reaching an open shed, formerly a gin-house, we found beneath it such shelter as it afforded. there was not room for all of us to lay down. there we remained, huddled together, through the night, continuing our march, as usual, in the morning. during the journey we were fed twice a day, boiling our bacon and baking our corn-cake at the fires in the same manner as in our huts. we passed through lafayetteville, mountsville, new-town, to centreville, where bob and uncle abram were hired. our number decreased as we advanced--nearly every sugar plantation requiring the services of one or more. on our route we passed the grand coteau or prairie, a vast space of level, monotonous country, without a tree, except an occasional one which had been transplanted near some dilapidated dwelling. it was once thickly populated, and under cultivation, but for some cause had been abandoned. the business of the scattered inhabitants that now dwell upon it is principally raising cattle. immense herds were feeding upon it as we passed. in the centre of the grand coteau one feels as if he were on the ocean, out of sight of land. as far as the eye can see, in all directions, it is but a ruined and deserted waste. i was hired to judge turner, a distinguished man and extensive planter, whose large estate is situated on bayou salle, within a few miles of the gulf. bay on salle is a small stream flowing into the bay of atchafalaya. for some days i was employed at turner's in repairing his sugar house, when a cane knife was put into my hand, and with thirty or forty others, i was sent into the field. i found no such difficulty in learning the art of cutting cane that i had in picking cotton. it came to me naturally and intuitively, and in a short time i was able to keep up with the fastest knife. before the cutting was over, however, judge turner transferred me from the field to the sugar house, to act there in the capacity of driver. from the time of the commencement of sugar making to the close, the grinding and boiling does not cease day or night. the whip was given me with directions to use it upon any one who was caught standing idle. if i failed to obey them to the letter, there was another one for my own back. in addition to this my duty was to call on and off the different gangs at the proper time. i had no regular periods of rest, and could never snatch but a few moments of sleep at a time. it is the custom in louisiana, as i presume it is in other slave states, to allow the slave to retain whatever compensation he may obtain for services performed on sundays. in this way, only, are they able to provide themselves with any luxury or convenience whatever. when a slave, purchased, or kidnapped in the north, is transported to a cabin on bayou boeuf he is furnished with neither knife, nor fork, nor dish, nor kettle, nor any other thing in the shape of crockery, or furniture of any nature or description. he is furnished with a blanket before he reaches there, and wrapping that around him, he can either stand up, or lie down upon the ground, or on a board, if his master has no use for it. he is at liberty to find a gourd in which to keep his meal, or he can eat his corn from the cob, just as he pleases. to ask the master for a knife, or skillet, or any small convenience of the kind, would be answered with a kick, or laughed at as a joke. whatever necessary article of this nature is found in a cabin has been purchased with sunday money. however injurious to the morals, it is certainly a blessing to the physical condition of the slave, to be permitted to break the sabbath. otherwise there would be no way to provide himself with any utensils, which seem to be indispensable to him who is compelled to be his own cook. on cane plantations in sugar time, there is no distinction as to the days of the week. it is well understood that all hands must labor on the sabbath, and it is equally well understood that those especially who are hired, as i was to judge turner, and others in succeeding years, shall receive remuneration for it. it is usual, also, in the most hurrying time of cotton-picking, to require the same extra service. from this source, slaves generally are afforded an opportunity of earning sufficient to purchase a knife, a kettle, tobacco and so forth. the females, discarding the latter luxury, are apt to expend their little revenue in the purchase of gaudy ribbons, wherewithal to deck their hair in the merry season of the holidays. i remained in st. mary's until the first of january, during which time my sunday money amounted to ten dollars. i met with other good fortune, for which i was indebted to my violin, my constant companion, the source of profit, and soother of my sorrows during years of servitude. there was a grand party of whites assembled at mr. yarney's, in centreville, a hamlet in the vicinity of turner's plantation. i was employed to play for them, and so well pleased were the merry-makers with my performance, that a contribution was taken for my benefit, which amounted to seventeen dollars. with this sum in possession, i was looked upon by my fellows as a millionaire. it afforded me great pleasure to look at it--to count it over and over again, day after day. visions of cabin furniture, of water pails, of pocket knives, new shoes and coats and hats, floated through my fancy, and up through all rose the triumphant contemplation, that i was the wealthiest "nigger" on bayou boeuf. vessels run up the rio teche to centreville. while there, i was bold enough one day to present myself before the captain of a steamer, and beg permission to hide myself among the freight. i was emboldened to risk the hazard of such a step, from overhearing a conversation, in the course of which i ascertained he was a native of the north. i did not relate to him the particulars of my history, but only expressed an ardent desire to escape from slavery to a free state. he pitied me, but said it would be impossible to avoid the vigilant custom house officers in new-orleans, and that detection would subject him to punishment, and his vessel to confiscation. my earnest entreaties evidently excited his sympathies, and doubtless he would have yielded to them, could he have done so with any kind of safety. i was compelled to smother the sudden flame that lighted up my bosom with sweet hopes of liberation, and turn my steps once more towards the increasing darkness of despair. immediately after this event the drove assembled at centreville, and several of the owners having arrived and collected the monies due for our services, we were driven back to bayou boeuf. it was on our return, while passing through a small village, that i caught sight of tibeats, seated in the door of a dirty grocery, looking somewhat seedy and out of repair. passion and poor whisky, i doubt not, have ere this laid him on the shelf. during our absence, i learned from aunt phebe and patsey, that the latter had been getting deeper and deeper into trouble. the poor girl was truly an object of pity. "old hogjaw," the name by which epps was called, when the slaves were by themselves, had beaten her more severely and frequently than ever. as surely as he came from holmesville, elated with liquor--and it was often in those days--he would whip her, merely to gratify the mistress; would punish her to an extent almost beyond endurance, for an offence of which he himself was the sole and irresistible cause. in his sober moments he could not always be prevailed upon to indulge his wife's insatiable thirst for vengeance. to be rid of patsey--to place her beyond sight or reach, by sale, or death, or in any other manner, of late years, seemed to be the ruling thought and passion of my mistress. patsey had been a favorite when a child, even in the great house. she had been petted and admired for her uncommon sprightliness and pleasant disposition. she had been fed many a time, so uncle abram said, even on biscuit and milk, when the madam, in her younger days, was wont to call her to the piazza, and fondle her as she would a playful kitten. but a sad change had come over the spirit of the woman. now, only black and angry fiends ministered in the temple of her heart, until she could look on patsey but with concentrated venom. mistress epps was not naturally such an evil woman, after all. she was possessed of the devil, jealousy, it is true, but aside from that, there was much in her character to admire. her father, mr. roberts, resided in cheneyville, an influential and honorable man, and as much respected throughout the parish as any other citizen. she had been well educated at some institution this side the mississippi; was beautiful, accomplished, and usually good-humored. she was kind to all of us but patsey--frequently, in the absence of her husband, sending out to us some little dainty from her own table. in other situations--in a different society from that which exists on the shores of bayou boeuf, she would have been pronounced an elegant and fascinating woman. an ill wind it was that blew her into the arms of epps. he respected and loved his wife as much as a coarse nature like his is capable of loving, but supreme selfishness always overmastered conjugal affection. "he loved as well as baser natures can, but a mean heart and soul were in that man." he was ready to gratify any whim--to grant any request she made, provided it did not cost too much. patsey was equal to any two of his slaves in the cotton field. he could not replace her with the same money she would bring. the idea of disposing of her, therefore, could not be entertained. the mistress did not regard her at all in that light. the pride of the haughty woman was aroused; the blood of the fiery southern boiled at the sight of patsey, and nothing less than trampling out the life of the helpless bondwoman would satisfy her. sometimes the current of her wrath turned upon him whom she had just cause to hate. but the storm of angry words would pass over at length, and there would be a season of calm again. at such times patsey trembled with fear, and cried as if her heart would break, for she knew from painful experience, that if mistress should work herself to the red-hot pitch of rage, epps would quiet her at last with a promise that patsey should be flogged--a promise he was sure to keep. thus did pride, and jealousy, and vengeance war with avarice and brute-passion in the mansion of my master, filling it with daily tumult and contention. thus, upon the head of patsey--the simple-minded slave, in whose heart god had implanted the seeds of virtue--the force of all these domestic tempests spent itself at last. during the summer succeeding my return from st. mary's parish, i conceived a plan of providing myself with food, which, though simple, succeeded beyond expectation. it has been followed by many others in my condition, up and down the bayou, and of such benefit has it become that i am almost persuaded to look upon myself as a benefactor. that summer the worms got into the bacon. nothing but ravenous hunger could induce us to swallow it. the weekly allowance of meal scarcely sufficed to satisfy us. it was customary with us, as it is with all in that region, where the allowance is exhausted before saturday night, or is in such a state as to render it nauseous and disgusting, to hunt in the swamps for coon and opossum. this, however, must be done at night, after the day's work is accomplished. there are planters whose slaves, for months at a time, have no other meat than such as is obtained in this manner. no objections are made to hunting, inasmuch as it dispenses with drafts upon the smoke-house, and because every marauding coon that is killed is so much saved from the standing corn. they are hunted with dogs and clubs, slaves not being allowed the use of fire-arms. the flesh of the coon is palatable, but verily there is nothing in all butcherdom so delicious as a roasted 'possum. they are a round, rather long-bodied, little animal, of a whitish color, with nose like a pig, and caudal extremity like a rat. they burrow among the roots and in the hollows of the gum tree, and are clumsy and slow of motion. they are deceitful and cunning creatures. on receiving the slightest tap of a stick, they will roll over on the ground and feign death. if the hunter leaves him, in pursuit of another, without first taking particular pains to break his neck, the chances are, on his return, he is not to be found. the little animal has out witted the enemy--has "played 'possum"--and is off. but after a long and hard day's work, the weary slave feels little like going to the swamp for his supper, and half the time prefers throwing himself on the cabin floor without it. it is for the interest of the master that the servant should not suffer in health from starvation, and it is also for his interest that he should not become gross from over-feeding. in the estimation of the owner, a slave is the most serviceable when in rather a lean and lank condition, such a condition as the race-horse is in, when fitted for the course, and in that condition they are generally to be found on the sugar and cotton plantations along red river. my cabin was within a few rods of the bayou bank, and necessity being indeed the mother of invention, i resolved upon a mode of obtaining the requisite amount of food, without the trouble of resorting nightly to the woods. this was to construct a fish trap. having, in my mind, conceived the manner in which it could be done, the next sunday i set about putting it into practical execution. it may be impossible for me to convey to the reader a full and correct idea of its construction, but the following will serve as a general description: a frame between two and three feet square is made, and of a greater or less height, according to the depth of water. boards or slats are nailed on three sides of this frame, not so closely, however, as to prevent the water circulating freely through it. a door is fitted into the fourth side, in such manner that it will slide easily up and down in the grooves cut in the two posts. a movable bottom is then so fitted that it can be raised to the top of the frame without difficulty. in the centre of the movable bottom an auger hole is bored, and into this one end of a handle or round stick is fastened on the under side so loosely that it will turn. the handle ascends from the centre of the movable bottom to the top of the frame, or as much higher as is desirable. up and down this handle, in a great many places, are gimlet holes, through which small sticks are inserted, extending to opposite sides of the frame. so many of these small sticks are running out from the handle in all directions, that a fish of any considerable dimensions cannot pass through without hitting one of them. the frame is then placed in the water and made stationary. the trap is "set" by sliding or drawing up the door, and kept in that position by another stick, one end of which rests in a notch on the inner side, the other end in a notch made in the handle, running up from the centre of the movable bottom. the trap is baited by rolling a handful of wet meal and cotton together until it becomes hard, and depositing it in the back part of the frame. a fish swimming through the upraised door towards the bait, necessarily strikes one of the small sticks turning the handle, which displacing the stick supporting the door, the latter falls, securing the fish within the frame. taking hold of the top of the handle, the movable bottom is then drawn up to the surface of the water, and the fish taken out. there may have been other such traps in use before mine was constructed, but if there were i had never happened to see one. bayou boeuf abounds in fish of large size and excellent quality, and after this time i was very rarely in want of one for myself, or for my comrades. thus a mine was opened--a new resource was developed, hitherto unthought of by the enslaved children of africa, who toil and hunger along the shores of that sluggish, but prolific stream. about the time of which i am now writing, an event occurred in our immediate neighborhood, which made a deep impression upon me, and which shows the state of society existing there, and the manner in which affronts are oftentimes avenged. directly opposite our quarters, on the other side of the bayou, was situated the plantation of mr. marshall. he belonged to a family among the most wealthy and aristocratic in the country. a gentleman from the vicinity of natchez had been negotiating with him for the purchase of the estate. one day a messenger came in great haste to our plantation, saying that a bloody and fearful battle was going on at marshall's--that blood had been spilled--and unless the combatants were forthwith separated, the result would be disastrous. on repairing to marshall's house, a scene presented itself that beggars description. on the floor of one of the rooms lay the ghastly corpse of the man from natchez, while marshall, enraged and covered with wounds and blood, was stalking back and forth, "breathing out threatenings and slaughter." a difficulty had arisen in the course of their negotiation, high words ensued, when drawing their weapons, the deadly strife began that ended so unfortunately. marshall was never placed in confinement. a sort of trial or investigation was had at marksville, when he was acquitted, and returned to his plantation, rather more respected, as i thought, than ever, from the fact that the blood of a fellow being was on his soul. epps interested himself in his behalf, accompanying him to marksville, and on all occasions loudly justifying him, but his services in this respect did not afterwards deter a kinsman of this same marshall from seeking his life also. a brawl occurred between them over a gambling-table, which terminated in a deadly feud. riding up on horseback in front of the house one day, armed with pistols and bowie knife, marshall challenged him to come forth and make a final settlement of the quarrel, or he would brand him as a coward, and shoot him like a dog the first opportunity. not through cowardice, nor from any conscientious scruples, in my opinion, but through the influence of his wife, he was restrained from accepting the challenge of his enemy. a reconciliation, however, was effected afterward, since which time they have been on terms of the closest intimacy. such occurrences, which would bring upon the parties concerned in them merited and condign punishment in the northern states, are frequent on the bayou, and pass without notice, and almost without comment. every man carries his bowie knife, and when two fall out, they set to work hacking and thrusting at each other, more like savages than civilized and enlightened beings. the existence of slavery in its most cruel form among them, has a tendency to brutalize the humane and finer feelings of their nature. daily witnesses of human suffering--listening to the agonizing screeches of the slave--beholding him writhing beneath the merciless lash--bitten and torn by dogs--dying without attention, and buried without shroud or coffin--it cannot otherwise be expected, than that they should become brutified and reckless of human life. it is true there are many kind-hearted and good men in the parish of avoyelles--such men as william ford--who can look with pity upon the sufferings of a slave, just as there are, over all the world, sensitive and sympathetic spirits, who cannot look with indifference upon the sufferings of any creature which the almighty has endowed with life. it is not the fault of the slaveholder that he is cruel, so much as it is the fault of the system under which he lives. he cannot withstand the influence of habit and associations that surround him. taught from earliest childhood, by all that he sees and hears, that the rod is for the slave's back, he will not be apt to change his opinions in maturer years. there may be humane masters, as there certainly are inhuman ones--there may be slaves well-clothed, well-fed, and happy, as there surely are those half-clad, half-starved and miserable; nevertheless, the institution that tolerates such wrong and inhumanity as i have witnessed, is a cruel, unjust, and barbarous one. men may write fictions portraying lowly life as it is, or as it is not--may expatiate with owlish gravity upon the bliss of ignorance--discourse flippantly from arm chairs of the pleasures of slave life; but let them toil with him in the field--sleep with him in the cabin--feed with him on husks; let them behold him scourged, hunted, trampled on, and they will come back with another story in their mouths. let them know the _heart_ of the poor slave--learn his secret thoughts--thoughts he dare not utter in the hearing of the white man; let them sit by him in the silent watches of the night--converse with him in trustful confidence, of "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness," and they will find that ninety-nine out of every hundred are intelligent enough to understand their situation, and to cherish in their bosoms the love of freedom, as passionately as themselves. chapter xv. labors on sugar plantations--the mode of planting cane--of hoeing cane--cane ricks--cutting cane--description of the cane knife--winrowing--preparing for succeeding crops--description of hawkins' sugar mill on bayou boeuf--the christmas holidays--the carnival season of the children of bondage--the christmas supper--red, the favorite color--the violin, and the consolation it afforded--the christmas dance--lively, the coquette--sam roberts, and his rivals--slave songs--southern life as it is--three days in the year--the system of marriage--uncle abram's contempt of matrimony. in consequence of my inability in cotton-picking, epps was in the habit of hiring me out on sugar plantations during the season of cane-cutting and sugar-making. he received for my services a dollar a day, with the money supplying my place on his cotton plantation. cutting cane was an employment that suited me, and for three successive years i held the lead row at hawkins', leading a gang of from fifty to an hundred hands. in a previous chapter the mode of cultivating cotton is described. this may be the proper place to speak of the manner of cultivating cane. the ground is prepared in beds, the same as it is prepared for the reception of the cotton seed, except it is ploughed deeper. drills are made in the same manner. planting commences in january, and continues until april. it is necessary to plant a sugar field only once in three years. three crops are taken before the seed or plant is exhausted. three gangs are employed in the operation. one draws the cane from the rick, or stack, cutting the top and flags from the stalk, leaving only that part which is sound and healthy. each joint of the cane has an eye, like the eye of a potato, which sends forth a sprout when buried in the soil. another gang lays the cane in the drill, placing two stalks side by side in such manner that joints will occur once in four or six inches. the third gang follows with hoes, drawing earth upon the stalks, and covering them to the depth, of three inches. in four weeks, at the farthest, the sprouts appear above the ground, and from this time forward grow with great rapidity. a sugar field is hoed three times, the same as cotton, save that a greater quantity of earth is drawn to the roots. by the first of august hoeing is usually over. about the middle of september, whatever is required for seed is cut and stacked in ricks, as they are termed. in october it is ready for the mill or sugar-house, and then the general cutting begins. the blade of a cane-knife is fifteen inches long, three inches wide in the middle, and tapering towards the point and handle. the blade is thin, and in order to be at all serviceable must be kept very sharp. every third hand takes the lead of two others, one of whom is on each side of him. the lead hand, in the first place, with a blow of his knife shears the flags from the stalk. he next cuts off the top down as far as it is green. he must be careful to sever all the green from the ripe part, inasmuch as the juice of the former sours the molasses, and renders it unsalable. then he severs the stalk at the root, and lays it directly behind him. his right and left hand companions lay their stalks, when cut in the same manner, upon his. to every three hands there is a cart, which follows, and the stalks are thrown into it by the younger slaves, when it is drawn to the sugar-house and ground. if the planter apprehends a frost, the cane is winrowed. winrowing is the cutting the stalks at an early period and throwing them lengthwise in the water furrow in such a manner that the tops will cover the butts of the stalks. they will remain in this condition three weeks or a month without souring, and secure from frost. when the proper time arrives, they are taken up, trimmed and carted to the sugar-house. in the month of january the slaves enter the field again to prepare for another crop. the ground is now strewn with the tops, and flags cut from the past year's cane. on a dry day fire is set to this combustible refuse, which sweeps over the field, leaving it bare and clean, and ready for the hoes. the earth is loosened about the roots of the old stubble, and in process of time another crop springs up from the last year's seed. it is the same the year following; but the third year the seed has exhausted its strength, and the field must be ploughed and planted again. the second year the cane is sweeter and yields more than the first, and the third year more than the second. during the three seasons i labored on hawkins' plantation, i was employed a considerable portion of the time in the sugar-house. he is celebrated as the producer of the finest variety of white sugar. the following is a general description of his sugar-house and the process of manufacture: the mill is an immense brick building, standing on the shore of the bayou. running out from the building is an open shed, at least an hundred feet in length and forty or fifty feet in width. the boiler in which the steam is generated is situated outside the main building; the machinery and engine rest on a brick pier, fifteen feet above the floor, within the body of the building. the machinery turns two great iron rollers, between two and three feet in diameter and six or eight feet in length. they are elevated above the brick pier, and roll in towards each other. an endless carrier, made of chain and wood, like leathern belts used in small mills, extends from the iron rollers out of the main building and through the entire length of the open shed. the carts in which the cane is brought from the field as fast as it is cut, are unloaded at the sides of the shed. all along the endless carrier are ranged slave children, whose business it is to place the cane upon it, when it is conveyed through the shed into the main building, where it falls between the rollers, is crushed, and drops upon another carrier that conveys it out of the main building in an opposite direction, depositing it in the top of a chimney upon a fire beneath, which consumes it. it is necessary to burn it in this manner, because otherwise it would soon fill the building, and more especially because it would soon sour and engender disease. the juice of the cane falls into a conductor underneath the iron rollers, and is carried into a reservoir. pipes convey it from thence into five filterers, holding several hogsheads each. these filterers are filled with bone-black, a substance resembling pulverized charcoal. it is made of bones calcinated in close vessels, and is used for the purpose of decolorizing, by filtration, the cane juice before boiling. through these five filterers it passes in succession, and then runs into a large reservoir underneath the ground floor, from whence it is carried up, by means of a steam pump, into a clarifier made of sheet iron, where it is heated by steam until it boils. from the first clarifier it is carried in pipes to a second and a third, and thence into close iron pans, through which tubes pass, filled with steam. while in a boiling state it flows through three pans in succession, and is then carried in other pipes down to the coolers on the ground floor. coolers are wooden boxes with sieve bottoms made of the finest wire. as soon as the syrup passes into the coolers, and is met by the air, it grains, and the molasses at once escapes through the sieves into a cistern below. it is then white or loaf sugar of the finest kind--clear, clean, and as white as snow. when cool, it is taken out, packed in hogsheads, and is ready for market. the molasses is then carried from the cistern into the upper story again, and by another process converted into brown sugar. there are larger mills, and those constructed differently from the one thus imperfectly described, but none, perhaps, more celebrated than this anywhere on bayou boeuf. lambert, of new-orleans, is a partner of hawkins. he is a man of vast wealth, holding, as i have been told, an interest in over forty different sugar plantations in louisiana. * * * * * the only respite from constant labor the slave has through the whole year, is during the christmas holidays. epps allowed us three--others allow four, five and six days, according to the measure of their generosity. it is the only time to which they look forward with any interest or pleasure. they are glad when night comes, not only because it brings them a few hours repose, but because it brings them one day nearer christmas. it is hailed with equal delight by the old and the young; even uncle abram ceases to glorify andrew jackson, and patsey forgets her many sorrows, amid the general hilarity of the holidays. it is the time of feasting, and frolicking, and fiddling--the carnival season with the children of bondage. they are the only days when they are allowed a little restricted liberty, and heartily indeed do they enjoy it. it is the custom for one planter to give a "christmas supper," inviting the slaves from neighboring plantations to join his own on the occasion; for instance, one year it is given by epps, the next by marshall, the next by hawkins, and so on. usually from three to five hundred are assembled, coming together on foot, in carts, on horseback, on mules, riding double and triple, sometimes a boy and girl, at others a girl and two boys, and at others again a boy, a girl and an old woman. uncle abram astride a mule, with aunt phebe and patsey behind him, trotting towards a christmas supper, would be no uncommon sight on bayou boeuf. then, too, "of all days i' the year," they array themselves in their best attire. the cotton coat has been washed clean, the stump of a tallow candle has been applied to the shoes, and if so fortunate as to possess a rimless or a crownless hat, it is placed jauntily on the head. they are welcomed with equal cordiality, however, if they come bare-headed and barefooted to the feast. as a general thing, the women wear handkerchiefs tied about their heads, but if chance has thrown in their way a fiery red ribbon, or a cast-off bonnet of their mistress' grandmother, it is sure to be worn on such occasions. red--the deep blood red--is decidedly the favorite color among the enslaved damsels of my acquaintance. if a red ribbon does not encircle the neck, you will be certain to find all the hair of their woolly heads tied up with red strings of one sort or another. the table is spread in the open air, and loaded with varieties of meat and piles of vegetables. bacon and corn meal at such times are dispensed with. sometimes the cooking is performed in the kitchen on the plantation, at others in the shade of wide branching trees. in the latter case, a ditch is dug in the ground, and wood laid in and burned until it is filled with glowing coals, over which chickens, ducks, turkeys, pigs, and not unfrequently the entire body of a wild ox, are roasted. they are furnished also with flour, of which biscuits are made, and often with peach and other preserves, with tarts, and every manner and description of pies, except the mince, that being an article of pastry as yet unknown among them. only the slave who has lived all the years on his scanty allowance of meal and bacon, can appreciate such suppers. white people in great numbers assemble to witness the gastronomical enjoyments. they seat themselves at the rustic table--the males on one side, the females on the other. the two between whom there may have been an exchange of tenderness, invariably manage to sit opposite; for the omnipresent cupid disdains not to hurl his arrows into the simple hearts of slaves. unalloyed and exulting happiness lights up the dark faces of them all. the ivory teeth, contrasting with their black complexions, exhibit two long, white streaks the whole extent of the table. all round the bountiful board a multitude of eyes roll in ecstacy. giggling and laughter and the clattering of cutlery and crockery succeed. cuffee's elbow hunches his neighbor's side, impelled by an involuntary impulse of delight; nelly shakes her finger at sambo and laughs, she knows not why, and so the fun and merriment flows on. when the viands have disappeared, and the hungry maws of the children of toil are satisfied, then, next in the order of amusement, is the christmas dance. my business on these gala days always was to play on the violin. the african race is a music-loving one, proverbially; and many there were among my fellow-bondsmen whose organs of tune were strikingly developed, and who could thumb the banjo with dexterity; but at the expense of appearing egotistical, i must, nevertheless, declare, that i was considered the ole bull of bayou boeuf. my master often received letters, sometimes from a distance of ten miles, requesting him to send me to play at a ball or festival of the whites. he received his compensation, and usually i also returned with many picayunes jingling in my pockets--the extra contributions of those to whose delight i had administered. in this manner i became more acquainted than i otherwise would, up and down the bayou. the young men and maidens of holmesville always knew there was to be a jollification somewhere, whenever platt epps was seen passing through the town with his fiddle in his hand. "where are you going now, platt?" and "what is coming off to-night, platt?" would be interrogatories issuing from every door and window, and many a time when there was no special hurry, yielding to pressing importunities, platt would draw his bow, and sitting astride his mule, perhaps, discourse musically to a crowd of delighted children, gathered around him in the street. alas! had it not been for my beloved violin, i scarcely can conceive how i could have endured the long years of bondage. it introduced me to great houses--relieved me of many days' labor in the field--supplied me with conveniences for my cabin--with pipes and tobacco, and extra pairs of shoes, and oftentimes led me away from the presence of a hard master, to witness scenes of jollity and mirth. it was my companion--the friend of my bosom--triumphing loudly when i was joyful, and uttering its soft, melodious consolations when i was sad. often, at midnight, when sleep had fled affrighted from the cabin, and my soul was disturbed and troubled with the contemplation of my fate, it would sing me a song of peace. on holy sabbath days, when an hour or two of leisure was allowed, it would accompany me to some quiet place on the bayou bank, and, lifting up its voice, discourse kindly and pleasantly indeed. it heralded my name round the country--made me friends, who, otherwise would not have noticed me--gave me an honored seat at the yearly feasts, and secured the loudest and heartiest welcome of them all at the christmas dance. the christmas dance! oh, ye pleasure-seeking sons and daughters of idleness, who move with measured step, listless and snail-like, through the slow-winding cotillon, if ye wish to look upon the celerity, if not the "poetry of motion"--upon genuine happiness, rampant and unrestrained--go down to louisiana, and see the slaves dancing in the starlight of a christmas night. on that particular christmas i have now in my mind, a description whereof will serve as a description of the day generally, miss lively and mr. sam, the first belonging to stewart, the latter to roberts, started the ball. it was well known that sam cherished an ardent passion for lively, as also did one of marshall's and another of carey's boys; for lively was _lively_ indeed, and a heart-breaking coquette withal. it was a victory for sam roberts, when, rising from the repast, she gave him her hand for the first "figure" in preference to either of his rivals. they were somewhat crest-fallen, and, shaking their heads angrily, rather intimated they would like to pitch into mr. sam and hurt him badly. but not an emotion of wrath ruffled the placid bosom of samuel, as his legs flew like drum-sticks down the outside and up the middle, by the side of his bewitching partner. the whole company cheered them vociferously, and, excited with the applause, they continued "tearing down" after all the others had become exhausted and halted a moment to recover breath. but sam's superhuman exertions overcame him finally, leaving lively alone, yet whirling like a top. thereupon one of sam's rivals, pete marshall, dashed in, and, with might and main, leaped and shuffled and threw himself into every conceivable shape, as if determined to show miss lively and all the world that sam roberts was of no account. pete's affection, however, was greater than his discretion. such violent exercise took the breath out of him directly, and he dropped like an empty bag. then was the time for harry carey to try his hand; but lively also soon out-winded him, amidst hurrahs and shouts, fully sustaining her well-earned reputation of being the "fastest gal" on the bayou. one "set" off, another takes its place, he or she remaining longest on the floor receiving the most uproarious commendation, and so the dancing continues until broad daylight. it does not cease with the sound of the fiddle, but in that case they set up a music peculiar to themselves. this is called "patting," accompanied with one of those unmeaning songs, composed rather for its adaptation to a certain tune or measure, than for the purpose of expressing any distinct idea. the patting is performed by striking the hands on the knees, then striking the hands together, then striking the right shoulder with one hand, the left with the other--all the while keeping time with the feet, and singing, perhaps, this song: "harper's creek and roarin' ribber, thar, my dear, we'll live forebber; den we'll go to de ingin nation, all i want in dis creation, is pretty little wife and big plantation. _chorus._ up dat oak and down dat ribber, two overseers and one little nigger." or, if these words are not adapted to the tune called for, it may be that "old hog eye" _is_--a rather solemn and startling specimen of versification, not, however, to be appreciated unless heard at the south. it runneth as follows: "who's been here since i've been gone? pretty little gal wid a josey on. hog eye! old hog eye, and hosey too! never see de like since i was born, here come a little gal wid a josey on. hog eye! old hog eye! and hosey too!" or, may be the following, perhaps, equally nonsensical, but full of melody, nevertheless, as it flows from the negro's mouth: "ebo dick and jurdan's jo, them two niggers stole my yo'. _chorus._ hop jim along, walk jim along, talk jim along," &c. old black dan, as black as tar, he dam glad he was not dar. hop jim along," &c. during the remaining holidays succeeding christmas, they are provided with passes, and permitted to go where they please within a limited distance, or they may remain and labor on the plantation, in which case they are paid for it. it is very rarely, however, that the latter alternative is accepted. they may be seen at these times hurrying in all directions, as happy looking mortals as can be found on the face of the earth. they are different beings from what they are in the field; the temporary relaxation, the brief deliverance from fear, and from the lash, producing an entire metamorphosis in their appearance and demeanor. in visiting, riding, renewing old friendships, or, perchance, reviving some old attachment, or pursuing whatever pleasure may suggest itself, the time is occupied. such is "southern life as it is," _three days in the year_, as i found it--the other three hundred and sixty-two being days of weariness, and fear, and suffering, and unremitting labor. marriage is frequently contracted during the holidays, if such an institution may be said to exist among them. the only ceremony required before entering into that "holy estate," is to obtain the consent of the respective owners. it is usually encouraged by the masters of female slaves. either party can have as many husbands or wives as the owner will permit, and either is at liberty to discard the other at pleasure. the law in relation to divorce, or to bigamy, and so forth, is not applicable to property, of course. if the wife does not belong on the same plantation with the husband, the latter is permitted to visit her on saturday nights, if the distance is not too far. uncle abram's wife lived seven miles from epps', on bayou huff power. he had permission to visit her once a fortnight, but he was growing old, as has been said, and truth to say, had latterly well nigh forgotten her. uncle abram had no time to spare from his meditations on general jackson--connubial dalliance being well enough for the young and thoughtless, but unbecoming a grave and solemn philosopher like himself. chapter xvi. overseers--how they are armed and accompanied--the homicide--his execution at marksville--slave-drivers--appointed driver on removing to bayou boeuf--practice makes perfect--epps' attempt to cut platt's throat--the escape from him--protected by the mistress--forbids reading and writing--obtain a sheet of paper after nine years' effort--the letter--armsby, the mean white--partially confide in him--his treachery--epps' suspicions--how they were quieted--burning the letter--armsby leaves the bayou--disappointment and despair. with the exception of my trip to st. mary's parish, and my absence during the cane-cutting seasons, i was constantly employed on the plantation of master epps. he was considered but a small planter, not having a sufficient number of hands to require the services of an overseer, acting in the latter capacity himself. not able to increase his force, it was his custom to hire during the hurry of cotton-picking. on larger estates, employing fifty or a hundred, or perhaps two hundred hands, an overseer is deemed indispensable. these gentlemen ride into the field on horseback, without an exception, to my knowledge, armed with pistols, bowie knife, whip, and accompanied by several dogs. they follow, equipped in this fashion, in rear of the slaves, keeping a sharp lookout upon them all. the requisite qualifications in an overseer are utter heartlessness, brutality and cruelty. it is his business to produce large crops, and if that is accomplished, no matter what amount of suffering it may have cost. the presence of the dogs are necessary to overhaul a fugitive who may take to his heels, as is sometimes the case, when faint or sick, he is unable to maintain his row, and unable, also, to endure the whip. the pistols are reserved for any dangerous emergency, there having been instances when such weapons were necessary. goaded into uncontrollable madness, even the slave will sometimes turn upon his oppressor. the gallows were standing at marksville last january, upon which one was executed a year ago for killing his overseer. it occurred not many miles from epps' plantation on red river. the slave was given his task at splitting rails. in the course of the day the overseer sent him on an errand, which occupied so much time that it was not possible for him to perform the task. the next day he was called to an account, but the loss of time occasioned by the errand was no excuse, and he was ordered to kneel and bare his back for the reception of the lash. they were in the woods alone--beyond the reach of sight or hearing. the boy submitted until maddened at such injustice, and insane with pain, he sprang to his feet, and seizing an axe, literally chopped the overseer in pieces. he made no attempt whatever at concealment, but hastening to his master, related the whole affair, and declared himself ready to expiate the wrong by the sacrifice of his life. he was led to the scaffold, and while the rope was around his neck, maintained an undismayed and fearless bearing, and with his last words justified the act. besides the overseer, there are drivers under him, the number being in proportion to the number of hands in the field. the drivers are black, who, in addition to the performance of their equal share of work, are compelled to do the whipping of their several gangs. whips hang around their necks, and if they fail to use them thoroughly, are whipped themselves. they have a few privileges, however; for example, in cane-cutting the hands are not allowed to sit down long enough to eat their dinners. carts filled with corn cake, cooked at the kitchen, are driven into the field at noon. the cake is distributed by the drivers, and must be eaten with the least possible delay. when the slave ceases to perspire, as he often does when taxed beyond his strength, he falls to the ground and becomes entirely helpless. it is then the duty of the driver to drag him into the shade of the standing cotton or cane, or of a neighboring tree, where he dashes buckets of water upon him, and uses other means of bringing out perspiration again, when he is ordered to his place, and compelled to continue his labor. at huff power, when i first came to epps', tom, one of roberts' negroes, was driver. he was a burly fellow, and severe in the extreme. after epps' removal to bayou boeuf, that distinguished honor was conferred upon myself. up to the time of my departure i had to wear a whip about my neck in the field. if epps was present, i dared not show any lenity, not having the christian fortitude of a certain well-known uncle tom sufficiently to brave his wrath, by refusing to perform the office. in that way, only, i escaped the immediate martyrdom he suffered, and, withal, saved my companions much suffering, as it proved in the end. epps, i soon found, whether actually in the field or not, had his eyes pretty generally upon us. from the piazza, from behind some adjacent tree, or other concealed point of observation, he was perpetually on the watch. if one of us had been backward or idle through the day, we were apt to be told all about it on returning to the quarters, and as it was a matter of principle with him to reprove every offence of that kind that came within his knowledge, the offender not only was certain of receiving a castigation for his tardiness, but i likewise was punished for permitting it. if, on the other hand, he had seen me use the lash freely, the man was satisfied. "practice makes perfect," truly; and during my eight years' experience as a driver, i learned to handle the whip with marvelous dexterity and precision, throwing the lash within a hair's breadth of the back, the ear, the nose, without, however, touching either of them. if epps was observed at a distance, or we had reason to apprehend he was sneaking somewhere in the vicinity, i would commence plying the lash vigorously, when, according to arrangement, they would squirm and screech as if in agony, although not one of them had in fact been even grazed. patsey would take occasion, if he made his appearance presently, to mumble in his hearing some complaints that platt was lashing them the whole time, and uncle abram, with an appearance of honesty peculiar to himself, would declare roundly i had just whipped them worse than general jackson whipped the enemy at new-orleans. if epps was not drunk, and in one of his beastly humors, this was, in general, satisfactory. if he was, some one or more of us must suffer, as a matter of course. sometimes his violence assumed a dangerous form, placing the lives of his human stock in jeopardy. on one occasion the drunken madman thought to amuse himself by cutting my throat. he had been absent at holmesville, in attendance at a shooting-match, and none of us were aware of his return. while hoeing by the side of patsey, she exclaimed, in a low voice, suddenly, "platt, d'ye see old hog-jaw beckoning me to come to him?" glancing sideways, i discovered him in the edge of the field, motioning and grimacing, as was his habit when half-intoxicated. aware of his lewd intentions, patsey began to cry. i whispered her not to look up, and to continue at her work, as if she had not observed him. suspecting the truth of the matter, however, he soon staggered up to me in a great rage. "what did you say to pats?" he demanded, with an oath. i made him some evasive answer, which only had the effect of increasing his violence. "how long have you owned this plantation, _say_, you d----d nigger?" he inquired, with a malicious sneer, at the same time taking hold of my shirt collar with one hand, and thrusting the other into his pocket. "now i'll cut your black throat; that's what i'll do," drawing his knife from his pocket as he said it. but with one hand he was unable to open it, until finally seizing the blade in his teeth, i saw he was about to succeed, and felt the necessity of escaping from him, for in his present reckless state, it was evident he was not joking, by any means. my shirt was open in front, and as i turned round quickly and sprang from him, while he still retained his gripe, it was stripped entirely from my back. there was no difficulty now in eluding him. he would chase me until out of breath, then stop until it was recovered, swear, and renew the chase again. now he would command me to come to him, now endeavor to coax me, but i was careful to keep at a respectful distance. in this manner we made the circuit of the field several times, he making desperate plunges, and i always dodging them, more amused than frightened, well knowing that when his sober senses returned, he would laugh at his own drunken folly. at length i observed the mistress standing by the yard fence, watching our half-serious, half-comical manoeuvres. shooting past him, i ran directly to her. epps, on discovering her, did not follow. he remained about the field an hour or more, during which time i stood by the mistress, having related the particulars of what had taken place. now, _she_ was aroused again, denouncing her husband and patsey about equally. finally, epps came towards the house, by this time nearly sober, walking demurely, with his hands behind his back, and attempting to look as innocent as a child. as he approached, nevertheless, mistress epps began to berate him roundly, heaping upon him many rather disrespectful epithets, and demanding for what reason he had attempted to cut my throat. epps made wondrous strange of it all, and to my surprise, swore by all the saints in the calendar he had not spoken to me that day. "platt, you lying nigger, _have_ i?" was his brazen appeal to me. it is not safe to contradict a master, even by the assertion of a truth. so i was silent, and when he entered the house i returned to the field, and the affair was never after alluded to. shortly after this time a circumstance occurred that came nigh divulging the secret of my real name and history, which i had so long and carefully concealed, and upon which i was convinced depended my final escape. soon after he purchased me, epps asked me if i could write and read, and on being informed that i had received some instruction in those branches of education, he assured me, with emphasis, if he ever caught me with a book, or with pen and ink, he would give me a hundred lashes. he said he wanted me to understand that he bought "niggers" to work and not to educate. he never inquired a word of my past life, or from whence i came. the mistress, however, cross-examined me frequently about washington, which she supposed was my native city, and more than once remarked that i did not talk nor act like the other "niggers," and she was sure i had seen more of the world than i admitted. my great object always was to invent means of getting a letter secretly into the post-office, directed to some of my friends or family at the north. the difficulty of such an achievement cannot be comprehended by one unacquainted with the severe restrictions imposed upon me. in the first place, i was deprived of pen, ink, and paper. in the second place, a slave cannot leave his plantation without a pass, nor will a post-master mail a letter for one without written instructions from his owner. i was in slavery nine years, and always watchful and on the alert, before i met with the good fortune of obtaining a sheet of paper. while epps was in new-orleans, one winter, disposing of his cotton, the mistress sent me to holmesville, with an order for several articles, and among the rest a quantity of foolscap. i appropriated a sheet, concealing it in the cabin, under the board on which i slept. after various experiments i succeeded in making ink, by boiling white maple bark, and with a feather plucked from the wing of a duck, manufactured a pen. when all were asleep in the cabin, by the light of the coals, lying upon my plank couch, i managed to complete a somewhat lengthy epistle. it was directed to an old acquaintance at sandy hill, stating my condition, and urging him to take measures to restore me to liberty. this letter i kept a long time, contriving measures by which it could be safely deposited in the post-office. at length, a low fellow, by the name of armsby, hitherto a stranger, came into the neighborhood, seeking a situation as overseer. he applied to epps, and was about the plantation for several days. he next went over to shaw's, near by, and remained with him several weeks. shaw was generally surrounded by such worthless characters, being himself noted as a gambler and unprincipled man. he had made a wife of his slave charlotte, and a brood of young mulattoes were growing up in his house. armsby became so much reduced at last, that he was compelled to labor with the slaves. a white man working in the field is a rare and unusual spectacle on bayou boeuf. i improved every opportunity of cultivating his acquaintance privately, desiring to obtain his confidence so far as to be willing to intrust the letter to his keeping. he visited marksville repeatedly, he informed me, a town some twenty miles distant, and there, i proposed to myself, the letter should be mailed. carefully deliberating on the most proper manner of approaching him on the subject, i concluded finally to ask him simply if he would deposit a letter for me in the marksville post-office the next time he visited that place, without disclosing to him that the letter was written, or any of the particulars it contained; for i had fears that he might betray me, and knew that some inducement must be held out to him of a pecuniary nature, before it would be safe to confide in him. as late as one o'clock one night i stole noiselessly from my cabin, and, crossing the field to shaw's, found him sleeping on the piazza. i had but a few picayunes--the proceeds of my fiddling performances, but all i had in the world i promised him if he would do me the favor required. i begged him not to expose me if he could not grant the request. he assured me, upon his honor, he would deposit it in the marksville post-office, and that he would keep it an inviolable secret forever. though the letter was in my pocket at the time, i dared not then deliver it to him, but stating i would have it written in a day or two, bade him good night, and returned to my cabin. it was impossible for me to expel the suspicions i entertained, and all night i lay awake, revolving in my mind the safest course to pursue. i was willing to risk a great deal to accomplish my purpose, but should the letter by any means fall into the hands of epps, it would be a death-blow to my aspirations. i was "perplexed in the extreme." my suspicions were well-founded, as the sequel demonstrated. the next day but one, while scraping cotton in the field, epps seated himself on the line fence between shaw's plantation and his own, in such a position as to overlook the scene of our labors. presently armsby made his appearance, and, mounting the fence, took a seat beside him. they remained two or three hours, all of which time i was in an agony of apprehension. that night, while broiling my bacon, epps entered the cabin with his rawhide in his hand. "well, boy," said he, "i understand i've got a larned nigger, that writes letters, and tries to get white fellows to mail 'em. wonder if you know who he is?" my worst fears were realized, and although it may not be considered entirely creditable, even under the circumstances, yet a resort to duplicity and downright falsehood was the only refuge that presented itself. "don't know nothing about it, master epps," i answered him, assuming an air of ignorance and surprise; "don't know nothing at all about it, sir." "wan't you over to shaw's night before last?" he inquired. "no, master," was the reply. "hav'nt you asked that fellow, armsby, to mail a letter for you at marksville?" "why, lord, master, i never spoke three words to him in all my life. i don't know what you mean." "well," he continued, "armsby told me to-day the devil was among my niggers; that i had one that needed close watching or he would run away; and when i axed him why, he said you come over to shaw's, and waked him up in the night, and wanted him to carry a letter to marksville. what have you got to say to that, ha?" "all i've got to say, master," i replied, "is, there is no truth in it. how could i write a letter without any ink or paper? there is nobody i want to write to, 'cause i haint got no friends living as i know of. that armsby is a lying, drunken fellow, they say, and nobody believes him anyway. you know i always tell the truth, and that i never go off the plantation without a pass. now, master, i can see what that armsby is after, plain enough. did'nt he want you to hire him for an overseer?" "yes, he wanted me to hire him," answered epps. "that's it," said i, "he wants to make you believe we're all going to run away, and then he thinks you'll hire an overseer to watch us. he just made that story out of whole cloth, 'cause he wants to get a situation. it's all a lie, master, you may depend on't." epps mused awhile, evidently impressed with the plausibility of my theory, and exclaimed, "i'm d--d, platt, if i don't believe you tell the truth. he must take me for a soft, to think he can come it over me with them kind of yarns, musn't he? maybe he thinks he can fool me; maybe he thinks i don't know nothing--can't take care of my own niggers, eh! soft soap old epps, eh! ha, ha, ha! d--n armsby! set the dogs on him, platt," and with many other comments descriptive of armsby's general character, and his capability of taking care of his own business, and attending to his own "niggers," master epps left the cabin. as soon as he was gone i threw the letter in the fire, and, with a desponding and despairing heart, beheld the epistle which had cost me so much anxiety and thought, and which i fondly hoped would have been my forerunner to the land of freedom, writhe and shrivel on its bed of coals, and dissolve into smoke and ashes. armsby, the treacherous wretch, was driven from shaw's plantation not long subsequently, much to my relief, for i feared he might renew his conversation, and perhaps induce epps to credit him. i knew not now whither to look for deliverance. hopes sprang up in my heart only to be crushed and blighted. the summer of my life was passing away; i felt i was growing prematurely old; that a few years more, and toil, and grief, and the poisonous miasmas of the swamps would accomplish their work upon me--would consign me to the grave's embrace, to moulder and be forgotten. repelled, betrayed, cut off from the hope of succor, i could only prostrate myself upon the earth and groan in unutterable anguish. the hope of rescue was the only light that cast a ray of comfort on my heart. that was now flickering, faint and low; another breath of disappointment would extinguish it altogether, leaving me to grope in midnight darkness to the end of life. chapter xvii. wiley disregards the counsels of aunt phebe and uncle abram, and is caught by the patrollers--the organization and duties of the latter--wiley runs away--speculations in regard to him--his unexpected return--his capture on red river, and confinement in alexandria jail--discovered by joseph b. roberts--subduing dogs in anticipation of escape--the fugitives in the great pine woods--captured by adam taydem and the indians--augustus killed by dogs--nelly, eldret's slave woman--the story of celeste--the concerted movement--lew cheney, the traitor--the idea of insurrection. the year 1850, down to which time i have now arrived, omitting many occurrences uninteresting to the reader, was an unlucky year for my companion wiley, the husband of phebe, whose taciturn and retiring nature has thus far kept him in the background. notwithstanding wiley seldom opened his mouth, and revolved in his obscure and unpretending orbit without a grumble, nevertheless the warm elements of sociality were strong in the bosom of that silent "nigger." in the exuberance of his self-reliance, disregarding the philosophy of uncle abram, and setting the counsels of aunt phebe utterly at naught, he had the fool-hardiness to essay a nocturnal visit to a neighboring cabin without a pass. so attractive was the society in which he found himself, that wiley took little note of the passing hours, and the light began to break in the east before he was aware. speeding homeward as fast as he could run, he hoped to reach the quarters before the horn would sound; but, unhappily, he was spied on the way by a company of patrollers. how it is in other dark places of slavery, i do not know, but on bayou boeuf there is an organization of patrollers, as they are styled, whose business it is to seize and whip any slave they may find wandering from the plantation. they ride on horseback, headed by a captain, armed, and accompanied by dogs. they have the right, either by law, or by general consent, to inflict discretionary chastisement upon a black man caught beyond the boundaries of his master's estate without a pass, and even to shoot him, if he attempts to escape. each company has a certain distance to ride up and down the bayou. they are compensated by the planters, who contribute in proportion to the number of slaves they own. the clatter of their horses' hoofs dashing by can be heard at all hours of the night, and frequently they may be seen driving a slave before them, or leading him by a rope fastened around his neck, to his owner's plantation. wiley fled before one of these companies, thinking he could reach his cabin before they could overtake him; but one of their dogs, a great ravenous hound, griped him by the leg, and held him fast. the patrollers whipped him severely, and brought him, a prisoner, to epps. from him he received another flagellation still more severe, so that the cuts of the lash and the bites of the dog rendered him sore, stiff and miserable, insomuch he was scarcely able to move. it was impossible in such a state to keep up his row, and consequently there was not an hour in the day but wiley felt the sting of his master's rawhide on his raw and bleeding back. his sufferings became intolerable, and finally he resolved to run away. without disclosing his intentions to run away even to his wife phebe, he proceeded to make arrangements for carrying his plan into execution. having cooked his whole week's allowance, he cautiously left the cabin on a sunday night, after the inmates of the quarters were asleep. when the horn sounded in the morning, wiley did not make his appearance. search was made for him in the cabins, in the corn-crib, in the cotton-house, and in every nook and corner of the premises. each of us was examined, touching any knowledge we might have that could throw light upon his sudden disappearance or present whereabouts. epps raved and stormed, and mounting his horse, galloped to neighboring plantations, making inquiries in all directions. the search was fruitless. nothing whatever was elicited, going to show what had become of the missing man. the dogs were led to the swamp, but were unable to strike his trail. they would circle away through the forest, their noses to the ground, but invariably returned in a short time to the spot from whence they started. wiley had escaped, and so secretly and cautiously as to elude and baffle all pursuit. days and even weeks passed away, and nothing could be heard of him. epps did nothing but curse and swear. it was the only topic of conversation among us when alone. we indulged in a great deal of speculation in regard to him, one suggesting he might have been drowned in some bayou, inasmuch as he was a poor swimmer; another, that perhaps he might have been devoured by alligators, or stung by the venomous moccasin, whose bite is certain and sudden death. the warm and hearty sympathies of us all, however, were with poor wiley, wherever he might be. many an earnest prayer ascended from the lips of uncle abram, beseeching safety for the wanderer. in about three weeks, when all hope of ever seeing him again was dismissed, to our surprise, he one day appeared among us. on leaving the plantation, he informed us, it was his intention to make his way back to south carolina--to the old quarters of master buford. during the day he remained secreted, sometimes in the branches of a tree, and at night pressed forward through the swamps. finally, one morning, just at dawn, he reached the shore of red river. while standing on the bank, considering how he could cross it, a white man accosted him, and demanded a pass. without one, and evidently a runaway, he was taken to alexandria, the shire town of the parish of rapides, and confined in prison. it happened several days after that joseph b. roberts, uncle of mistress epps, was in alexandria, and going into the jail, recognized him. wiley had worked on his plantation, when epps resided at huff power. paying the jail fee, and writing him a pass, underneath which was a note to epps, requesting him not to whip him on his return, wiley was sent back to bayou boeuf. it was the hope that hung upon this request, and which roberts assured him would be respected by his master, that sustained him as he approached the house. the request, however, as may be readily supposed, was entirely disregarded. after being kept in suspense three days, wiley was stripped, and compelled to endure one of those inhuman floggings to which the poor slave is so often subjected. it was the first and last attempt of wiley to run away. the long scars upon his back, which he will carry with him to the grave, perpetually remind him of the dangers of such a step. there was not a day throughout the ten years i belonged to epps that i did not consult with myself upon the prospect of escape. i laid many plans, which at the time i considered excellent ones, but one after the other they were all abandoned. no man who has never been placed in such a situation, can comprehend the thousand obstacles thrown in the way of the flying slave. every white man's hand is raised against him--the patrollers are watching for him--the hounds are ready to follow on his track, and the nature of the country is such as renders it impossible to pass through it with any safety. i thought, however, that the time might come, perhaps, when i should be running through the swamps again. i concluded, in that case, to be prepared for epps' dogs, should they pursue me. he possessed several, one of which was a notorious slave-hunter, and the most fierce and savage of his breed. while out hunting the coon or the opossum, i never allowed an opportunity to escape, when alone, of whipping them severely. in this manner i succeeded at length in subduing them completely. they feared me, obeying my voice at once when others had no control over them whatever. had they followed and overtaken me, i doubt not they would have shrank from attacking me. notwithstanding the certainty of being captured, the woods and swamps are, nevertheless, continually filled with runaways. many of them, when sick, or so worn out as to be unable to perform their tasks, escape into the swamps, willing to suffer the punishment inflicted for such offences, in order to obtain a day or two of rest. while i belonged to ford, i was unwittingly the means of disclosing the hiding-place of six or eight, who had taken up their residence in the "great pine woods." adam taydem frequently sent me from the mills over to the opening after provisions. the whole distance was then a thick pine forest. about ten o'clock of a beautiful moonlight night, while walking along the texas road, returning to the mills, carrying a dressed pig in a bag swung over my shoulder, i heard footsteps behind me, and turning round, beheld two black men in the dress of slaves approaching at a rapid pace. when within a short distance, one of them raised a club, as if intending to strike me; the other snatched at the bag. i managed to dodge them both, and seizing a pine knot, hurled it with such force against the head of one of them that he was prostrated apparently senseless to the ground. just then two more made their appearance from one side of the road. before they could grapple me, however, i succeeded in passing them, and taking to my heels, fled, much affrighted, towards the mills. when adam was informed of the adventure, he hastened straightway to the indian village, and arousing cascalla and several of his tribe, started in pursuit of the highwaymen. i accompanied them to the scene of attack, when we discovered a puddle of blood in the road, where the man whom i had smitten with the pine knot had fallen. after searching carefully through the woods a long time, one of cascalla's men discovered a smoke curling up through the branches of several prostrate pines, whose tops had fallen together. the rendezvous was cautiously surrounded, and all of them taken prisoners. they had escaped from a plantation in the vicinity of lamourie, and had been secreted there three weeks. they had no evil design upon me, except to frighten me out of my pig. having observed me passing towards ford's just at night-fall, and suspecting the nature of my errand, they had followed me, seen me butcher and dress the porker, and start on my return. they had been pinched for food, and were driven to this extremity by necessity. adam conveyed them to the parish jail, and was liberally rewarded. not unfrequently the runaway loses his life in the attempt to escape. epps' premises were bounded on one side by carey's, a very extensive sugar plantation. he cultivates annually at least fifteen hundred acres of cane, manufacturing twenty-two or twenty-three hundred hogsheads of sugar; an hogshead and a half being the usual yield of an acre. besides this he also cultivates five or six hundred acres of corn and cotton. he owned last year one hundred and fifty three field hands, besides nearly as many children, and yearly hires a drove during the busy season from this side the mississippi. one of his negro drivers, a pleasant, intelligent boy, was named augustus. during the holidays, and occasionally while at work in adjoining fields, i had an opportunity of making his acquaintance, which eventually ripened into a warm and mutual attachment. summer before last he was so unfortunate as to incur the displeasure of the overseer, a coarse, heartless brute, who whipped him most cruelly. augustus ran away. reaching a cane rick on hawkins' plantation, he secreted himself in the top of it. all carey's dogs were put upon his track--some fifteen of them--and soon scented his footsteps to the hiding place. they surrounded the rick, baying and scratching, but could not reach him. presently, guided by the clamor of the hounds, the pursuers rode up, when the overseer, mounting on to the rick, drew him forth. as he rolled down to the ground the whole pack plunged upon him, and before they could be beaten off, had gnawed and mutilated his body in the most shocking manner, their teeth having penetrated to the bone in an hundred places. he was taken up, tied upon a mule, and carried home. but this was augustus' last trouble. he lingered until the next day, when death sought the unhappy boy, and kindly relieved him from his agony. it was not unusual for slave women as well as slave men to endeavor to escape. nelly, eldret's girl, with whom i lumbered for a time in the "big cane brake," lay concealed in epps' corn crib three days. at night, when his family were asleep, she would steal into the quarters for food, and return to the crib again. we concluded it would no longer be safe for us to allow her to remain, and accordingly she retraced her steps to her own cabin. but the most remarkable instance of a successful evasion of dogs and hunters was the following: among carey's girls was one by the name of celeste. she was nineteen or twenty, and far whiter than her owner, or any of his offspring. it required a close inspection to distinguish in her features the slightest trace of african blood. a stranger would never have dreamed that she was the descendant of slaves. i was sitting in my cabin late at night, playing a low air on my violin, when the door opened carefully, and celeste stood before me. she was pale and haggard. had an apparition arisen from the earth, i could not have been more startled. "who are you?" i demanded, after gazing at her a moment. "i'm hungry; give me some bacon," was her reply. my first impression was that she was some deranged young mistress, who, escaping from home, was wandering, she knew not whither, and had been attracted to my cabin by the sound of the violin. the coarse cotton slave dress she wore, however, soon dispelled such a supposition. "what is your name?" i again interrogated. "my name is celeste," she answered. "i belong to carey, and have been two days among the palmettoes. i am sick and can't work, and would rather die in the swamp than be whipped to death by the overseer. carey's dogs won't follow me. they have tried to set them on. there's a secret between them and celeste, and they wont mind the devilish orders of the overseer. give me some meat--i'm starving." i divided my scanty allowance with her, and while partaking of it, she related how she had managed to escape, and described the place of her concealment. in the edge of the swamp, not half a mile from epps' house, was a large space, thousands of acres in extent, thickly covered with palmetto. tall trees, whose long arms interlocked each other, formed a canopy above them, so dense as to exclude the beams of the sun. it was like twilight always, even in the middle of the brightest day. in the centre of this great space, which nothing but serpents very often explore--a sombre and solitary spot--celeste had erected a rude hut of dead branches that had fallen to the ground, and covered it with the leaves of the palmetto. this was the abode she had selected. she had no fear of carey's dogs, any more than i had of epps'. it is a fact, which i have never been able to explain, that there are those whose tracks the hounds will absolutely refuse to follow. celeste was one of them. for several nights she came to my cabin for food. on one occasion our dogs barked as she approached, which aroused epps, and induced him to reconnoitre the premises. he did not discover her, but after that it was not deemed prudent for her to come to the yard. when all was silent i carried provisions to a certain spot agreed upon, where she would find them. in this manner celeste passed the greater part of the summer. she regained her health, and became strong and hearty. at all seasons of the year the howlings of wild animals can be heard at night along the borders of the swamps. several times they had made her a midnight call, awakening her from slumber with a growl. terrified by such unpleasant salutations, she finally concluded to abandon her lonely dwelling; and, accordingly, returning to her master, was scourged, her neck meanwhile being fastened in the stocks, and sent into the field again. the year before my arrival in the country there was a concerted movement among a number of slaves on bayou boeuf, that terminated tragically indeed. it was, i presume, a matter of newspaper notoriety at the time, but all the knowledge i have of it, has been derived from the relation of those living at that period in the immediate vicinity of the excitement. it has become a subject of general and unfailing interest in every slave-hut on the bayou, and will doubtless go down to succeeding generations as their chief tradition. lew cheney, with whom i became acquainted--a shrewd, cunning negro, more intelligent than the generality of his race, but unscrupulous and full of treachery--conceived the project of organizing a company sufficiently strong to fight their way against all opposition, to the neighboring territory of mexico. a remote spot, far within the depths of the swamp, back of hawkins' plantation, was selected as the rallying point. lew flitted from one plantation to another, in the dead of night, preaching a crusade to mexico, and, like peter the hermit, creating a furor of excitement wherever he appeared. at length a large number of runaways were assembled; stolen mules, and corn gathered from the fields, and bacon filched from smoke-houses, had been conveyed into the woods. the expedition was about ready to proceed, when their hiding place was discovered. lew cheney, becoming convinced of the ultimate failure of his project, in order to curry favor with his master, and avoid the consequences which he foresaw would follow, deliberately determined to sacrifice all his companions. departing secretly from the encampment, he proclaimed among the planters the number collected in the swamp, and, instead of stating truly the object they had in view, asserted their intention was to emerge from their seclusion the first favorable opportunity, and murder every white person along the bayou. such an announcement, exaggerated as it passed from mouth to mouth, filled the whole country with terror. the fugitives were surrounded and taken prisoners, carried in chains to alexandria, and hung by the populace. not only those, but many who were suspected, though entirely innocent, were taken from the field and from the cabin, and without the shadow of process or form of trial, hurried to the scaffold. the planters on bayou boeuf finally rebelled against such reckless destruction of property, but it was not until a regiment of soldiers had arrived from some fort on the texan frontier, demolished the gallows, and opened the doors of the alexandria prison, that the indiscriminate slaughter was stayed. lew cheney escaped, and was even rewarded for his treachery. he is still living, but his name is despised and execrated by all his race throughout the parishes of rapides and avoyelles. such an idea as insurrection, however, is not new among the enslaved population of bayou boeuf. more than once i have joined in serious consultation, when the subject has been discussed, and there have been times when a word from me would have placed hundreds of my fellow-bondsmen in an attitude of defiance. without arms or ammunition, or even with them, i saw such a step would result in certain defeat, disaster and death, and always raised my voice against it. during the mexican war i well remember the extravagant hopes that were excited. the news of victory filled the great house with rejoicing, but produced only sorrow and disappointment in the cabin. in my opinion--and i have had opportunity to know something of the feeling of which i speak--there are not fifty slaves on the shores of bayou boeuf, but would hail with unmeasured delight the approach of an invading army. they are deceived who flatter themselves that the ignorant and debased slave has no conception of the magnitude of his wrongs. they are deceived who imagine that he arises from his knees, with back lacerated and bleeding, cherishing only a spirit of meekness and forgiveness. a day may come--it _will_ come, if his prayer is heard--a terrible day of vengeance, when the master in his turn will cry in vain for mercy. chapter xviii. o'niel, the tanner--conversation with aunt phebe overheard--epps in the tanning business--stabbing of uncle abram--the ugly wound--epps is jealous--patsey is missing--her return from shaw's--harriet, shaw's black wife--epps enraged--patsey denies his charges--she is tied down naked to four stakes--the inhuman flogging--flaying of patsey--the beauty of the day--the bucket of salt water--the dress stiff with blood--patsey grows melancholy--her idea of god and eternity--of heaven and freedom--the effect of slave-whipping--epps' oldest son--"the child is father to the man." wiley suffered severely at the hands of master epps, as has been related in the preceding chapter, but in this respect he fared no worse than his unfortunate companions. "spare the rod," was an idea scouted by our master. he was constitutionally subject to periods of ill-humor, and at such times, however little provocation there might be, a certain amount of punishment was inflicted. the circumstances attending the last flogging but one that i received, will show how trivial a cause was sufficient with him for resorting to the whip. a mr. o'niel, residing in the vicinity of the big pine woods, called upon epps for the purpose of purchasing me. he was a tanner and currier by occupation, transacting an extensive business, and intended to place me at service in some department of his establishment, provided he bought me. aunt phebe, while preparing the dinner-table in the great house, overheard their conversation. on returning to the yard at night, the old woman ran to meet me, designing, of course, to overwhelm me with the news. she entered into a minute repetition of all she had heard, and aunt phebe was one whose ears never failed to drink in every word of conversation uttered in her hearing. she enlarged upon the fact that "massa epps was g'wine to sell me to a tanner ober in de pine woods," so long and loudly as to attract the attention of the mistress, who, standing unobserved on the piazza at the time, was listening to our conversation. "well, aunt phebe," said i, "i'm glad of it. i'm tired of scraping cotton, and would rather be a tanner. i hope he'll buy me." o'niel did not effect a purchase, however, the parties differing as to price, and the morning following his arrival, departed homewards. he had been gone but a short time, when epps made his appearance in the field. now nothing will more violently enrage a master, especially epps, than the intimation of one of his servants that he would like to leave him. mistress epps had repeated to him my expressions to aunt phebe the evening previous, as i learned from the latter afterwards, the mistress having mentioned to her that she had overheard us. on entering the field, epps walked directly to me. "so, platt, you're tired of scraping cotton, are you? you would like to change your master, eh? you're fond of moving round--traveler--ain't ye? ah, yes--like to travel for your health, may be? feel above cotton-scraping, i 'spose. so you're going into the tanning business? good business--devilish fine business. enterprising nigger! b'lieve i'll go into that business myself. down on your knees, and strip that rag off your back! i'll try my hand at tanning." i begged earnestly, and endeavored to soften him with excuses, but in vain. there was no other alternative; so kneeling down, i presented my bare back for the application of the lash. "how do you like _tanning_?" he exclaimed, as the rawhide descended upon my flesh. "how do you like _tanning_?" he repeated at every blow. in this manner he gave me twenty or thirty lashes, incessantly giving utterance to the word "tanning," in one form of expression or another. when sufficiently "tanned," he allowed me to arise, and with a half-malicious laugh assured me, if i still fancied the business, he would give me further instruction in it whenever i desired. this time, he remarked, he had only given me a short lesson in "_tanning_"--the next time he would "curry me down." uncle abram, also, was frequently treated with great brutality, although he was one of the kindest and most faithful creatures in the world. he was my cabin-mate for years. there was a benevolent expression in the old man's face, pleasant to behold. he regarded us with a kind of parental feeling, always counseling us with remarkable gravity and deliberation. returning from marshall's plantation one afternoon, whither i had been sent on some errand of the mistress, i found him lying on the cabin floor, his clothes saturated with blood. he informed me that he had been stabbed! while spreading cotton on the scaffold, epps came home intoxicated from holmesville. he found fault with every thing, giving many orders so directly contrary that it was impossible to execute any of them. uncle abram, whose faculties were growing dull, became confused, and committed some blunder of no particular consequence. epps was so enraged thereat, that, with drunken recklessness, he flew upon the old man, and stabbed him in the back. it was a long, ugly wound, but did not happen to penetrate far enough to result fatally. it was sewed up by the mistress, who censured her husband with extreme severity, not only denouncing his inhumanity, but declaring that she expected nothing else than that he would bring the family to poverty--that he would kill all the slaves on the plantation in some of his drunken fits. it was no uncommon thing with him to prostrate aunt phebe with a chair or stick of wood; but the most cruel whipping that ever i was doomed to witness--one i can never recall with any other emotion than that of horror--was inflicted on the unfortunate patsey. it has been seen that the jealousy and hatred of mistress epps made the daily life of her young and agile slave completely miserable. i am happy in the belief that on numerous occasions i was the means of averting punishment from the inoffensive girl. in epps' absence the mistress often ordered me to whip her without the remotest provocation. i would refuse, saying that i feared my master's displeasure, and several times ventured to remonstrate with her against the treatment patsey received. i endeavored to impress her with the truth that the latter was not responsible for the acts of which she complained, but that she being a slave, and subject entirely to her master's will, he alone was answerable. at length "the green-eyed monster" crept into the soul of epps also, and then it was that he joined with his wrathful wife in an infernal jubilee over the girl's miseries. on a sabbath day in hoeing time, not long ago, we were on the bayou bank, washing our clothes, as was our usual custom. presently patsey was missing. epps called aloud, but there was no answer. no one had observed her leaving the yard, and it was a wonder with us whither she had gone. in the course of a couple of hours she was seen approaching from the direction of shaw's. this man, as has been intimated, was a notorious profligate, and withal not on the most friendly terms with epps. harriet, his black wife, knowing patsey's troubles, was kind to her, in consequence of which the latter was in the habit of going over to see her every opportunity. her visits were prompted by friendship merely, but the suspicion gradually entered the brain of epps, that another and a baser passion led her thither--that it was not harriet she desired to meet, but rather the unblushing libertine, his neighbor. patsey found her master in a fearful rage on her return. his violence so alarmed her that at first she attempted to evade direct answers to his questions, which only served to increase his suspicions. she finally, however, drew herself up proudly, and in a spirit of indignation boldly denied his charges. "missus don't give me soap to wash with, as she does the rest," said patsey, "and you know why. i went over to harriet's to get a piece," and saying this, she drew it forth from a pocket in her dress and exhibited it to him. "that's what i went to shaw's for, massa epps," continued she; "the lord knows that was all." "you lie, you black wench!" shouted epps. "i _don't_ lie, massa. if you kill me, i'll stick to that." "oh! i'll fetch you down. i'll learn you to go to shaw's. i'll take the starch out of ye," he muttered fiercely through his shut teeth. then turning to me, he ordered four stakes to be driven into the ground, pointing with the toe of his boot to the places where he wanted them. when the stakes were driven down, he ordered her to be stripped of every article of dress. ropes were then brought, and the naked girl was laid upon her face, her wrists and feet each tied firmly to a stake. stepping to the piazza, he took down a heavy whip, and placing it in my hands, commanded me to lash her. unpleasant as it was, i was compelled to obey him. nowhere that day, on the face of the whole earth, i venture to say, was there such a demoniac exhibition witnessed as then ensued. mistress epps stood on the piazza among her children, gazing on the scene with an air of heartless satisfaction. the slaves were huddled together at a little distance, their countenances indicating the sorrow of their hearts. poor patsey prayed piteously for mercy, but her prayers were vain. epps ground his teeth, and stamped upon the ground, screaming at me, like a mad fiend, to strike _harder_. "strike harder, or _your_ turn will come next, you scoundrel," he yelled. "oh, mercy, massa!--oh! have mercy, _do_. oh, god! pity me," patsey exclaimed continually, struggling fruitlessly, and the flesh quivering at every stroke. when i had struck her as many as thirty times, i stopped, and turned round toward epps, hoping he was satisfied; but with bitter oaths and threats, he ordered me to continue. i inflicted ten or fifteen blows more. by this time her back was covered with long welts, intersecting each other like net work. epps was yet furious and savage as ever, demanding if she would like to go to shaw's again, and swearing he would flog her until she wished she was in h--l. throwing down the whip, i declared i could punish her no more. he ordered me to go on, threatening me with a severer flogging than she had received, in case of refusal. my heart revolted at the inhuman scene, and risking the consequences, i absolutely refused to raise the whip. he then seized it himself, and applied it with ten-fold greater force than i had. the painful cries and shrieks of the tortured patsey, mingling with the loud and angry curses of epps, loaded the air. she was terribly lacerated--i may say, without exaggeration, literally flayed. the lash was wet with blood, which flowed down her sides and dropped upon the ground. at length she ceased struggling. her head sank listlessly on the ground. her screams and supplications gradually decreased and died away into a low moan. she no longer writhed and shrank beneath the lash when it bit out small pieces of her flesh. i thought that she was dying! [illustration: the staking out and flogging of the girl patsey.] it was the sabbath of the lord. the fields smiled in the warm sunlight--the birds chirped merrily amidst the foliage of the trees--peace and happiness seemed to reign everywhere, save in the bosoms of epps and his panting victim and the silent witnesses around him. the tempestuous emotions that were raging there were little in harmony with the calm and quiet beauty of the day. i could look on epps only with unutterable loathing and abhorrence, and thought within myself--"thou devil, sooner or later, somewhere in the course of eternal justice, thou shalt answer for this sin!" finally, he ceased whipping from mere exhaustion, and ordered phebe to bring a bucket of salt and water. after washing her thoroughly with this, i was told to take her to her cabin. untying the ropes, i raised her in my arms. she was unable to stand, and as her head rested on my shoulder, she repeated many times, in a faint voice scarcely perceptible, "oh, platt--oh, platt!" but nothing further. her dress was replaced, but it clung to her back, and was soon stiff with blood. we laid her on some boards in the hut, where she remained a long time, with eyes closed and groaning in agony. at night phebe applied melted tallow to her wounds, and so far as we were able, all endeavored to assist and console her. day after day she lay in her cabin upon her face, the sores preventing her resting in any other position. a blessed thing it would have been for her--days and weeks and months of misery it would have saved her--had she never lifted up her head in life again. indeed, from that time forward she was not what she had been. the burden of a deep melancholy weighed heavily on her spirits. she no longer moved with that buoyant and elastic step--there was not that mirthful sparkle in her eyes that formerly distinguished her. the bounding vigor--the sprightly, laughter-loving spirit of her youth, were gone. she fell into a mournful and desponding mood, and oftentimes would start up in her sleep, and with raised hands, plead for mercy. she became more silent than she was, toiling all day in our midst, not uttering a word. a care-worn, pitiful expression settled on her face, and it was her humor now to weep, rather than rejoice. if ever there was a broken heart--one crushed and blighted by the rude grasp of suffering and misfortune--it was patsey's. she had been reared no better than her master's beast--looked upon merely as a valuable and handsome animal--and consequently possessed but a limited amount of knowledge. and yet a faint light cast its rays over her intellect, so that it was not wholly dark. she had a dim perception of god and of eternity, and a still more dim perception of a saviour who had died even for such as her. she entertained but confused notions of a future life--not comprehending the distinction between the corporeal and spiritual existence. happiness, in her mind, was exemption from stripes--from labor--from the cruelty of masters and overseers. her idea of the joy of heaven was simply _rest_, and is fully expressed in these lines of a melancholy bard: "i ask no paradise on high, with cares on earth oppressed, the only heaven for which i sigh, is rest, eternal rest." it is a mistaken opinion that prevails in some quarters, that the slave does not understand the term--does not comprehend the idea of freedom. even on bayou boeuf, where i conceive slavery exists in its most abject and cruel form--where it exhibits features altogether unknown in more northern states--the most ignorant of them generally know full well its meaning. they understand the privileges and exemptions that belong to it--that it would bestow upon them the fruits of their own labors, and that it would secure to them the enjoyment of domestic happiness. they do not fail to observe the difference between their own condition and the meanest white man's, and to realize the injustice of the laws which place it in his power not only to appropriate the profits of their industry, but to subject them to unmerited and unprovoked punishment, without remedy, or the right to resist, or to remonstrate. patsey's life, especially after her whipping, was one long dream of liberty. far away, to her fancy an immeasurable distance, she knew there was a land of freedom. a thousand times she had heard that somewhere in the distant north there were no slaves--no masters. in her imagination it was an enchanted region, the paradise of the earth. to dwell where the black man may work for himself--live in his own cabin--till his own soil, was a blissful dream of patsey's--a dream, alas! the fulfillment of which she can never realize. the effect of these exhibitions of brutality on the household of the slave-holder, is apparent. epps' oldest son is an intelligent lad of ten or twelve years of age. it is pitiable, sometimes, to see him chastising, for instance, the venerable uncle abram. he will call the old man to account, and if in his childish judgment it is necessary, sentence him to a certain number of lashes, which he proceeds to inflict with much gravity and deliberation. mounted on his pony, he often rides into the field with his whip, playing the overseer, greatly to his father's delight. without discrimination, at such times, he applies the rawhide, urging the slaves forward with shouts, and occasional expressions of profanity, while the old man laughs, and commends him as a thorough-going boy. "the child is father to the man," and with such training, whatever may be his natural disposition, it cannot well be otherwise than that, on arriving at maturity, the sufferings and miseries of the slave will be looked upon with entire indifference. the influence of the iniquitous system necessarily fosters an unfeeling and cruel spirit, even in the bosoms of those who, among their equals, are regarded as humane and generous. young master epps possessed some noble qualities, yet no process of reasoning could lead him to comprehend, that in the eye of the almighty there is no distinction of color. he looked upon the black man simply as an animal, differing in no respect from any other animal, save in the gift of speech and the possession of somewhat higher instincts, and, therefore, the more valuable. to work like his father's mules--to be whipped and kicked and scourged through life--to address the white man with hat in hand, and eyes bent servilely on the earth, in his mind, was the natural and proper destiny of the slave. brought up with such ideas--in the notion that we stand without the pale of humanity--no wonder the oppressors of my people are a pitiless and unrelenting race. chapter xix. avery, of bayou rouge--peculiarity of dwellings--epps builds a new house--bass, the carpenter--his noble qualities--his personal appearance and eccentricities--bass and epps discuss the question of slavery--epps' opinion of bass--i make myself known to him--our conversation--his surprise--the midnight meeting on the bayou bank--bass' assurances--declares war against slavery--why i did not disclose my history--bass writes letters--copy of his letter to messrs. parker and perry--the fever of suspense--disappointments--bass endeavors to cheer me--my faith in him. in the month of june, 1852, in pursuance of a previous contract, mr. avery, a carpenter of bayou rouge, commenced the erection of a house for master epps. it has previously been stated that there are no cellars on bayou boeuf; on the other hand, such is the low and swampy nature of the ground, the great houses are usually built upon spiles. another peculiarity is, the rooms are not plastered, but the ceiling and sides are covered with matched cypress boards, painted such color as most pleases the owner's taste. generally the plank and boards are sawed by slaves with whip-saws, there being no waterpower upon which mills might be built within many miles. when the planter erects for himself a dwelling, therefore, there is plenty of extra work for his slaves. having had some experience under tibeats as a carpenter, i was taken from the field altogether, on the arrival of avery and his hands. among them was one to whom i owe an immeasurable debt of gratitude. only for him, in all probability, i should have ended my days in slavery. he was my deliverer--a man whose true heart overflowed with noble and generous emotions. to the last moment of my existence i shall remember him with feelings of thankfulness. his name was bass, and at that time he resided in marksville. it will be difficult to convey a correct impression of his appearance or character. he was a large man, between forty and fifty years old, of light complexion and light hair. he was very cool and self-possessed, fond of argument, but always speaking with extreme deliberation. he was that kind of person whose peculiarity of manner was such that nothing he uttered ever gave offence. what would be intolerable, coming from the lips of another, could be said by him with impunity. there was not a man on red river, perhaps, that agreed with him on the subject of politics or religion, and not a man, i venture to say, who discussed either of those subjects half as much. it seemed to be taken for granted that he would espouse the unpopular side of every local question, and it always created amusement rather than displeasure among his auditors, to listen to the ingenious and original manner in which he maintained the controversy. he was a bachelor--an "old bachelor," according to the true acceptation of the term--having no kindred living, as he knew of, in the world. neither had he any permanent abiding place--wandering from one state to another, as his fancy dictated. he had lived in marksville three or four years, and in the prosecution of his business as a carpenter; and in consequence, likewise, of his peculiarities, was quite extensively known throughout the parish of avoyelles. he was liberal to a fault; and his many acts of kindness and transparent goodness of heart rendered him popular in the community, the sentiment of which he unceasingly combated. he was a native of canada, from whence he had wandered in early life, and after visiting all the principal localities in the northern and western states, in the course of his peregrinations, arrived in the unhealthy region of the red river. his last removal was from illinois. whither he has now gone, i regret to be obliged to say, is unknown to me. he gathered up his effects and departed quietly from marksville the day before i did, the suspicions of his instrumentality in procuring my liberation rendering such a step necessary. for the commission of a just and righteous act he would undoubtedly have suffered death, had he remained within reach of the slave-whipping tribe on bayou boeuf. one day, while working on the new house, bass and epps became engaged in a controversy, to which, as will be readily supposed, i listened with absorbing interest. they were discussing the subject of slavery. "i tell you what it is epps," said bass, "it's all wrong--all wrong, sir--there's no justice nor righteousness in it. i wouldn't own a slave if i was rich as croesus, which i am not, as is perfectly well understood, more particularly among my creditors. _there's_ another humbug--the credit system--humbug, sir; no credit--no debt. credit leads a man into temptation. cash down is the only thing that will deliver him from evil. but this question of _slavery_; what _right_ have you to your niggers when you come down to the point?" "what right!" said epps, laughing; "why, i bought 'em, and paid for 'em." "of _course_ you did; the law says you have the right to hold a nigger, but begging the law's pardon, it _lies_. yes, epps, when the law says that it's a _liar_, and the truth is not in it. is every thing right because the law allows it? suppose they'd pass a law taking away your liberty and making you a slave?" "oh, that ain't a supposable case," said epps, still laughing; "hope you don't compare me to a nigger, bass." "well," bass answered gravely, "no, not exactly. but i have seen niggers before now as good as i am, and i have no acquaintance with any white man in these parts that i consider a whit better than myself. now, in the sight of god, what is the difference, epps, between a white man and a black one?" "all the difference in the world," replied epps. "you might as well ask what the difference is between a white man and a baboon. now, i've seen one of them critters in orleans that knowed just as much as any nigger i've got. you'd call them feller citizens, i s'pose?"--and epps indulged in a loud laugh at his own wit. "look here, epps," continued his companion; "you can't laugh me down in that way. some men are witty, and some ain't so witty as they think they are. now let me ask you a question. are all men created free and equal as the declaration of independence holds they are?" "yes," responded epps, "but all men, niggers, and monkeys _ain't_;" and hereupon he broke forth into a more boisterous laugh than before. "there are monkeys among white people as well as black, when you come to that," coolly remarked bass. "i know some white men that use arguments no sensible monkey would. but let that pass. these niggers are human beings. if they don't know as much as their masters, whose fault is it? they are not _allowed_ to know anything. you have books and papers, and can go where you please, and gather intelligence in a thousand ways. but your slaves have no privileges. you'd whip one of them if caught reading a book. they are held in bondage, generation after generation, deprived of mental improvement, and who can expect them to possess much knowledge? if they are not brought down to a level with the brute creation, you slaveholders will never be blamed for it. if they are baboons, or stand no higher in the scale of intelligence than such animals, you and men like you will have to answer for it. there's a sin, a fearful sin, resting on this nation, that will not go unpunished forever. there will be a reckoning yet--yes, epps, there's a day coming that will burn as an oven. it may be sooner or it may be later, but it's a coming as sure as the lord is just." "if you lived up among the yankees in new-england," said epps, "i expect you'd be one of them cursed fanatics that know more than the constitution, and go about peddling clocks and coaxing niggers to run away." "if i was in new-england," returned bass, "i would be just what i am here. i would say that slavery was an iniquity, and ought to be abolished. i would say there was no reason nor justice in the law, or the constitution that allows one man to hold another man in bondage. it would be hard for you to lose your property, to be sure, but it wouldn't be half as hard as it would be to lose your liberty. you have no more right to your freedom, in exact justice, than uncle abram yonder. talk about black skin, and black blood; why, how many slaves are there on this bayou as white as either of us? and what difference is there in the color of the soul? pshaw! the whole system is as absurd as it is cruel. you may own niggers and behanged, but i wouldn't own one for the best plantation in louisiana." "you like to hear yourself talk, bass, better than any man i know of. you would argue that black was white, or white black, if any body would contradict you. nothing suits you in this world, and i don't believe you will be satisfied with the next, if you should have your choice in them." conversations substantially like the foregoing were not unusual between the two after this; epps drawing him out more for the purpose of creating a laugh at his expense, than with a view of fairly discussing the merits of the question. he looked upon bass, as a man ready to say anything merely for the pleasure of hearing his own voice; as somewhat self-conceited, perhaps, contending against his faith and judgment, in order, simply, to exhibit his dexterity in argumentation. he remained at epps' through the summer, visiting marksville generally once a fortnight. the more i saw of him, the more i became convinced he was a man in whom i could confide. nevertheless, my previous ill-fortune had taught me to be extremely cautious. it was not my place to speak to a white man except when spoken to, but i omitted no opportunity of throwing myself in his way, and endeavored constantly in every possible manner to attract his attention. in the early part of august he and myself were at work alone in the house, the other carpenters having left, and epps being absent in the field. now was the time, if ever, to broach the subject, and i resolved to do it, and submit to whatever consequences might ensue. we were busily at work in the afternoon, when i stopped suddenly and said-"master bass, i want to ask you what part of the country you came from?" "why, platt, what put that into your head?" he answered. "you wouldn't know if i should tell you." after a moment or two he added--"i was born in canada; now guess where that is." "oh, i know where canada is," said i, "i have been there myself." "yes, i expect you are well acquainted all through that country," he remarked, laughing incredulously. "as sure as i live, master bass," i replied, "i have been there. i have been in montreal and kingston, and queenston, and a great many places in canada, and i have been in york state, too--in buffalo, and rochester, and albany, and can tell you the names of the villages on the erie canal and the champlain canal." bass turned round and gazed at me a long time without uttering a syllable. "how came you here?" he inquired, at length. "master bass," i answered, "if justice had been done, i never would have been here." "well, how's this?" said he. "who are you? you have been in canada sure enough; i know all the places you mention. how did you happen to get here? come, tell me all about it." "i have no friends here," was my reply, "that i can put confidence in. i am afraid to tell you, though i don't believe you would tell master epps if i should." he assured me earnestly he would keep every word i might speak to him a profound secret, and his curiosity was evidently strongly excited. it was a long story, i informed him, and would take some time to relate it. master epps would be back soon, but if he would see me that night after all were asleep, i would repeat it to him. he consented readily to the arrangement, and directed me to come into the building where we were then at work, and i would find him there. about midnight, when all was still and quiet, i crept cautiously from my cabin, and silently entering the unfinished building, found him awaiting me. after further assurances on his part that i should not be betrayed, i began a relation of the history of my life and misfortunes. he was deeply interested, asking numerous questions in reference to localities and events. having ended my story i besought him to write to some of my friends at the north, acquainting them with my situation, and begging them to forward free papers, or take such steps as they might consider proper to secure my release. he promised to do so, but dwelt upon the danger of such an act in case of detection, and now impressed upon me the great necessity of strict silence and secresy. before we parted our plan of operation was arranged. we agreed to meet the next night at a specified place among the high weeds on the bank of the bayou, some distance from master's dwelling. there he was to write down on paper the names and address of several persons, old friends in the north, to whom he would direct letters during his next visit to marksville. it was not deemed prudent to meet in the new house, inasmuch as the light it would be necessary to use might possibly be discovered. in the course of the day i managed to obtain a few matches and a piece of candle, unperceived, from the kitchen, during a temporary absence of aunt phebe. bass had pencil and paper in his tool chest. at the appointed hour we met on the bayou bank, and creeping among the high weeds, i lighted the candle, while he drew forth pencil and paper and prepared for business. i gave him the names of william perry, cephas parker and judge marvin, all of saratoga springs, saratoga county, new-york. i had been employed by the latter in the united states hotel, and had transacted business with the former to a considerable extent, and trusted that at least one of them would be still living at that place. he carefully wrote the names, and then remarked, thoughtfully-"it is so many years since you left saratoga, all these men may be dead, or may have removed. you say you obtained papers at the custom house in new-york. probably there is a record of them there, and i think it would be well to write and ascertain." i agreed with him, and again repeated the circumstances related heretofore, connected with my visit to the custom house with brown and hamilton. we lingered on the bank of the bayou an hour or more, conversing upon the subject which now engrossed our thoughts. i could no longer doubt his fidelity, and freely spoke to him of the many sorrows i had borne in silence, and so long. i spoke of my wife and children, mentioning their names and ages, and dwelling upon the unspeakable happiness it would be to clasp them to my heart once more before i died. i caught him by the hand, and with tears and passionate entreaties implored him to befriend me--to restore me to my kindred and to liberty--promising i would weary heaven the remainder of my life with prayers that it would bless and prosper him. in the enjoyment of freedom--surrounded by the associations of youth, and restored to the bosom of my family--that promise is not yet forgotten, nor shall it ever be so long as i have strength to raise my imploring eyes on high. "oh, blessings on his kindly voice and on his silver hair, and blessings on his whole life long, until he meet me there." he overwhelmed me with assurances of friendship and faithfulness, saying he had never before taken so deep an interest in the fate of any one. he spoke of himself in a somewhat mournful tone, as a lonely man, a wanderer about the world--that he was growing old, and must soon reach the end of his earthly journey, and lie down to his final rest without kith or kin to mourn for him, or to remember him--that his life was of little value to himself, and henceforth should be devoted to the accomplishment of my liberty, and to an unceasing warfare against the accursed shame of slavery. after this time we seldom spoke to, or recognized each other. he was, moreover, less free in his conversation with epps on the subject of slavery. the remotest suspicion that there was any unusual intimacy--any secret understanding between us--never once entered the mind of epps, or any other person, white or black, on the plantation. i am often asked, with an air of incredulity, how i succeeded so many years in keeping from my daily and constant companions the knowledge of my true name and history. the terrible lesson burch taught me, impressed indelibly upon my mind the danger and uselessness of asserting i was a freeman. there was no possibility of any slave being able to assist me, while, on the other hand, there _was_ a possibility of his exposing me. when it is recollected the whole current of my thoughts, for twelve years, turned to the contemplation of escape, it will not be wondered at, that i was always cautious and on my guard. it would have been an act of folly to have proclaimed my _right_ to freedom; it would only have subjected me to severer scrutiny--probably have consigned me to some more distant and inaccessible region than even bayou boeuf. edwin epps was a person utterly regardless of a black man's rights or wrongs--utterly destitute of any natural sense of justice, as i well knew. it was important, therefore, not only as regarded my hope of deliverance, but also as regarded the few personal privileges i was permitted to enjoy, to keep from him the history of my life. the saturday night subsequent to our interview at the water's edge, bass went home to marksville. the next day, being sunday, he employed himself in his own room writing letters. one he directed to the collector of customs at new-york, another to judge marvin, and another to messrs. parker and perry jointly. the latter was the one which led to my recovery. he subscribed my true name, but in the postscript intimated i was not the writer. the letter itself shows that he considered himself engaged in a dangerous undertaking--no less than running "the risk of his life, if detected." i did not see the letter before it was mailed, but have since obtained a copy, which is here inserted: "bayou boeuf, august 15, 1852. "mr. william perry or mr. cephas parker: "gentlemen--it having been a long time since i have seen or heard from you, and not knowing that you are living, it is with uncertainty that i write to you, but the necessity of the case must be my excuse. "having been born free, just across the river from you, i am certain you must know me, and i am here now a slave. i wish you to obtain free papers for me, and forward them to me at marksville, louisiana, parish of avoyelles, and oblige "yours, solomon northup. "the way i came to be a slave, i was taken sick in washington city, and was insensible for some time. when i recovered my reason, i was robbed of my free-papers, and in irons on my way to this state, and have never been able to get any one to write for me until now; and he that is writing for me runs the risk of his life if detected." the allusion to myself in the work recently issued, entitled "a key to uncle tom's cabin," contains the first part of this letter, omitting the postscript. neither are the full names of the gentlemen to whom it is directed correctly stated, there being a slight discrepancy, probably a typographical error. to the postscript more than to the body of the communication am i indebted for my liberation, as will presently be seen. when bass returned from marksville he informed me of what he had done. we continued our midnight consultations, never speaking to each other through the day, excepting as it was necessary about the work. as nearly as he was able to ascertain, it would require two weeks for the letter to reach saratoga in due course of mail, and the same length of time for an answer to return. within six weeks, at the farthest, we concluded, an answer would arrive, if it arrived at all. a great many suggestions were now made, and a great deal of conversation took place between us, as to the most safe and proper course to pursue on receipt of the free papers. they would stand between him and harm, in case we were overtaken and arrested leaving the country altogether. it would be no infringement of law, however much it might provoke individual hostility, to assist a freeman to regain his freedom. at the end of four weeks he was again at marksville, but no answer had arrived. i was sorely disappointed, but still reconciled myself with the reflection that sufficient length of time had not yet elapsed--that there might have been delays--and that i could not reasonably expect one so soon. six, seven, eight, and ten weeks passed by, however, and nothing came. i was in a fever of suspense whenever bass visited marksville, and could scarcely close my eyes until his return. finally my master's house was finished, and the time came when bass must leave me. the night before his departure i was wholly given up to despair. i had clung to him as a drowning man clings to the floating spar, knowing if it slips from his grasp he must forever sink beneath the waves. the all-glorious hope, upon which i had laid such eager hold, was crumbling to ashes in my hands. i felt as if sinking down, down, amidst the bitter waters of slavery, from the unfathomable depths of which i should never rise again. the generous heart of my friend and benefactor was touched with pity at the sight of my distress. he endeavored to cheer me up, promising to return the day before christmas, and if no intelligence was received in the meantime, some further step would be undertaken to effect our design. he exhorted me to keep up my spirits--to rely upon his continued efforts in my behalf, assuring me, in most earnest and impressive language, that my liberation should, from thenceforth, be the chief object of his thoughts. in his absence the time passed slowly indeed. i looked forward to christmas with intense anxiety and impatience. i had about given up the expectation of receiving any answer to the letters. they might have miscarried, or might have been misdirected. perhaps those at saratoga, to whom they had been addressed, were all dead; perhaps, engaged in their pursuits, they did not consider the fate of an obscure, unhappy black man of sufficient importance to be noticed. my whole reliance was in bass. the faith i had in him was continually re-assuring me, and enabled me to stand up against the tide of disappointment that had overwhelmed me. so wholly was i absorbed in reflecting upon my situation and prospects, that the hands with whom i labored in the field often observed it. patsey would ask me if i was sick, and uncle abram, and bob, and wiley frequently expressed a curiosity to know what i could be thinking about so steadily. but i evaded their inquiries with some light remark, and kept my thoughts locked closely in my breast. chapter xx. bass faithful to his word--his arrival on christmas eve--the difficulty of obtaining an interview--the meeting in the cabin--non-arrival of the letter--bass announces his intention to proceed north--christmas--conversation between epps and bass--young mistress m'coy, the beauty of bayou boeuf--the "ne plus ultra" of dinners--music and dancing--presence of the mistress--her exceeding beauty--the last slave dance--william pierce--oversleep myself--the last whipping--despondency--the cold morning--epps' threats--the passing carriage--strangers approaching through the cotton-field--last hour on bayou boeuf. faithful to his word, the day before christmas, just at night-fall, bass came riding into the yard. "how are you," said epps, shaking him by the hand, "glad to see you." he would not have been _very_ glad had he known the object of his errand. "quite well, quite well," answered bass. "had some business out on the bayou, and concluded to call and see you, and stay over night." epps ordered one of the slaves to take charge of his horse, and with much talk and laughter they passed into the house together; not, however, until bass had looked at me significantly, as much as to say, "keep dark, we understand each other." it was ten o'clock at night before the labors of the day were performed, when i entered the cabin. at that time uncle abram and bob occupied it with me. i laid down upon my board and feigned i was asleep. when my companions had fallen into a profound slumber, i moved stealthily out of the door, and watched, and listened attentively for some sign or sound from bass. there i stood until long after midnight, but nothing could be seen or heard. as i suspected, he dared not leave the house, through fear of exciting the suspicion of some of the family. i judged, correctly, he would rise earlier than was his custom, and take the opportunity of seeing me before epps was up. accordingly i aroused uncle abram an hour sooner than usual, and sent him into the house to build a fire, which, at that season of the year, is a part of uncle abram's duties. i also gave bob a violent shake, and asked him if he intended to sleep till noon, saying master would be up before the mules were fed. he knew right well the consequence that would follow such an event, and, jumping to his feet, was at the horse-pasture in a twinkling. presently, when both were gone, bass slipped into the cabin. "no letter yet, platt," said he. the announcement fell upon my heart like lead. "oh, _do_ write again, master bass," i cried; "i will give you the names of a great many i know. surely they are not all dead. surely some one will pity me." "no use," bass replied, "no use. i have made up my mind to that. i fear the marksville post-master will mistrust something, i have inquired so often at his office. too uncertain--too dangerous." "then it is all over," i exclaimed. "oh, my god, how can i end my days here!" "you're not going to end them here," he said, "unless you die very soon. i've thought this matter all over, and have come to a determination. there are more ways than one to manage this business, and a better and surer way than writing letters. i have a job or two on hand which can be completed by march or april. by that time i shall have a considerable sum of money, and then, platt, i am going to saratoga myself." i could scarcely credit my own senses as the words fell from his lips. but he assured me, in a manner that left no doubt of the sincerity of his intention, that if his life was spared until spring, he should certainly undertake the journey. "i have lived in this region long enough," he continued; "i may as well be in one place as another. for a long time i have been thinking of going back once more to the place where i was born. i'm tired of slavery as well as you. if i can succeed in getting you away from here, it will be a good act that i shall like to think of all my life. and i _shall_ succeed, platt; i'm _bound_ to do it. now let me tell you what i want. epps will be up soon, and it won't do to be caught here. think of a great many men at saratoga and sandy hill, and in that neighborhood, who once knew you. i shall make excuse to come here again in the course of the winter, when i will write down their names. i will then know who to call on when i go north. think of all you can. cheer up! don't be discouraged. i'm with you, life or death. good-bye. god bless you," and saying this he left the cabin quickly, and entered the great house. it was christmas morning--the happiest day in the whole year for the slave. that morning he need not hurry to the field, with his gourd and cotton-bag. happiness sparkled in the eyes and overspread the countenances of all. the time of feasting and dancing had come. the cane and cotton fields were deserted. that day the clean dress was to be donned--the red ribbon displayed; there were to be re-unions, and joy and laughter, and hurrying to and fro. it was to be a day of _liberty_ among the children of slavery. wherefore they were happy, and rejoiced. after breakfast epps and bass sauntered about the yard, conversing upon the price of cotton, and various other topics. "where do your niggers hold christmas?" bass inquired. "platt is going to tanners to-day. his fiddle is in great demand. they want him at marshall's monday, and miss mary mccoy, on the old norwood plantation, writes me a note that she wants him to play for her niggers tuesday." "he is rather a smart boy, ain't he?" said bass. "come here, platt," he added, looking at me as i walked up to them, as if he had never thought before to take any special notice of me. "yes," replied epps, taking hold of my arm and feeling it, "there isn't a bad joint in him. there ain't a boy on the bayou worth more than he is--perfectly sound, and no bad tricks. d--n him, he isn't like other niggers; doesn't look like 'em--don't act like 'em. i was offered seventeen hundred dollars for him last week." "and didn't take it?" bass inquired, with an air of surprise. "take it--no; devilish clear of it. why, he's a reg'lar genius; can make a plough beam, wagon tongue--anything, as well as you can. marshall wanted to put up one of his niggers agin him and raffle for them, but i told him i would see the devil have him first." "i don't see anything remarkable about him," bass observed. "why, just feel of him, now," epps rejoined. "you don't see a boy very often put together any closer than he is. he's a thin-skin'd cuss, and won't bear as much whipping as some; but he's got the muscle in him, and no mistake." bass felt of me, turned me round, and made a thorough examination, epps all the while dwelling on my good points. but his visitor seemed to take but little interest finally in the subject, and consequently it was dropped. bass soon departed, giving me another sly look of recognition and significance, as he trotted out of the yard. when he was gone i obtained a pass, and started for tanner's--not peter tanner's, of whom mention has previously been made, but a relative of his. i played during the day and most of the night, spending the next day, sunday, in my cabin. monday i crossed the bayou to douglas marshall's, all epps' slaves accompanying me, and on tuesday went to the old norwood place, which is the third plantation above marshall's, on the same side of the water. this estate is now owned by miss mary mccoy, a lovely girl, some twenty years of age. she is the beauty and the glory of bayou boeuf. she owns about a hundred working hands, besides a great many house servants, yard boys, and young children. her brother-in-law, who resides on the adjoining estate, is her general agent. she is beloved by all her slaves, and good reason indeed have they to be thankful that they have fallen into such gentle hands. nowhere on the bayou are there such feasts, such merrymaking, as at young madam mccoy's. thither, more than to any other place, do the old and the young for miles around love to repair in the time of the christmas holidays; for nowhere else can they find such delicious repasts; nowhere else can they hear a voice speaking to them so pleasantly. no one is so well beloved--no one fills so large a space in the hearts of a thousand slaves, as young madam mccoy, the orphan mistress of the old norwood estate. on my arrival at her place, i found two or three hundred had assembled. the table was prepared in a long building, which she had erected expressly for her slaves to dance in. it was covered with every variety of food the country afforded, and was pronounced by general acclamation to be the rarest of dinners. roast turkey, pig, chicken, duck, and all kinds of meat, baked, boiled, and broiled, formed a line the whole length of the extended table, while the vacant spaces were filled with tarts, jellies, and frosted cake, and pastry of many kinds. the young mistress walked around the table, smiling and saying a kind word to each one, and seemed to enjoy the scene exceedingly. when the dinner was over the tables were removed to make room for the dancers. i tuned my violin and struck up a lively air; while some joined in a nimble reel, others patted and sang their simple but melodious songs, filling the great room with music mingled with the sound of human voices and the clatter of many feet. in the evening the mistress returned, and stood in the door a long time, looking at us. she was magnificently arrayed. her dark hair and eyes contrasted strongly with her clear and delicate complexion. her form was slender but commanding, and her movement was a combination of unaffected dignity and grace. as she stood there, clad in her rich apparel, her face animated with pleasure, i thought i had never looked upon a human being half so beautiful. i dwell with delight upon the description of this fair and gentle lady, not only because she inspired me with emotions of gratitude and admiration, but because i would have the reader understand that all slave-owners on bayou boeuf are not like epps, or tibeats, or jim burns. occasionally can be found, rarely it may be, indeed, a good man like william ford, or an angel of kindness like young mistress mccoy. tuesday concluded the three holidays epps yearly allowed us. on my way home, wednesday morning, while passing the plantation of william pierce, that gentleman hailed me, saying he had received a line from epps, brought down by william varnell, permitting him to detain me for the purpose of playing for his slaves that night. it was the last time i was destined to witness a slave dance on the shores of bayou boeuf. the party at pierce's continued their jollification until broad daylight, when i returned to my master's house, somewhat wearied with the loss of rest, but rejoicing in the possession of numerous bits and picayunes, which the whites, who were pleased with my musical performances, had contributed. on saturday morning, for the first time in years, i overslept myself. i was frightened on coming out of the cabin to find the slaves were already in the field. they had preceded me some fifteen minutes. leaving my dinner and water-gourd, i hurried after them as fast as i could move. it was not yet sunrise, but epps was on the piazza as i left the hut, and cried out to me that it was a pretty time of day to be getting up. by extra exertion my row was up when he came out after breakfast. this, however, was no excuse for the offence of oversleeping. bidding me strip and lie down, he gave me ten or fifteen lashes, at the conclusion of which he inquired if i thought, after that, i could get up sometime in the _morning_. i expressed myself quite positively that i _could_, and, with back stinging with pain, went about my work. the following day, sunday, my thoughts were upon bass, and the probabilities and hopes which hung upon his action and determination. i considered the uncertainty of life; that if it should be the will of god that he should die, my prospect of deliverance, and all expectation of happiness in this world, would be wholly ended and destroyed. my sore back, perhaps, did not have a tendency to render me unusually cheerful. i felt down-hearted and unhappy all day long, and when i laid down upon the hard board at night, my heart was oppressed with such a load of grief, it seemed that it must break. monday morning, the third of january, 1853, we were in the field betimes. it was a raw, cold morning, such as is unusual in that region. i was in advance, uncle abram next to me, behind him bob, patsey and wiley, with our cotton-bags about our necks. epps happened (a rare thing, indeed,) to come out that morning without his whip. he swore, in a manner that would shame a pirate, that we were doing nothing. bob ventured to say that his fingers were so numb with cold he couldn't pick fast. epps cursed himself for not having brought his rawhide, and declared that when he came out again he would warm us well; yes, he would make us all hotter than that fiery realm in which i am sometimes compelled to believe he will himself eventually reside. with these fervent expressions, he left us. when out of hearing, we commenced talking to each other, saying how hard it was to be compelled to keep up our tasks with numb fingers; how unreasonable master was, and speaking of him generally in no flattering terms. our conversation was interrupted by a carriage passing rapidly towards the house. looking up, we saw two men approaching us through the cotton-field. * * * * * having now brought down this narrative to the last hour i was to spend on bayou boeuf--having gotten through my last cotton picking, and about to bid master epps farewell--i must beg the reader to go back with me to the month of august; to follow bass' letter on its long journey to saratoga; to learn the effect it produced--and that, while i was repining and despairing in the slave hut of edwin epps, through the friendship of bass and the goodness of providence, all things were working together for my deliverance. chapter xxi. the letter reaches saratoga--is forwarded to anne--is laid before henry b. northup--the statute of may 14, 1840--its provisions--anne's memorial to the governor--the affidavits accompanying it--senator soule's letter--departure of the agent appointed by the governor--arrival at marksville--the hon. john p. waddill--the conversation on new-york politics--it suggests a fortunate idea--the meeting with bass--the secret out--legal proceedings instituted--departure of northup and the sheriff from marksville for bayou boeuf--arrangements on the way--reach epps' plantation--discover his slaves in the cotton field--the meeting--the farewell. i am indebted to mr. henry b. northup and others for many of the particulars contained in this chapter. the letter written by bass, directed to parker and perry, and which was deposited in the post-office in marksville on the 15th day of august, 1852, arrived at saratoga in the early part of september. some time previous to this, anne had removed to glens falls, warren county, where she had charge of the kitchen in carpenter's hotel. she kept house, however, lodging with our children, and was only absent from them during such time as the discharge of her duties in the hotel required. messrs. parker and perry, on receipt of the letter, forwarded it immediately to anne. on reading it the children were all excitement, and without delay hastened to the neighboring village of sandy hill, to consult henry b. northup, and obtain his advice and assistance in the matter. upon examination, that gentleman found among the statutes of the state an act providing for the recovery of free citizens from slavery. it was passed may 14, 1840, and is entitled "an act more effectually to protect the free citizens of this state from being kidnapped or reduced to slavery." it provides that it shall be the duty of the governor, upon the receipt of satisfactory information that any free citizen or inhabitant of this state, is wrongfully held in another state or territory of the united states, upon the allegation or pretence that such person is a slave, or by color of any usage or rule of law is deemed or taken to be a slave, to take such measures to procure the restoration of such person to liberty, as he shall deem necessary. and to that end, he is authorized to appoint and employ an agent, and directed to furnish him with such credentials and instructions as will be likely to accomplish the object of his appointment. it requires the agent so appointed to proceed to collect the proper proof to establish the right of such person to his freedom; to perform such journeys, take such measures, institute such legal proceedings, &c., as may be necessary to return such person to this state, and charges all expenses incurred in carrying the act into effect, upon moneys not otherwise appropriated in the treasury.[1] it was necessary to establish two facts to the satisfaction of the governor: first, that i was a free citizen of new-york; and secondly, that i was wrongfully held in bondage. as to the first point, there was no difficulty, all the older inhabitants in the vicinity being ready to testify to it. the second point rested entirely upon the letter to parker and perry, written in an unknown hand, and upon the letter penned on board the brig orleans, which, unfortunately, had been mislaid or lost. a memorial was prepared, directed to his excellency, governor hunt, setting forth her marriage, my departure to washington city; the receipt of the letters; that i was a free citizen, and such other facts as were deemed important, and was signed and verified by anne. accompanying this memorial were several affidavits of prominent citizens of sandy hill and fort edward, corroborating fully the statements it contained, and also a request of several well known gentlemen to the governor, that henry b. northup be appointed agent under the legislative act. on reading the memorial and affidavits, his excellency took a lively interest in the matter, and on the 23d day of november, 1852, under the seal of the state, "constituted, appointed and employed henry b. northup, esq., an agent, with full power to effect" my restoration, and to take such measures as would be most likely to accomplish it, and instructing him to proceed to louisiana with all convenient dispatch.[2] the pressing nature of mr. northup's professional and political engagements delayed his departure until december. on the fourteenth day of that month he left sandy hill, and proceeded to washington. the hon. pierre soule, senator in congress from louisiana, hon. mr. conrad, secretary of war, and judge nelson, of the supreme court of the united states, upon hearing a statement of the facts, and examining his commission, and certified copies of the memorial and affidavits, furnished him with open letters to gentlemen in louisiana, strongly urging their assistance in accomplishing the object of his appointment. senator soule especially interested himself in the matter, insisting, in forcible language, that it was the duty and interest of every planter in his state to aid in restoring me to freedom, and trusted the sentiments of honor and justice in the bosom of every citizen of the commonwealth would enlist him at once in my behalf. having obtained these valuable letters, mr. northup returned to baltimore, and proceeded from thence to pittsburgh. it was his original intention, under advice of friends at washington, to go directly to new orleans, and consult the authorities of that city. providentially, however, on arriving at the mouth of red river, he changed his mind. had he continued on, he would not have met with bass, in which case the search for me would probably have been fruitless. taking passage on the first steamer that arrived, he pursued his journey up red river, a sluggish, winding stream, flowing through a vast region of primitive forests and impenetrable swamps, almost wholly destitute of inhabitants. about nine o'clock in the forenoon, january 1st, 1853, he left the steamboat at marksville, and proceeded directly to marksville court house, a small village four miles in the interior. from the fact that the letter to messrs. parker and perry was post-marked at marksville, it was supposed by him that i was in that place or its immediate vicinity. on reaching this town, he at once laid his business before the hon. john p. waddill, a legal gentleman of distinction, and a man of fine genius and most noble impulses. after reading the letters and documents presented him, and listening to a representation of the circumstances under which i had been carried away into captivity, mr. waddill at once proffered his services, and entered into the affair with great zeal and earnestness. he, in common with others of like elevated character, looked upon the kidnapper with abhorrence. the title of his fellow parishioners and clients to the property which constituted the larger proportion of their wealth, not only depended upon the good faith in which slave sales were transacted, but he was a man in whose honorable heart emotions of indignation were aroused by such an instance of injustice. marksville, although occupying a prominent position, and standing out in impressive italics on the map of louisiana, is, in fact, but a small and insignificant hamlet. aside from the tavern, kept by a jolly and generous boniface, the court house, inhabited by lawless cows and swine in the seasons of vacation, and a high gallows, with its dissevered rope dangling in the air, there is little to attract the attention of the stranger. solomon northup was a name mr. waddill had never heard, but he was confident that if there was a slave bearing that appellation in marksville or vicinity, his black boy tom would know him. tom was accordingly called, but in all his extensive circle of acquaintances there was no such personage. the letter to parker and perry was dated at bayou boeuf. at this place, therefore, the conclusion was, i must be sought. but here a difficulty suggested itself, of a very grave character indeed. bayou boeuf, at its nearest point, was twenty-three miles distant, and was the name applied to the section of country extending between fifty and a hundred miles, on both sides of that stream. thousands and thousands of slaves resided upon its shores, the remarkable richness and fertility of the soil having attracted thither a great number of planters. the information in the letter was so vague and indefinite as to render it difficult to conclude upon any specific course of proceeding. it was finally determined, however, as the only plan that presented any prospect of success, that northup and the brother of waddill, a student in the office of the latter, should repair to the bayou, and traveling up one side and down the other its whole length, inquire at each plantation for me. mr. waddill tendered the use of his carriage, and it was definitely arranged that they should start upon the excursion early monday morning. it will be seen at once that this course, in all probability, would have resulted unsuccessfully. it would have been impossible for them to have gone into the fields and examine all the gangs at work. they were not aware that i was known only as platt; and had they inquired of epps himself, he would have stated truly that he knew nothing of solomon northup. the arrangement being adopted, however, there was nothing further to be done until sunday had elapsed. the conversation between messrs. northup and waddill, in the course of the afternoon, turned upon new-york politics. "i can scarcely comprehend the nice distinctions and shades of political parties in your state," observed mr. waddill. "i read of soft-shells and hard-shells, hunkers and barnburners, woolly-heads and silver-grays, and am unable to understand the precise difference between them. pray, what is it?" mr. northup, re-filling his pipe, entered into quite an elaborate narrative of the origin of the various sections of parties, and concluded by saying there was another party in new-york, known as free-soilers or abolitionists. "you have seen none of those in this part of the country, i presume?" mr. northup remarked. "never, but one," answered waddill, laughingly. "we have one here in marksville, an eccentric creature, who preaches abolitionism as vehemently as any fanatic at the north. he is a generous, inoffensive man, but always maintaining the wrong side of an argument. it affords us a deal of amusement. he is an excellent mechanic, and almost indispensable in this community. he is a carpenter. his name is bass." some further good-natured conversation was had at the expense of bass' peculiarities, when waddill all at once fell into a reflective mood, and asked for the mysterious letter again. "let me see--l-e-t m-e s-e-e!" he repeated, thoughtfully to himself, running his eyes over the letter once more. "'bayou boeuf, august 15.' august 15--post-marked here. 'he that is writing for me--' where did bass work last summer?" he inquired, turning suddenly to his brother. his brother was unable to inform him, but rising, left the office, and soon returned with the intelligence that "bass worked last summer somewhere on bayou boeuf." "he is the man," bringing down his hand emphatically on the table, "who can tell us all about solomon northup," exclaimed waddill. bass was immediately searched for, but could not be found. after some inquiry, it was ascertained he was at the landing on red river. procuring a conveyance, young waddill and northup were not long in traversing the few miles to the latter place. on their arrival, bass was found, just on the point of leaving, to be absent a fortnight or more. after an introduction, northup begged the privilege of speaking to him privately a moment. they walked together towards the river, when the following conversation ensued: "mr. bass," said northup, "allow me to ask you if you were on bayou boeuf last august?" "yes, sir, i was there in august," was the reply. "did you write a letter for a colored man at that place to some gentleman in saratoga springs?" "excuse me, sir, if i say that is none of your business," answered bass, stopping and looking his interrogator searchingly in the face. "perhaps i am rather hasty, mr. bass; i beg your pardon; but i have come from the state of new-york to accomplish the purpose the writer of a letter dated the 15th of august, post-marked at marksville, had in view. circumstances have led me to think that you are perhaps the man who wrote it. i am in search of solomon northup. if you know him, i beg you to inform me frankly where he is, and i assure you the source of any information you may give me shall not be divulged, if you desire it not to be." a long time bass looked his new acquaintance steadily in the eyes, without opening his lips. he seemed to be doubting in his own mind if there was not an attempt to practice some deception upon him. finally he said, deliberately-"i have done nothing to be ashamed of. i am the man who wrote the letter. if you have come to rescue solomon northup, i am glad to see you." "when did you last see him, and where is he?" northup inquired. "i last saw him christmas, a week ago to-day. he is the slave of edwin epps, a planter on bayou boeuf, near holmesville. he is not known as solomon northup; he is called platt." the secret was out--the mystery was unraveled. through the thick, black cloud, amid whose dark and dismal shadows i had walked twelve years, broke the star that was to light me back to liberty. all mistrust and hesitation were soon thrown aside, and the two men conversed long and freely upon the subject uppermost in their thoughts. bass expressed the interest he had taken in my behalf--his intention of going north in the spring, and declaring that he had resolved to accomplish my emancipation, if it were in his power. he described the commencement and progress of his acquaintance with me, and listened with eager curiosity to the account given him of my family, and the history of my early life. before separating, he drew a map of the bayou on a strip of paper with a piece of red chalk, showing the locality of epps' plantation, and the road leading most directly to it. northup and his young companion returned to marksville, where it was determined to commence legal proceedings to test the question of my right to freedom. i was made plaintiff, mr. northup acting as my guardian, and edwin epps defendant. the process to be issued was in the nature of replevin, directed to the sheriff of the parish, commanding him to take me into custody, and detain me until the decision of the court. by the time the papers were duly drawn up, it was twelve o'clock at night--too late to obtain the necessary signature of the judge, who resided some distance out of town. further business was therefore suspended until monday morning. everything, apparently, was moving along swimmingly, until sunday afternoon, when waddill called at northup's room to express his apprehension of difficulties they had not expected to encounter. bass had become alarmed, and had placed his affairs in the hands of a person at the landing, communicating to him his intention of leaving the state. this person had betrayed the confidence reposed in him to a certain extent, and a rumor began to float about the town, that the stranger at the hotel, who had been observed in the company of lawyer waddill, was after one of old epps' slaves, over on the bayou. epps was known at marksville, having frequent occasion to visit that place during the session of the courts, and the fear entertained by mr. northup's adviser was, that intelligence would be conveyed to him in the night, giving him an opportunity of secreting me before the arrival of the sheriff. this apprehension had the effect of expediting matters considerably. the sheriff, who lived in one direction from the village, was requested to hold himself in readiness immediately after midnight, while the judge was informed he would be called upon at the same time. it is but justice to say, that the authorities at marksville cheerfully rendered all the assistance in their power. as soon after midnight as bail could be perfected, and the judge's signature obtained, a carriage, containing mr. northup and the sheriff, driven by the landlord's son, rolled rapidly out of the village of marksville, on the road towards bayou boeuf. it was supposed that epps would contest the issue involving my right to liberty, and it therefore suggested itself to mr. northup, that the testimony of the sheriff, describing my first meeting with the former, might perhaps become material on the trial. it was accordingly arranged during the ride, that, before i had an opportunity of speaking to mr. northup, the sheriff should propound to me certain questions agreed upon, such as the number and names of my children, the name of my wife before marriage, of places i knew at the north, and so forth. if my answers corresponded with the statements given him, the evidence must necessarily be considered conclusive. at length, shortly after epps had left the field, with the consoling assurance that he would soon return and _warm_ us, as was stated in the conclusion of the preceding chapter, they came in sight of the plantation, and discovered us at work. alighting from the carriage, and directing the driver to proceed to the great house, with instructions not to mention to any one the object of their errand until they met again, northup and the sheriff turned from the highway, and came towards us across the cotton field. we observed them, on looking up at the carriage--one several rods in advance of the other. it was a singular and unusual thing to see white men approaching us in that manner, and especially at that early hour in the morning, and uncle abram and patsey made some remarks, expressive of their astonishment. walking up to bob, the sheriff inquired: "where's the boy they call platt?" "thar he is, massa," answered bob, pointing to me, and twitching off his hat. i wondered to myself what business he could possibly have with me, and turning round, gazed at him until he had approached within a step. during my long residence on the bayou, i had become familiar with the face of every planter within many miles; but this man was an utter stranger--certainly i had never seen him before. "your name is platt, is it?" he asked. "yes, master," i responded. pointing towards northup, standing a few rods distant, he demanded--"do you know that man?" i looked in the direction indicated, and as my eyes rested on his countenance, a world of images thronged my brain; a multitude of well-known faces--anne's, and the dear children's, and my old dead father's; all the scenes and associations of childhood and youth; all the friends of other and happier days, appeared and disappeared, flitting and floating like dissolving shadows before the vision of my imagination, until at last the perfect memory of the man recurred to me, and throwing up my hands towards heaven, i exclaimed, in a voice louder than i could utter in a less exciting moment-"_henry b. northup!_ thank god--thank god!" in an instant i comprehended the nature of his business, and felt that the hour of my deliverance was at hand. i started towards him, but the sheriff stepped before me. "stop a moment," said he; "have you any other name than platt?" "solomon northup is my name, master," i replied. "have you a family?" he inquired. "i _had_ a wife and three children." "what were your children's names?" "elizabeth, margaret and alonzo." "and your wife's name before her marriage?" "anne hampton." "who married you?" "timothy eddy, of fort edward." "where does that gentleman live?" again pointing to northup, who remained standing in the same place where i had first recognized him. "he lives in sandy hill, washington county, new-york," was the reply. he was proceeding to ask further questions, but i pushed past him, unable longer to restrain myself. i seized my old acquaintance by both hands. i could not speak. i could not refrain from tears. "sol," he said at length, "i'm glad to see you." i essayed to make some answer, but emotion choked all utterance, and i was silent. the slaves, utterly confounded, stood gazing upon the scene, their open mouths and rolling eyes indicating the utmost wonder and astonishment. for ten years i had dwelt among them, in the field and in the cabin, borne the same hardships, partaken the same fare, mingled my griefs with theirs, participated in the same scanty joys; nevertheless, not until this hour, the last i was to remain among them, had the remotest suspicion of my true name, or the slightest knowledge of my real history, been entertained by any one of them. not a word was spoken for several minutes, during which time i clung fast to northup, looking up into his face, fearful i should awake and find it all a dream. "throw down that sack," northup added, finally; "your cotton-picking days are over. come with us to the man you live with." i obeyed him, and walking between him and the sheriff, we moved towards the great house. it was not until we had proceeded some distance that i had recovered my voice sufficiently to ask if my family were all living. he informed me he had seen anne, margaret and elizabeth but a short time previously; that alonzo was also living, and all were well. my mother, however, i could never see again. as i began to recover in some measure from the sudden and great excitement which so overwhelmed me, i grew faint and weak, insomuch it was with difficulty i could walk. the sheriff took hold of my arm and assisted me, or i think i should have fallen. as we entered the yard, epps stood by the gate, conversing with the driver. that young man, faithful to his instructions, was entirely unable to give him the least information in answer to his repeated inquiries of what was going on. by the time we reached him he was almost as much amazed and puzzled as bob or uncle abram. shaking hands with the sheriff, and receiving an introduction to mr. northup, he invited them into the house, ordering me, at the same time, to bring in some wood. it was some time before i succeeded in cutting an armful, having, somehow, unaccountably lost the power of wielding the axe with any manner of precision. when i entered with it at last, the table was strewn with papers, from one of which northup was reading. i was probably longer than necessity required, in placing the sticks upon the fire, being particular as to the exact position of each individual one of them. i heard the words, "the said solomon northup," and "the deponent further says," and "free citizen of new-york," repeated frequently, and from these expressions understood that the secret i had so long retained from master and mistress epps, was finally developing. i lingered as long as prudence permitted, and was about leaving the room, when epps inquired, [illustration: scene in the cotton field, solomon delivered up.] "platt, do you know this gentleman?" "yes, master," i replied, "i have known him as long as i can remember." "where does he live?" "he lives in new-york." "did you ever live there?" "yes, master--born and bred there." "you was free, then. now you d----d nigger," he exclaimed, "why did you not tell me that when i bought you?" "master epps," i answered, in a somewhat different tone than the one in which i had been accustomed to address him--"master epps, you did not take the trouble to ask me; besides, i told one of my owners--the man that kidnapped me--that i was free, and was whipped almost to death for it." "it seems there has been a letter written for you by somebody. now, who is it?" he demanded, authoritatively. i made no reply. "i say, who wrote that letter?" he demanded again. "perhaps i wrote it myself," i said. "you haven't been to marksville post-office and back before light, i know." he insisted upon my informing him, and i insisted i would not. he made many vehement threats against the man, whoever he might be, and intimated the bloody and savage vengeance he would wreak upon him, when he found him out. his whole manner and language exhibited a feeling of anger towards the unknown person who had written for me, and of fretfulness at the idea of losing so much property. addressing mr. northup, he swore if he had only had an hour's notice of his coming, he would have saved him the trouble of taking me back to new-york; that he would have run me into the swamp, or some other place out of the way, where all the sheriffs on earth couldn't have found me. i walked out into the yard, and was entering the kitchen door, when something struck me in the back. aunt phebe, emerging from the back door of the great house with a pan of potatoes, had thrown one of them with unnecessary violence, thereby giving me to understand that she wished to speak to me a moment confidentially. running up to me, she whispered in my ear with great earnestness, "lor a' mity, platt! what d'ye think? dem two men come after ye. heard 'em tell massa you free--got wife and tree children back thar whar you come from. goin' wid 'em? fool if ye don't--wish i could go," and aunt phebe ran on in this manner at a rapid rate. presently mistress epps made her appearance in the kitchen. she said many things to me, and wondered why i had not told her who i was. she expressed her regret, complimenting me by saying she had rather lose any other servant on the plantation. had patsey that day stood in my place, the measure of my mistress' joy would have overflowed. now there was no one left who could mend a chair or a piece of furniture--no one who was of any use about the house--no one who could play for her on the violin--and mistress epps was actually affected to tears. epps had called to bob to bring up his saddle horse. the other slaves, also, overcoming their fear of the penalty, had left their work and come to the yard. they were standing behind the cabins, out of sight of epps. they beckoned me to come to them, and with all the eagerness of curiosity, excited to the highest pitch, conversed with and questioned me. if i could repeat the exact words they uttered, with the same emphasis--if i could paint their several attitudes, and the expression of their countenances--it would be indeed an interesting picture. in their estimation, i had suddenly arisen to an immeasurable height--had become a being of immense importance. the legal papers having been served, and arrangements made with epps to meet them the next day at marksville, northup and the sheriff entered the carriage to return to the latter place. as i was about mounting to the driver's seat, the sheriff said i ought to bid mr. and mrs. epps good bye. i ran back to the piazza where they were standing, and taking off my hat, said, "good-bye, missis." "good-bye, platt," said mrs. epps, kindly. "good-bye, master." "ah! you d--d nigger," muttered epps, in a surly, malicious tone of voice, "you needn't feel so cussed tickled--you ain't gone yet--i'll see about this business at marksville to-morrow." i was only a "_nigger_" and knew my place, but felt as strongly as if i had been a white man, that it would have been an inward comfort, had i dared to have given him a parting kick. on my way back to the carriage, patsey ran from behind a cabin and threw her arms about my neck. "oh! platt," she cried, tears streaming down her face, "you're goin' to be free--you're goin' way off yonder where we'll neber see ye any more. you've saved me a good many whippins, platt; i'm glad you're goin' to be free--but oh! de lord, de lord! what'll become of me?" i disengaged myself from her, and entered the carriage. the driver cracked his whip and away we rolled. i looked back and saw patsey, with drooping head, half reclining on the ground; mrs. epps was on the piazza; uncle abram, and bob, and wiley, and aunt phebe stood by the gate, gazing after me. i waved my hand, but the carriage turned a bend of the bayou, hiding them from my eyes forever. we stopped a moment at carey's sugar house, where a great number of slaves were at work, such an establishment being a curiosity to a northern man. epps dashed by us on horseback at full speed--on the way, as we learned next day, to the "pine woods," to see william ford, who had brought me into the country. tuesday, the fourth of january, epps and his counsel, the hon. h. taylor, northup, waddill, the judge and sheriff of avoyelles, and myself, met in a room in the village of marksville. mr. northup stated the facts in regard to me, and presented his commission, and the affidavits accompanying it. the sheriff described the scene in the cotton field. i was also interrogated at great length. finally, mr. taylor assured his client that he was satisfied, and that litigation would not only be expensive, but utterly useless. in accordance with his advice, a paper was drawn up and signed by the proper parties, wherein epps acknowledged he was satisfied of my right to freedom, and formally surrendered me to the authorities of new-york. it was also stipulated that it be entered of record in the recorder's office of avoyelles.[3] mr. northup and myself immediately hastened to the landing, and taking passage on the first steamer that arrived, were soon floating down red river, up which, with such desponding thoughts, i had been borne twelve years before. footnotes: [1] see appendix a. [2] see appendix b. [3] see appendix c. chapter xxii. arrival in new-orleans--glimpse of freeman--genois, the recorder--his description of solomon--reach charleston--interrupted by custom house officers--pass through richmond--arrival in washington--burch arrested--shekels and thorn--their testimony--burch acquitted--arrest of solomon--burch withdraws the complaint--the higher tribunal--departure from washington--arrival at sandy hill--old friends and familiar scenes--proceed to glens falls--meeting with anne, margaret and elizabeth--solomon northup staunton--incidents--conclusion. as the steamer glided on its way towards new-orleans, _perhaps_ i was not happy--_perhaps_ there was no difficulty in restraining myself from dancing round the deck--perhaps i did not feel grateful to the man who had come so many hundred miles for me--perhaps i did not light his pipe, and wait and watch his word, and run at his slightest bidding. if i didn't--well, no matter. we tarried at new-orleans two days. during that time i pointed out the locality of freeman's slave pen, and the room in which ford purchased me. we happened to meet theophilus in the street, but i did not think it worth while to renew acquaintance with him. from respectable citizens we ascertained he had become a low, miserable rowdy--a broken-down, disreputable man. we also visited the recorder, mr. genois, to whom senator soule's letter was directed, and found him a man well deserving the wide and honorable reputation that he bears. he very generously furnished us with a sort of legal pass, over his signature and seal of office, and as it contains the recorder's description of my personal appearance, it may not be amiss to insert it here. the following is a copy: "_state of louisiana_--_city of new-orleans_: recorder's office, second district. "to all to whom these presents shall come:- "this is to certify that henry b. northup, esquire, of the county of washington, new-york, has produced before me due evidence of the freedom of solomon, a mulatto man, aged about forty-two years, five feet, seven inches and six lines, woolly hair, and chestnut eyes, who is a native born of the state of new-york. that the said northup, being about bringing the said solomon to his native place, through the southern routes, the civil authorities are requested to let the aforesaid colored man solomon pass unmolested, he demeaning well and properly. "given under my hand and the seal of the city of new-orleans this 7th january, 1853. [l. s.] "th. genois, recorder." on the 8th we came to lake pontchartrain, by railroad, and, in due time, following the usual route, reached charleston. after going on board the steamboat, and paying our passage at this city, mr. northup was called upon by a custom-house officer to explain why he had not registered his servant. he replied that he had no servant--that, as the agent of new-york, he was accompanying a free citizen of that state from slavery to freedom, and did not desire nor intend to make any registry whatever. i conceived from his conversation and manner, though i may perhaps be entirely mistaken, that no great pains would be taken to avoid whatever difficulty the charleston officials might deem proper to create. at length, however, we were permitted to proceed, and, passing through richmond, where i caught a glimpse of goodin's pen, arrived in washington january 17th, 1853. we ascertained that both burch and radburn were still residing in that city. immediately a complaint was entered with a police magistrate of washington, against james h. burch, for kidnapping and selling me into slavery. he was arrested upon a warrant issued by justice goddard, and returned before justice mansel, and held to bail in the sum of three thousand dollars. when first arrested, burch was much excited, exhibiting the utmost fear and alarm, and before reaching the justice's office on louisiana avenue, and before knowing the precise nature of the complaint, begged the police to permit him to consult benjamin o. shekels, a slave trader of seventeen years' standing, and his former partner. the latter became his bail. at ten o'clock, the 18th of january, both parties appeared before the magistrate. senator chase, of ohio, hon. orville clark, of sandy hill, and mr. northup acted as counsel for the prosecution, and joseph h. bradley for the defence. gen. orville clark was called and sworn as a witness, and testified that he had known me from childhood, and that i was a free man, as was my father before me. mr. northup then testified to the same, and proved the facts connected with his mission to avoyelles. ebenezer radburn was then sworn for the prosecution, and testified he was forty-eight years old; that he was a resident of washington, and had known burch fourteen years; that in 1841 he was keeper of williams' slave pen; that he remembered the fact of my confinement in the pen that year. at this point it was admitted by the defendant's counsel, that i had been placed in the pen by burch in the spring of 1841, and hereupon the prosecution rested. benjamin o. shekels was then offered as a witness by the prisoner. benjamin is a large, coarse-featured man, and the reader may perhaps get a somewhat correct conception of him by reading the exact language he used in answer to the first question of defendant's lawyer. he was asked the place of his nativity, and his reply, uttered in a sort of rowdyish way, was in these very words-"i was born in ontario county, new-york, and _weighed fourteen pounds_!" benjamin was a prodigious baby! he further testified that he kept the steamboat hotel in washington in 1841, and saw me there in the spring of that year. he was proceeding to state what he had heard two men say, when senator chase raised a legal objection, to wit, that the sayings of third persons, being hearsay, was improper evidence. the objection was overruled by the justice, and shekels continued, stating that two men came to his hotel and represented they had a colored man for sale; that they had an interview with burch; that they stated they came from georgia, but he did not remember the county; that they gave a full history of the boy, saying he was a bricklayer, and played on the violin; that burch remarked he would purchase if they could agree; that they went out and brought the boy in, and that i was the same person. he further testified, with as much unconcern as if it was the truth, that i represented i was born and bred in georgia; that one of the young men with me was my master; that i exhibited a great deal of regret at parting with him, and he believed "got into tears!"--nevertheless, that i insisted my master had a right to sell me; that he _ought_ to sell me; and the remarkable reason i gave was, according to shekels, because he, my master, "had been gambling and on a spree!" he continued, in these words, copied from the minutes taken on the examination: "burch interrogated the boy in the usual manner, told him if he purchased him he should send him south. the boy said he had no objection, that in fact he would like to go south. burch paid $650 for him, to my knowledge. i don't know what name was given him, but think it was not solomon. did not know the name of either of the two men. they were in my tavern two or three hours, during which time the boy played on the violin. the bill of sale was signed in my bar-room. it was a _printed blank, filled up by burch_. before 1838 burch was my partner. our business was buying and selling slaves. after that time he was a partner of theophilus freeman, of new-orleans. burch bought here--freeman sold there!" shekels, before testifying, had heard my relation of the circumstances connected with the visit to washington with brown and hamilton, and therefore, it was, undoubtedly, he spoke of "two men," and of my playing on the violin. such was his fabrication, utterly untrue, and yet there was found in washington a man who endeavored to corroborate him. benjamin a. thorn testified he was at shekels' in 1841, and saw a colored boy playing on a fiddle. "shekels said he was for sale. heard his master tell him he should sell him. the boy acknowledged to me he was a slave. i was not present when the money was paid. will not swear positively this is the boy. the master _came near shedding tears: i think the boy did_! i have been engaged in the business of taking slaves south, off and on, for twenty years. when i can't do that i do something else." i was then offered as a witness, but, objection being made, the court decided my evidence inadmissible. it was rejected solely on the ground that i was a colored man--the fact of my being a free citizen of new-york not being disputed. shekels having testified there was a bill of sale executed, burch was called upon by the prosecution to produce it, inasmuch as such a paper would corroborate the testimony of thorn and shekels. the prisoner's counsel saw the necessity of exhibiting it, or giving some reasonable explanation for its non-production. to effect the latter, burch himself was offered as a witness in his own behalf. it was contended by counsel for the people, that such testimony should not be allowed--that it was in contravention of every rule of evidence, and if permitted would defeat the ends of justice. his testimony, however, was received by the court! he made oath that such a bill of sale had been drawn up and signed, _but he had lost it, and did not know what had become of it_! thereupon the magistrate was requested to dispatch a police officer to burch's residence, with directions to bring his books, containing his bills of sales for the year 1841. the request was granted, and before any measure could be taken to prevent it, the officer had obtained possession of the books, and brought them into court. the sales for the year 1841 were found, and carefully examined, but no sale of myself, by any name, was discovered! upon this testimony the court held the fact to be established, that burch came innocently and honestly by me, and accordingly he was discharged. an attempt was then made by burch and his satellites, to fasten upon me the charge that i had conspired with the two white men to defraud him--with what success, appears in an extract taken from an article in the new-york times, published a day or two subsequent to the trial: "the counsel for the defendant had drawn up, before the defendant was discharged, an affidavit, signed by burch, and had a warrant out against the colored man for a conspiracy with the two white men before referred to, to defraud burch out of six hundred and twenty-five dollars. the warrant was served, and the colored man arrested and brought before officer goddard. burch and his witnesses appeared in court, and h. b. northup appeared as counsel for the colored man, stating he was ready to proceed as counsel on the part of the defendant, and asking no delay whatever. burch, after consulting privately a short time with shekels, stated to the magistrate that he wished him to dismiss the complaint, as he would not proceed farther with it. defendant's counsel stated to the magistrate that if the complaint was withdrawn, it must be without the request or consent of the defendant. burch then asked the magistrate to let him have the complaint and the warrant, and he took them. the counsel for the defendant objected to his receiving them, and insisted they should remain as part of the records of the court, and that the court should endorse the proceedings which had been had under the process. burch delivered them up, and the court rendered a judgment of discontinuance by the request of the prosecutor, and filed it in his office." * * * * * there may be those who will affect to believe the statement of the slave-trader--those, in whose minds his allegations will weigh heavier than mine. i am a poor colored man--one of a down-trodden and degraded race, whose humble voice may not be heeded by the oppressor--but _knowing_ the truth, and with a full sense of my accountability, i do solemnly declare before men, and before god, that any charge or assertion, that i conspired directly or indirectly with any person or persons to sell myself; that any other account of my visit to washington, my capture and imprisonment in williams' slave pen, than is contained in these pages, is utterly and absolutely false. i never played on the violin in washington. i never was in the steamboat hotel, and never saw thorn or shekels, to my knowledge, in my life, until last january. the story of the trio of slave-traders is a fabrication as absurd as it is base and unfounded. were it true, i should not have turned aside on my way back to liberty for the purpose of prosecuting burch. i should have _avoided_ rather than sought him. i should have known that such a step would have resulted in rendering me infamous. under the circumstances--longing as i did to behold my family, and elated with the prospect of returning home--it is an outrage upon probability to suppose i would have run the hazard, not only of exposure, but of a criminal prosecution and conviction, by voluntarily placing myself in the position i did, if the statements of burch and his confederates contain a particle of truth. i took pains to seek him out, to confront him in a court of law, charging him with the crime of kidnapping; and the only motive that impelled me to this step, was a burning sense of the wrong he had inflicted upon me, and a desire to bring him to justice. he was acquitted, in the manner, and by such means as have been described. a human tribunal has permitted him to escape; but there is another and a higher tribunal, where false testimony will not prevail, and where i am willing, so far at least as these statements are concerned, to be judged at last. * * * * * we left washington on the 20th of january, and proceeding by the way of philadelphia, new-york, and albany, reached sandy hill in the night of the 21st. my heart overflowed with happiness as i looked around upon old familiar scenes, and found myself in the midst of friends of other days. the following morning i started, in company with several acquaintances, for glens falls, the residence of anne and our children. as i entered their comfortable cottage, margaret was the first that met me. she did not recognize me. when i left her, she was but seven years old, a little prattling girl, playing with her toys. now she was grown to womanhood--was married, with a bright-eyed boy standing by her side. not forgetful of his enslaved, unfortunate grand-father, she had named the child solomon northup staunton. when told who i was, she was overcome with emotion, and unable to speak. presently elizabeth entered the room, and anne came running from the hotel, having been informed of my arrival. they embraced me, and with tears flowing down their cheeks, hung upon my neck. but i draw a veil over a scene which can better be imagined than described. when the violence of our emotions had subsided to a sacred joy--when the household gathered round the fire, that sent out its warm and crackling comfort through the room, we conversed of the thousand events that had occurred--the hopes and fears, the joys and sorrows, the trials and troubles we had each experienced during the long separation. alonzo was absent in the western part of the state. the boy had written to his mother a short time previous, of the prospect of his obtaining sufficient money to purchase my freedom. from his earliest years, that had been the chief object of his thoughts and his ambition. they knew i was in bondage. the letter written on board the brig, and clem ray himself, had given them that information. but where i was, until the arrival of bass' letter, was a matter of conjecture. elizabeth and margaret once returned from school--so anne informed me--weeping bitterly. on inquiring the cause of the children's sorrow, it was found that, while studying geography, their attention had been attracted to the picture of slaves working in the cotton-field, and an overseer following them with his whip. it reminded them of the sufferings their father might be, and, as it happened, actually _was_, enduring in the south. numerous incidents, such as these, were related--incidents showing they still held me in constant remembrance, but not, perhaps, of sufficient interest to the reader, to be recounted. [illustration: arrival home, and first meeting with his wife and children] * * * * * my narrative is at an end. i have no comments to make upon the subject of slavery. those who read this book may form their own opinions of the "peculiar institution." what it may be in other states, i do not profess to know; what it is in the region of red river, is truly and faithfully delineated in these pages. this is no fiction, no exaggeration. if i have failed in anything, it has been in presenting to the reader too prominently the bright side of the picture. i doubt not hundreds have been as unfortunate as myself; that hundreds of free citizens have been kidnapped and sold into slavery, and are at this moment wearing out their lives on plantations in texas and louisiana. but i forbear. chastened and subdued in spirit by the sufferings i have borne, and thankful to that good being through whose mercy i have been restored to happiness and liberty, i hope henceforward to lead an upright though lowly life, and rest at last in the church yard where my father sleeps. roaring river. a refrain of the red river plantation. [illustration: musical score] "harper's creek and roarin' ribber, thar, my dear, we'll live forebber; den we'll go to de ingin nation, all i want in dis creation, is pretty little wife and big plantation. chorus. up dat oak and down dat ribber, two overseers and one little nigger." appendix. a.--page 291. chap. 375. _an act more effectually to protect the free citizens of this state from being kidnapped, or reduced to slavery._ [passed may 14, 1840.] the people of the state of new-york, represented in senate and assembly, do enact as follows: â§ 1. whenever the governor of this state shall receive information satisfactory to him that any free citizen or any inhabitant of this state has been kidnapped or transported away out of this state, into any other state or territory of the united states, for the purpose of being there held in slavery; or that such free citizen or inhabitant is wrongfully seized, imprisoned or held in slavery in any of the states or territories of the united states, on the allegation or pretence that such a person is a slave, or by color of any usage or rule of law prevailing in such state or territory, is deemed or taken to be a slave, or not entitled of right to the personal liberty belonging to a citizen; it shall be the duty of the said governor to take such measures as he shall deem necessary to procure such person to be restored to his liberty and returned to this state. the governor is hereby authorized to appoint and employ such agent or agents as he shall deem necessary to effect the restoration and return of such person; and shall furnish the said agent with such credentials and instructions as will be likely to accomplish the object of his appointment. the governor may determine the compensation to be allowed to such agent for his services besides his necessary expenses. â§ 2. such agent shall proceed to collect the proper proof to establish the right of such person to his freedom, and shall perform such journeys, take such measures, institute and procure to be prosecuted such legal proceedings, under the direction of the governor, as shall be necessary to procure such person to be restored to his liberty and returned to this state. â§ 3. the accounts for all services and expenses incurred in carrying this act into effect shall be audited by the comptroller, and paid by the treasurer on his warrant, out of any moneys in the treasury of this state not otherwise appropriated. the treasurer may advance, on the warrant of the comptroller, to such agent, such sum or sums as the governor shall certify to be reasonable advances to enable him to accomplish the purposes of his appointment, for which advance such agent shall account, on the final audit of his warrant. â§ 4. this act shall take effect immediately. b.--page 292. memorial of anne. _to his excellency, the governor of the state of new-york:_ the memorial of anne northup, of the village of glens falls, in the county of warren, state aforesaid, respectfully sets forth-that your memorialist, whose maiden name was anne hampton, was forty-four years old on the 14th day of march last, and was married to solomon northup, then of fort edward, in the county of washington and state aforesaid, on the 25th day of december, a. d. 1828, by timothy eddy, then a justice of the peace. that the said solomon, after such marriage, lived and kept house with your memorialist in said town until 1830, when he removed with his said family to the town of kingsbury in said county, and remained there about three years, and then removed to saratoga springs in the state aforesaid, and continued to reside in said saratoga springs and the adjoining town until about the year 1841, as near as the time can be recollected, when the said solomon started to go to the city of washington, in the district of columbia, since which time your memorialist has never seen her said husband. and your memorialist further states, that in the year 1841 she received information by a letter directed to henry b. northup, esq., of sandy hill, washington county, new-york, and post-marked at new-orleans, that said solomon had been kidnapped in washington, put on board of a vessel, and was then in such vessel in new-orleans, but could not tell how he came in that situation, nor what his destination was. that your memorialist ever since the last mentioned period has been wholly unable to obtain any information of where the said solomon was, until the month of september last, when another letter was received from the said solomon, post-marked at marksville, in the parish of avoyelles, in the state of louisiana, stating that he was held there as a slave, which statement your memorialist believes to be true. that the said solomon is about forty-five years of age, and never resided out of the state of new-york, in which state he was born, until the time he went to washington city, as before stated. that the said solomon northup is a free citizen of the state of new-york, and is now wrongfully held in slavery, in or near marksville, in the parish of avoyelles, in the state of louisiana, one of the united states of america, on the allegation or pretence that the said solomon is a slave. and your memorialist further states that mintus northup was the reputed father of said solomon, and was a negro, and died at fort edward, on the 22d day of november, 1829; that the mother of said solomon was a mulatto, or three quarters white, and died in the county of oswego, new-york, some five or six years ago, as your memorialist was informed and believes, and never was a slave. that your memorialist and her family are poor and wholly unable to pay or sustain any portion of the expenses of restoring the said solomon to his freedom. your excellency is entreated to employ such agent or agents as shall be deemed necessary to effect the restoration and return of said solomon northup, in pursuance of an act of the legislature of the state of new-york, passed may 14th, 1840, entitled "an act more effectually to protect the free citizens of this state from being kidnappd or reduced to slavery." and your memorialist will ever pray. (signed,) anne northup. dated november 19, 1852. * * * * * state of new-york: washington county, ss. anne northup, of the village of glens falls, in the county of warren, in said state, being duly sworn, doth depose and say that she signed the above memorial, and that the statements therein contained are true. (signed,) anne northup. subscribed and sworn before me this 19th november, 1852. charles hughes, justice peace. * * * * * we recommend that the governor appoint henry b. northup, of the village of sandy hill, washington county, new-york, as one of the agents to procure the restoration and return of solomon northup, named in the foregoing memorial of anne northup. dated at sandy hill, washington co., n. y., november 20, 1852. (signed.) peter holbrook, daniel sweet, b. f. hoag, almon clark, charles hughes, benjamin ferris, e. d. baker, josiah h. brown, orville clark. * * * * * state of new-york: washington county, ss: josiah hand, of the village of sandy hill, in said county, being duly sworn, says, he is fifty-seven years old, and was born in said village, and has always resided there; that he has known mintus northup and his son solomon, named in the annexed memorial of anne northup, since previous to the year 1816; that mintus northup then, and until the time of his death, cultivated a farm in the towns of kingsbury and fort edward, from the time deponent first knew him until he died; that said mintus and his wife, the mother of said solomon northup, were reported to be free citizens of new-york, and deponent believes they were so free; that said solomon northup was born in said county of washington, as deponent believes, and was married dec. 25th, 1828, in fort edward aforesaid, and his said wife and three children--two daughters and one son--are now living in glens falls, warren county, new-york, and that the said solomon northup always resided in said county of washington, and its immediate vicinity, until about 1841, since which time deponent has not seen him, but deponent has been credibly informed, and as he verily believes truly, the said solomon is now wrongfully held as a slave in the state of louisiana. and deponent further says that anne northup, named in the said memorial, is entitled to credit, and deponent believes the statements contained in her said memorial are true. (signed,) josiah hand. subscribed and sworn before me this 19th day of november, 1852, charles hughes, justice peace. * * * * * state of new-york: washington county, ss: timothy eddy, of fort edward, in said county, being duly sworn, says he is now over--years old, and has been a resident of said town more than--years last past, and that he was well acquainted with solomon northup, named in the annexed memorial of anne northup, and with his father, mintus northup, who was a negro,--the wife of said mintus was a mulatto woman; that said mintus northup and his said wife and family, two sons, joseph and solomon, resided in said town of fort edward for several years before the year 1828, and said mintus died in said town a. d. 1829, as deponent believes. and deponent further says that he was a justice of the peace in said town in the year 1828, and as such justice of the peace, he, on the 25th day of dec'r, 1828, joined the said solomon northup in marriage with anne hampton, who is the same person who has subscribed the annexed memorial. and deponent expressly says, that said solomon was a free citizen of the state of new-york, and always lived in said state, until about the year a. d. 1840, since which time deponent has not seen him, but has recently been informed, and as deponent believes truly, that said solomon northup is wrongfully held in slavery in or near marksville, in the parish of avoyelles, in the state of louisiana. and deponent further says, that said mintus northup was nearly sixty years old at the time of his death, and was, for more than thirty years next prior to his death, a free citizen of the state of new-york. and this deponent further says, that anne northup, the wife of said solomon northup, is of good character and reputation, and her statements, as contained in the memorial hereto annexed, are entitled to full credit. (signed,) timothy eddy. subscribed and sworn before me this 19th day of november, 1852, tim'y stoughton, justice. * * * * * state of new-york: washington county, ss: henry b. northup, of the village of sandy hill, in said county, being duly sworn, says, that he is forty-seven years old, and has always lived in said county; that he knew mintus northup, named in the annexed memorial, from deponent's earliest recollection until the time of his death, which occurred at fort edward, in said county, in 1829; that deponent knew the children of said mintus, viz, solomon and joseph; that they were both born in the county of washington aforesaid, as deponent believes; that deponent was well acquainted with said solomon, who is the same person named in the annexed memorial of anne northup, from his childhood; and that said solomon always resided in said county of washington and the adjoining counties until about the year 1841; that said solomon could read and write; that said solomon and his mother and father were free citizens of the state of new-york; that sometime about the year 1841 this deponent received a letter from said solomon, post-marked new-orleans, stating that while on business at washington city, he had been kidnapped, and his free papers taken from him, and he was then on board a vessel, in irons, and was claimed as a slave, and that he did not know his destination, which the deponent believes to be true, and he urged this deponent to assist in procuring his restoration to freedom; that deponent has lost or mislaid said letter, and cannot find it; that deponent has since endeavored to find where said solomon was, but could get no farther trace of him until sept. last, when this deponent ascertained by a letter purporting to have been written by the direction of said solomon, that said solomon was held and claimed as a slave in or near marksville, in the parish of avoyelles, louisiana, and that this deponent verily believes that such information is true, and that said solomon is now wrongfully held in slavery at marksville aforesaid. (signed,) henry b. northup. subscribed and sworn to before me this 20th day of november, 1852, charles hughes, j. p. * * * * * state of new-york: washington county, ss nicholas c. northup, of the village of sandy hill, in said county, being duly sworn, doth depose and say, that he is now fifty-eight years of age, and has known solomon northup, mentioned in the annexed memorial of ann northup, ever since he was born. and this deponent saith that said solomon is now about forty-five years old, and was born in the county of washington aforesaid, or in the county of essex, in said state, and always resided in the state of new-york until about the year 1841, since which time deponent has not seen him or known where he was, until a few weeks since, deponent was informed, and believes truly, that said solomon was held in slavery in the state of louisiana. deponent further says, that said solomon was married in the town of fort edward, in said county, about twenty-four years ago, and that his wife and two daughters and one son now reside in the village of glens falls, county of warren, in said state of new-york. and this deponent swears positively that said solomon northup is a citizen of said state of new-york, and was born free, and from his earliest infancy lived and resided in the counties of washington, essex, warren and saratoga, in the state of new-york, and that his said wife and children have never resided out of said counties since the time said solomon was married; that deponent knew the father of said solomon northup; that said father was a negro, named mintus northup, and died in the town of fort edward, in the county of washington, state of new-york, on the 22d day of november, a. d. 1829, and was buried in the grave-yard in sandy hill aforesaid; that for more than thirty years before his death he lived in the counties of essex, washington and rensselaer and state of new-york, and left a wife and two sons, joseph and the said solomon, him surviving; that the mother of said solomon was a mulatto woman, and is now dead, and died, as deponent believes, in oswego county, new-york, within five or six years past. and this deponent further states, that the mother of the said solomon northup was not a slave at the time of the birth of said solomon northup, and has not been a slave at any time within the last fifty years. (signed,) n. c. northup. subscribed and sworn before me this 19th day of november, 1852. charles hughes, justice peace. * * * * * state of new-york: washington county, ss. orville clark, of the village of sandy hill, in the county of washington, state of new-york, being duly sworn, doth depose and say--that he, this deponent, is over fifty years of age; that in the years 1810 and 1811, or most of the time of those years, this deponent resided at sandy hill, aforesaid, and at glens falls; that this deponent then knew mintus northup, a black or colored man; he was then a free man, as this deponent believes and always understood; that the wife of said mintus northup, and mother of solomon, was a free woman; that from the year 1818 until the time of the death of said mintus northup, about the year 1829, this deponent was very well acquainted with the said mintus northup; that he was a respectable man in the community in which he resided, and was a free man, so taken and esteemed by all his acquaintances; that this deponent has also been and was acquainted with his son solomon northup, from the said year 1818 until he left this part of the country, about the year 1840 or 1841; that he married anne hampton, daughter of william hampton, a near neighbor of this deponent; that the said anne, wife of said solomon, is now living and resides in this vicinity; that the said mintus northup and william hampton were both reputed and esteemed in this community as respectable men. and this deponent saith that the said mintus northup and his family, and the said william hampton and his family, from the earliest recollection and acquaintance of this deponent with him (as far back as 1810,) were always reputed, esteemed, and taken to be, and this deponent believes, truly so, free citizens of the state of new-york. this deponent knows the said william hampton, under the laws of this state, was entitled to vote at our elections, and he believes the said mintus northup also was entitled as a free citizen with the property qualification. and this deponent further saith, that the said solomon northup, son of said mintus, and husband of said anne hampton, when he left this state, was at the time thereof a free citizen of the state of new-york. and this deponent further saith, that said anne hampton, wife of solomon northup, is a respectable woman, of good character, and i would believe her statements, and do believe the facts set forth in her memorial to his excellency, the governor, in relation to her said husband, are true. (signed,) orville clark. sworn before me, november 19th, 1852. u. g. paris, justice of the peace. * * * * * state of new-york: washington county, ss. benjamin ferris, of the village of sandy hill, in said county, being duly sworn, doth depose and say--that he is now fifty-seven years old, and has resided in said village forty-five years; that he was well acquainted with mintus northup, named in the annexed memorial of anne northup, from the year 1816 to the time of his death, which occurred at fort edward, in the fall of 1829; that he knew the children of the said mintus, namely, joseph northup and solomon northup, and that the said solomon is the same person named in said memorial; that said mintus resided in the said county of washington to the time of his death, and was, during all that time, a free citizen of the said state of new-york, as deponent verily believes; that said memorialist, anne northup, is a woman of good character, and the statement contained in her memorial is entitled to credit. (signed) benjamin ferris. sworn before me, november 19th, 1852. u. g. paris, justice of the peace. * * * * * state of new-york: executive chamber, albany, nov. 30, 1852. i hereby certify that the foregoing is a correct copy of certain proofs filed in the executive department, upon which i have appointed henry b. northup an agent of this state, to take proper proceedings in behalf of solomon northup, there in mentioned. (signed,) washington hunt. by the governor. j. f. r., private secretary. * * * * * state of new-york: executive department. washington hunt, _governor of the state of new-york, to whom it may concern, greeting_: whereas, i have received information on oath, which is satisfactary to me, that solomon northup, who is a free citizen of this state, is wrongfully held in slavery, in the state of louisiana: and whereas, it is made my duty, by the laws of this state, to take such measures as i shall deem necessary to procure any citizen so wrongfully held in slavery, to be restored to his liberty and returned to this state: be it known, that in pursuance of chapter 375 of the laws of this state, passed in 1840, i have constituted, appointed and employed henry b. northup, esquire, of the county of washington, in this state, an agent, with full power to effect the restoration of said solomon northup, and the said agent is hereby authorized and empowered to institute such proper and legal proceedings, to procure such evidence, retain such counsel, and finally to take such measures as will be most likely to accomplish the object of his said appointment. he is also instructed to proceed to the state of louisiana with all convenient dispatch, to execute the agency hereby created. in witness whereof, i have hereunto subscribed my name, and [l.s.] affixed the privy seal of the state, at albany, this 23d day of november, in the year of our lord 1852. (signed,) washington hunt. james f. ruggles, private secretary. c.--page 309. state of louisiana: parish of avoyelles. before me, aristide barbin, recorder of the parish of avoyelles, personally came and appeared henry b. northup, of the county of washington, state of new-york, who hath declared that by virtue of a commission to him as agent of the state of new-york, given and granted by his excellency, washington hunt, governor of the said state of new-york, bearing date the 23d day of november, 1852, authorizing and empowering him, the said northup, to pursue and recover from slavery a free man of color, called solomon northup, who is a free citizen of the state of new-york, and who was kidnapped and sold into slavery, in the state of louisiana, and now in the possession of edwin epps, of the state of louisiana, of the parish of avoyelles; he, the said agent, hereto signing, acknowledges that the said edwin has this day given and surrendered to him as such agent, the said solomon northup, free man of color, as aforesaid, in order that he be restored to his freedom, and carried back to the said state of new-york, pursuant to said commission, the said edwin epps being satisfied from the proofs produced by said agent, that the said solomon northup is entitled to his freedom. the parties consenting that a certified copy of said power of attorney be annexed to this act. done and signed at marksville, parish of avoyelles, this fourth day of january, one thousand eight hundred and fifty-three, in the presence of the undersigned, legal and competent witnesses, who have also hereto signed. (signed,) henry b. northup. edwin epps. ade. barbin, recorder. witnesses: h. taylor, john p. waddill. * * * * * state of louisiana: parish of avoyelles. i do hereby certify the foregoing to be a true and correct copy of the original on file and of record in my office. [l.s.] given under my hand and seal of office as recorder in and for the parish of avoyelles, this 4th day of january, a. d. 1853. (signed,) ade. barbin, recorder. the end * * * * * [transcriber's notes: the transcriber made these changes to the text: 1. p. xi., chalenged --> challenged 2. p. xiii., coversation --> conversation 3. p. xvi, expresssion --> expression 4. p. 53, hight --> height 5. p. 58, susually --> usually 6. p. 86, she's not for sale. --> she's not for sale." 7. p. 97, looded --> looked 8. p, 103, capenter --> carpenter 9. p. 106, aligators --> alligators 10. p. 112, chenyville --> cheneyville 11. p. 135, gripe --> grip 12. p. 138, loose --> lose 13. p. 149, listing --> listening 14. p. 156, an one --> a one 15. p. 224, maintin --> maintain 16. p. 244, lew cheeney --> lew cheney 17. p. 274, priviliges --> privileges 18. p. 296, 'bringing down his hand emphatically on the table,' --> bringing down his hand emphatically on the table, 19. p. 314, reppresented --> represented 20. p. 316, offer--> offered end of transcriber's notes] 