"Friend!" cried I from my prison, seized with a sudden hope of escape,

"the man tells thee a fib. If thee is an honest man and a lover of the

law, I charge thee to give me help; for these men are villains, who

have dragged me from my home contrary to law, and now have me fastened

up by the legs."

"I say, strange-aw! by hooky!" cried the horseman, in very emphatic

tones, addressing himself to my captor, as I saw through a crack, while

his companion rode up to his assistance, "what's the meaning of all

this he-aw? What aw you doing, toting a white man off in this style,

like a wild baw?"

What a "wild _baw_" was I could not conveniently comprehend; but I saw

that I had lighted on a friend, who had the power to deliver me from

thraldom.

"My name," said I, "is Zachariah Longstraw, and I can reward thee for

thy trouble."

"You hear him!" said my jailer, with all imaginable coolness. "Well

now, darn it, if I must tell, it is Zachariah Longstraw, the famous

Zachariah Longstraw. You understand!" And here he nodded and winked at

the questioner with great significancy; but, as it appeared, all in

vain.

"Never heard of the man in my life," said my friend, "and I've followed

niggur-driving ever since I could hold a two-year-old bo' pig."

"What!" cried my jailer, "never heard of Zachariah Longstraw, the

famous abolitionist?"

"_Abolitionist_!" cried the two horsemen together, and they cried it

with a yell that made my hair stand on end. "Can't say ever heard the

name, but reckon he's one of them 'aw New-Yorkers and Yankees what

sends 'cendiary things down he-aw! I say, strange-aw! is it a true,

right up-and-down, no-mistake abolitionist?"

"Darn it, I think you'd say so, if you had ever read the papers."

"Jist open the box then, and if I don't take the scalp off him, call me

a black man!"

"You won't do no sitch thing, meaning no offence," said my jailer.

"Didn't go to the expense to fetch him so far for nothing; and don't

mean him for the Virginnee market. Bound down to Louisianee, stranger;

that's the best market for abolitionists; seen a public advertisement

offering fifty thousand dollars for fellers not half so bad. I rather

estimate we'll get full price for our venture."

With that my jailers whipped up, and succeeded in putting a proper

distance betwixt them and that ferocious person who had such a desire

to rob me of my scalp.

17. CHAPTER XVII.

CONTAINING OTHER SECRETS, BUT NOT SO IMPORTANT.

Reader, if thou art an abolitionist (and, verily, I hope thou art

not), thou wilt conceive the mingled wo and astonishment with which

I listened to these words of the chief kidnapper--whose Christian

name, by-the-way, was Joshua, though as for his surname, I must

confess I never heard it--and appreciate, even to the cold creeping

of the flesh, the terrible situation in which I was placed. I was an

abolitionist--or, at least, my captors chose so to consider me, and

they were now carrying me down south, to sell me on speculation. For

this they had kidnapped me! for this they had fastened me up by the

legs like a "wild baw!" for this--but it is vain to accumulate phrases

expressive of their villany and my distresses. What mattered it to my

captors if, after all, I was _no_ abolitionist? (for, of a verity,

though opposed in principle to the whole institution of slavery, my

mind had been so fully occupied with other philanthropic considerations

that I had had no time to play the liberator)--it was all one to my

captors. The genius which could convert a hemlock-knot into a shoulder

of bacon, a bundle of elder twigs into good Havana cigars, and bags of

carpet-rags into Bologna sausages, could be at no fault when the demand

was only to transform a peaceable follower of George Fox into a roaring

lion of abolition. I felt that they had got me into a quandary more

dreadful than any that had ever before afflicted my spirit. I knew we

were already far south of Mason's and Dixon's.

The moment my vile kidnappers slackened their speed a little, having

ridden hard to escape the negro-drivers, I called a parley, in the

course of which two circumstances were brought to light, which greatly

increased the afflictions of my spirit. I began by remonstrating with

the villains upon the wickedness, cruelty, and injustice of their

proceedings; to which Joshua made answer, that "times was hard--that

a poor man was put to a hard shift to get a living--that, for his

part, he was an honest man who turned his hand to any honest matter--

that he knew what was lawful, and what was not--that he was agin all

abolition, which was anti-constitutional, and clear for keeping the

peace betwixt the North and South"--and twenty other things of a like

nature, of which the most important was, a declaration that the good

people of some parish or other in Louisiana had offered a reward of

fifty thousand dollars for either of two individuals whose names I have

forgotten, though they were very famous abolitionists, and although

Joshua, to settle the matter at once, showed me their names in the

advertisement, which he had cut from a newspaper.

"Friend," said I, "I don't see that these foolish people have offered

any reward for _me_."

"Well, darn it, I know it," said Joshua; "but I rather estimate they'll

give half price for you; and that will pay us right smart for the

venture. For, you see, what they want is an abolitionist, and I rather

estimate they're not over and above partickilar as to who he may be.

Now I have heern tell of a heap of incendiary papers you sent down

south to free the niggurs--"

"I never did any such thing!"

"Oh, well," said Joshua, "it's all one; them there sugar-growing

fellers will think so; and so it's all right. And there's them runaway

niggurs you Phil'delphy Quakers are always hiding away from their

masters. I rather estimate we'll make a good venture out of you."

"What!" said I, "will you sell my life for money?"

"No," said the vile Joshua, "it's a mere trade in flesh and

blood--wouldn't take a man's life on no consideration."

"Friend, thee shall have money if thee will permit me to escape."

"Well," said Joshua, with an indifferent drawl, "I estimate not. Abel

Snipe told me you was cleaned out as clear as a gourd-shell."

"Abel Snipe!" said I; "is thee a friend of that villain, Abel Snipe?"

"A sorter," said Joshua; "or rather Sam is. Him and Abel was friends

together at Sing--"

"Oh, blast your jaw," said Sam, speaking for almost the first time on

the whole journey, for he had been, until then, uncommonly glum and

taciturn; "where's the difference where it was? Says Abel Snipe to

me, says he, 'If you want's an abolitionist, there's my old friend

Zachariah; he's your true go.' And so, d'ye see, that's what made us

snap you; for we was thinking of snapping another."

"Oh, the wretch! the base, ungrateful, hypocritical wretch!"

"Come, blast it," said Sam, "don't abuse a man's friends."

"Fellow," said I, "hast thou no human feeling in that breast of thine?

Wilt thou sell me to violent men and madmen, who will wrongfully take

my life?

"Think what thou doest! Hast thou no conscience? Thou art selling a

fellow-being! Hast thou no fear of death and judgment? of the devil and

the world of torment?"

"Oh, hold your gab," said the ruffian. "As for selling fellow-critters,

why, that was once a reggelar business of mine; for, d'ye see, I was

a body-snatcher. And I reckon I was more skeared once snapping up a

dead body, than ever I shall be lifting a live one. You must know, I

was snatching for the doctors, over there in Jarsey; for, d'ye see,

I'm a Jarseyman myself: I reckon it was some fourteen months ago: it

was summer. What the devil-be-cursed the doctor wanted with a body in

summer, I don't know; but it was none on my business. So we, went, me

and Tim Stokes, and the doctor, to an old burying-ground where they had

just earthed a youngster that the doctor said would suit him. Well,

d'ye see, when we came to the grave, up jumps a blasted devil, as big

as a cow, or it might ha' been a ghost, and set up a cry. So we takes

to our heels. But the doctor said 'twas a man's cry, and no ghost's.

And so, d'ye see, blast it, we was for going back again, after having a

confab; when what should we do but find a poor devil of a feller lying

dead by a hole under a beech-tree. The doctor said _he_ would do better

nor the other; and so, blast it, d'ye see, we nabbed him."

"Of a surety," said I, eagerly, "it was the beech-tree at the

Owl-roost! and that was the body of poor Sheppard Lee!"

"Well, they did call him summat of that like; and they made a great

fuss about him in the papers. But I'm hanged if I wasn't skeared after

that out of all body-snatching."

"Friend," said I, "can thee tell me what the doctor did with that body?"

"Why, cut him up, blast him, and made a raw-head-and-bloody-bones of

him. The doctor was so cussed partickilar, he wouldn't let us even

knock the teeth out; though that was no great loss, for Jarseymen

hasn't no great shakes in the tooth way."

Alas! what an ending for poor Sheppard Lee! His body subjected to

the knife of an anatomist, his bones scraped, boiled, bleached, hung

together on wires, and set up in a museum, while his spirit was

wandering about from body to body, enduring more afflictions in each

than it had ever mourned even in that unlucky original dwelling it

was so glad to leave! I am not of a sentimental turn, and I cannot

say that, as Zachariah Longstraw, I felt any peculiar sorrow for the

woes of Sheppard Lee. Nevertheless, I did not hear this account of the

brutal way in which his body had been stolen and anatomized, without

some touch of indignation and grief; which, perhaps, I should have

expressed, had not there arisen, before the brutal Samuel had quite

finished his remarks on Jerseymen's teeth, an occasion to exercise

those feelings on my own immediate behalf.

This was produced by the vile Joshua, who had then the reins, telling

a brace of horsemen whom we met that he had "the great abolitionist,

the celebrated Zachariah Longstraw, in his cart," and was carrying him

to be Lynched in Louisiana; a confession that threw the strangers into

transports of satisfaction, one of them swearing he would accompany my

captors to the Mississippi, or to the end of the earth, for the mere

purpose of seeing me get my deservings.

18. CHAPTER XVIII.

IN WHICH THE AUTHOR APPROACHES A CLIMAX IN HIS ADVENTURES.

And now arose a train of incidents, by which I was taught three things,

namely--first, the manner in which my merchants designed giving a value

to their merchandise not inherent and intrinsic to it (for, of a truth,

my abolition principles, as I said before, had never been carried to

the point of notoriety, or even notice); secondly, the love with which

a southron regards those pious philanthropists who will have him good

and virtuous against his own will; and, thirdly, the religious respect

for law and order which is so prominent a feature in the American

character.

To make me valuable, it was necessary I should be made famous; and this

was easily accomplished in a land where men make up their opinions for

themselves, according as they are instructed. It was only necessary

to assure some half dozen or more independent sovereigns that I was

famous, to ensure their making me so. And this my kidnappers did. They

told everybody they met that they had secured Zachariah Longstraw, the

famous abolitionist, the very life and soul of northern incendiarism,

whom they were carrying to Louisiana, to be Lynched according to law;

and as the circumstance would, of course, get into every patriotic

newspaper along the way, it was certain I should be made famous enough

before I got there, and they thus enjoy the advantage of advertising

their commodity without paying a cent to the printer.

It was astonishing (and to none more than myself) to witness the

suddenness with which I was exalted from obscurity to distinction, and

the readiness with which every living soul, upon being told my name,

character, and reputation, remembered all about me and my misdeeds.

"Yes," cried one worthy personage, shaking at me a fist minus two

fingers and a half, "I have heerd of him often enough: he lives in

New-York, and he sells sendary pictures, packed up between the soles

of niggur shoes."--"Yes!" cried another, who had but one eye, "I have

read all about him: he lives in Boston, keeps a niggur school, and

prints sendary papers, a hundred thousand at a time, to set niggurs

insurrecting." In short, they remembered not only all that the unworthy

Joshua told them to my disparagement, but a thousand things that the

imagination of one suggested to the credulity of another. It was in

vain that I endeavoured to say any thing in denial or defence; ridicule

and revilement, threats and execrations, were my only answers. It

was clear, that by the time we reached the Mississippi, I should be

the most important personage in America; and that, if my value as an

article of merchandise was to be determined by the distinction I won on

the road, my friends, Joshua and Samuel, would make their fortunes by

the speculation. But it was not my fate to travel beyond the bounds of

the Ancient Dominion.

It happened, that on this day an election was held in the district

through which we were travelling, to return a representative to

Congress, in lieu of one who had fought his way into the shoes of a

_chargé_. All the world--that is, all the district--was therefore in

arms; and men and boys, Americans and Irishmen, were making their way

to the polls as fast and comfortably as two-mile-an-hour hard-trotting

horses could carry them; and thither also, as it appeared, or in that

direction, we were ourselves bending our course. As we advanced,

therefore, we found ourselves gliding into a current of human

bodies--honest republicans, moving onward to the polls, all of whom

were ready to add their approval to my claims, or those the kidnappers

made for me, to the honour of Lynchdom. The word was passed from one

to another, that the Yankee cart contained the famous abolitionist,

Zachariah Longstraw; they pressed around to look at and revile me, to

discourse with the kidnappers on my demerits, and to express their

delight that such a renowned member of the incendiary gang, as they

called that class of conscientious people, should at last be on the

road to justice.

And thus I was rolled along, attended by sundry groups, which grew fast

into crowds, consisting of persons who rejoiced over my capture, and

painted to my ears, in words uncommonly rough and ferocious, the fate

that awaited me when arrived at my place of destination.

That place, as it chanced, was nearer than I either expected or

desired. As the crowd thickened, the sounds of wrath and triumph

increased, becoming more terrible to my auditories. A new idea came

into the minds of the sovereigns. A villain, seven feet and a half

high, mounted on a horse just half that altitude, who had a great

knife-scar across his nose and cheek, and a dozen similar seams on his

hands, rode up to the cart, and giving me a diabolical look, cried out

"Whaw! what aw the use of carrying the crittur so faw? I say, Vawginnee

is the place for Lynching, atter all. I say, gentlemen and Vawginians!

I go for Lynching right off-hand. Old Vawginnee for evvaw!"

Loud and terrible was the roar of voices with which the throng

testified their approbation of the barbarian's proposal. It was agreed

I ought to be, and should be, Lynched on the spot. The kidnappers

appealed to the justice of "Virginians," requesting them not to invade

"the sacred rights of private property,"--"they could not think of

giving up their prisoner for nothing; they meant him solely for the

Louisiana market." But things were coming to a crisis, and that my

conductors perceived. They whipped up to escape the throng; but in

vain. The further they went, the more they became involved in the

crowd, having now arrived at the village where the favourite candidate

was stumping among his constituents, and promising them worlds of

reform, retrenchment, and public virtue, provided they would send him

to Congress. I could hear from my box (my friend Joshua having taken

care to lock me up at the first sign of danger), as we entered the

village, the distant cries of "Hampden Jones for ever!" mingled with

those nearer ones of my persecutors, "Lynch the abolitionist!" and the

loudly-expressed remonstrances of my friends against invasion of their

rights, coupled with threats to have the law of any one who robbed them

of their property.

But threats and appeals were alike wasted on the independent freemen

of that district. Joined by the voters and others already assembled at

the polls, who, at the cry of "Lynch the abolitionist!" had deserted

their orator, to join in the nobler sport of Lynching, they increased

in wrath and enthusiasm; and, stopping the cart and breaking open my

prison-house, they dragged me into the light of day, one man calling

for a pistol, another a knife, a third a rope, and a fourth a cord

of good dry wood and a coal of fire, to "burn the villain alive."

Such a horrible clamour never before afflicted my ears or soul. I saw

that, abolitionist or not, it was all over with me; and so saw honest

Joshua and Samuel, whose only solace for this unlucky interruption to

their speculation, was a call some one generously made to take up a

subscription for their benefit, seeing that it was "beneath the dignity

of the chivalry of Virginia to cheat even a Yankee of what was justly

his due."

19. CHAPTER XIX.

CONTAINING A SPECIMEN OF ELOQUENCE, WITH SOME ACCOUNT OF THE DANGERS OF

LYNCHDOM.

At this moment the orator and candidate of the day, stalking up in

high dudgeon to find what superior attraction had robbed him of his

audience, laid eyes upon me. I thought I had seen him before; and

verily I had. He was that identical gentleman, the master of the

fugitive slave whom I had concealed in my house in Philadelphia, and

then clapped into prison for robbing me, whence his master recovered

him. There was no mistaking the gentleman: He was a young man of

twenty-six or seven, six feet high and one foot wide, long-limbed, with

small feet and huge hands, a great shock of Indian-looking hair, vast,

solemn black eyes, a mouth wide and square, and a brow that might have

suited a patriarch, it was so wide, and lofty, and wrinkled. He was

evidently a man destined to shake the walls of the Capitol, and cause

stenographers to groan; the Tully shone in his eye, the Demosthenes

moved on his lip--there was genius even in the shape of his nose.

"I recollect the man," said he, with a voice that might have come from

the bowels of a double-bass, it was so deep, rolling, and sonorous;

"he hid my boy Pompey. His name is Longshanks; he is a Quaker, a

philanthropist--an abolitionist!"

"Hampden Jones for ever!" cried the delighted sovereigns. "We'll hang

him" (meaning _me_, however, and not the orator) "over the poll-window,

and then vote for Hampden Jones, the friend of the law, the friend of

the constitution, the friend of the south!"

"Stay, friends," said Hampden Jones, and his voice stilled the tumult;

"I have a word to say on the subject of abolition."

"Hampden Jones for ever!" cried the republicans; and Hampden Jones

stepped up on the head of a barrel, and stretched forth his right arm.

He stretched forth his left also, and then, clinching both fists, and

pursing his brows together until the balls beneath them looked like

rolling grape-shot, he said,--

"Gentlemen--fellow-freemen of Virginia! The bulwarks of a nation's

liberties are the virtues of her children. Compared with these, what is

wealth? what is grandeur? what even are power and glory? These--riches

and greatness, power and renown--are the possessions of the Old World;

yet what have they availed her? Look around that ancient hemisphere,

and tell me _where_ among its blood-stained battle-fields! _where_

under its polluted palaces! where in its haunts of the despot and the

slave! you can find the love of liberty, the love of law, the love of

order, the love of justice, that give permanence to the institutions

they adorn, and, like the laurel crown of the Cesars, guard from

the thunderbolt the temples they bind in the wreath of honour? Look

for them in the Old World, but look in vain. The mighty Colossus of

Christendom, once vital with virtue, lifts its decrepit bulk beyond

the verge of the Atlantic, a vast and mournful monument of decay!

Age and the shocks of the elements, the wash of the tempest and the

lightning-stroke, have ploughed its marble forehead with wrinkles;

mosses hang from its brows, and the dust of its own ruin--dust animated

only by insects and reptiles, the offspring of corruption--moulders

over its buried feet! The virtues that once distinguished--that almost

deified--the immortal Colossus, have fled from the old, to find their

home in the New World. I look for them only in the bosoms of Americans!"

Here the orator, who had pronounced this sublime exordium with

prodigious earnestness and effect, paused, while the welkin rung with

the shouts of rapture its complimentary close was so well fitted to

inspire. As for me, I felt a doleful skepticism as to the justness of

the compliment, having the very best reason to distrust that love of

liberty, law, order, and justice, which was about to consign me to

ropes and flames, without asking the permission of a judge and jury.

Moreover, I could not exactly see how Mr. Hampden Jones's remarks

on the old and new world had any thing to do with the subject of

abolition, which he had risen to discuss; and, indeed, this difficulty

seemed to have beset others as well as myself, several crying out with

great enthusiasm, "Let's have something on abolition; and then to the

Lynching!" while others exclaimed, "Let's have the Lynching first, and

the speech afterward."

"Abolition, my fellow-citizens!" said the orator, "it is my intention

to address you on the subject of abolition. But first let me apply

what I have already said. I have said, and I repeat, that the love of

liberty, of law, of order, of justice, belongs peculiarly to the free

sons of America. Let me counsel, let me advise, let me entreat you, to

have this noble truth in remembrance on this present occasion. Beware

lest, in what you now intend to do, you give occasion to the enemies of

freedom to doubt your virtue, to suspect the reality of your love of

law, order, and justice, to stigmatize you as friends only of riot and

outrage."

These words filled me with joyful astonishment. I began to believe

the youthful Tully was about to interfere in my favour, to rebuke

the violence of his adherents, and so save them from the sin of

blood-guiltiness.

So also thought the indignant sovereigns themselves; and many,

elevating their voices, demanded furiously, "if he meant to protect the

bloody abolitionist?"

"By no means," said Mr. Hampden Jones, with great emphasis; "what I

have to advise is, that if we are to do execution upon the wretch,

we shall proceed about it in an orderly and dignified way, resolve

ourselves into a great and solemn tribunal, and so adjudge him to death

with a regularity and decorum which shall excite the admiration and win

the approbation of the whole world."

"Hampden Jones for ever!" cried the sovereigns; and so it appeared that

all the benefit I was to derive from his interference, was only to be

despatched in an orderly manner.

20. CHAPTER XX.

IN WHICH SHEPPARD LEE REACHES THE DARKEST PERIOD OF HIS EXISTENCE.

Seeing this, I became horribly frightened--indeed, so much so, that

I was incapable of observing properly what ensued. I have a faint

recollection that Mr. Hampden Jones resumed his discourse and harangued

those who would listen, on the subject he had promised to discuss; and

I remember that his auditors echoed every tenth word with tremendous

shouts. But what I remember better than all was, a spectacle that soon

attracted my attention, being nothing less than the apparition of

five or six stout negroes climbing up a tree hard by, dragging a rope

after them, and tying it round a branch; all which they executed with

uncommon spirit and zeal, shaking their fists at me all the time, and

calling me a "cussed bobolitionist."

What was to become of me now? Had I entered the body of the most

generous and humane of men only to be hanged? A cold sweat broke over

me; my knees knocked together. The men who held me, held me faster. My

judges, the members of the great and solemn tribunal, began to decide

upon my fate with the regularity and decorum (advised by their orator)

which were to win the approbation and admiration of the whole world--

that is to say, by each man marching up to the orator's barrel, where

stood a committee appointed to receive the votes, pronouncing his name,

and voting to "hang the incendiary."

All this while, I believe, I was endeavouring to say something in my

defence; but I have not the slightest recollection of what it was.

Matters were coming--I may say had come--to a crisis, and my life

hung upon a thread; when suddenly a negro, who had been among the

most active and zealous of the volunteers on the tree, fell from a

high branch to the ground, and besides breaking his own neck, as I

understood by the cry that was set up, crushed two or three white men

that stood below.

This produced a great hubbub, and those who had stationed themselves

about me as guards ran forward to see what mischief had been done. As

they ran one way, I betook me to my heels and ran another. I rushed

into the nearest house; but, being instantly pursued and ousted, I fled

into a garden, from which I was as quickly chased by men and dogs, the

first screaming, and the second howling and barking, so that the uproar

they made was inexpressible.

Fear lent me wings; but I was surrounded; and run whithersoever

I might, I always found myself brought up by some party or other

presenting itself in front. The exercise, while it inflamed my own

terrors, only exasperated the rage of my persecutors; and I was

persuaded they would tear me to pieces the moment they caught me. Judge

of my feelings, then, when I found myself hemmed in on all sides in a

little field on the skirts of the village, with a party close at my

elbow, on which I had stumbled without seeing it until roused by its

cries.

I looked up and saw that it consisted of about a dozen negroes, who

were carrying the body of their companion, the unlucky volunteer who

had broken his neck falling from the tree; but which body they now

threw upon the ground, and with loud screams of "He-ah, mossa John!"

and "He-ah, mossa Dickey!" began to scamper after me with all their

might.

There was but one resource left me, and that let the reader determine

hereafter of how deplorable a character. I made a successful dodge,

followed by a dash right through the screaming Africans, who perhaps

hesitated to lay a rough hand on one of my colour, and, reaching

the body of their companion, cried, half to myself and half to the

insensible clay, "It is better to be a slave than a dead man; and

the scourge, whatever romantic persons may say to the contrary, is

preferable, at any time, to the halter. If thou art dead, my sable

brother, yield my spirit a refuge in thy useless body!"

That was the last I remember of the adventure, for I had no sooner

uttered the words than I fell into a trance.

BOOK VI.

CONTAINING A HISTORY AND A MORAL.

1. CHAPTER I.

IN WHICH SHEPPARD LEE FINDS EVERY THING BLACK ABOUT HIM.

When I opened my eyes I found that I was lying in a hovel, very mean

of appearance, yet with a certain neatness and cleanliness about it

that prevented it from looking squalid. It is true that the floor,

which was of planks, was somewhat awry and dilapidated; that the little

window, which, with the door, furnished, or was meant to furnish, its

only light, was rather bountifully bedecked with old hats and scraps

of brown paper; and that the walls of ill-plastered logs displayed

divers gleaming chinks, and vistas through them of the sunny prospects

without. Nevertheless, the place did not look amiss for a poor man,

and, in my experience as a philanthropist, I had seen hundreds much

more miserable.

An old woman sat at the fireplace, nodding over a stew, the fumes of

which were both savoury and agreeable. The old woman was, however, as

black as the outside of her stew-pan--in other words, a negress; and

this circumstance striking upon the chords of association, I began to

remember what had lately befallen me. A terrible suspicion flashed

into my mind. Had I not--but before I could ask myself the question,

my hand, which I had raised to scratch my head, came into contact with

a mop of elastic wool, such as never grew upon the scalp of a white

man. I started up in bed and looked at my hands and arms; they were of

the hue of ebony--or, to speak more strictly, of smoked mahogany. I

saw a fragment of looking-glass hanging on the wall within my reach.

I snatched it down, and took a survey of my physiognomy. Miserable

me! my _face_ was as black as my arms--and, indeed, somewhat more

so--presenting a sable globe, broken only by two red lips of immense

magnitude, and a brace of eyes as white and as wide as plain China

saucers, or peeled turnips.

"Whaw dah!" cried the old woman, roused by the noise I made; "whaw dat,

you nigga Tom? what you doin' dah? Lorra bless us! if a nigga break a

neck, can't a nigga hold-a still?"

Alas! and had my fate brought me to this grievous pass? Was there no

other situation in life sufficiently wretched, but that I must take

up my lot in the body of a miserable negro slave? How idle had been

all my past discontent! how foolish the persuasion I had indulged

five different times, that I was, on each occasion, the most unhappy

of men! I had forgotten the state of the bondman, the condition of

the expatriated African. _Now_ I was at last to learn in reality

what it was to be the victim of fortune, what to be the exemplar of

wretchedness, the true repository of all the griefs that can afflict

a human being. Already I felt, in imagination, the blow of the

task-master on my back, the fetter on my limb, the iron in my soul; and

when the old woman made a step towards me, perhaps to discover why I

made no reply to her questions, I was so prepossessed with the idea of

whips and lashes, that I made a dodge under the bedclothes, as if to

escape a thwack.

"Golly matty! is de nigga mad?" cried the Jezebel. "I say, you nigga

Tom, what you doin'? How you neck feel now?"

"My neck?" thought I, recollecting that it had been broken, and

wondering in what way it had been mended. I clapped my hands to it;

it was very stiff and sore: while I felt at it, the old woman told me

some great doctor had twisted a great "kink" out of it; but I bestowed

little notice on what she said. My mind ran upon other matters; I could

think of nothing but cowhides and cat-o'-nine-tails, that were to

welcome me to bondage.

"Aunty," said I--_why_ I addressed the old lady thus I know not; but I

have observed that negroes always address their seniors by the titles

of uncle and aunt, and I suppose the instinct was on me--"am I a

slave?"

"What a fool nigga to ax a question!" said she. "What you gwying to be,

den, but old Massa Jodge's nigga-boy Tom? What you git up faw, ha?"

--(I was making an attempt to rise)--

"Massa docta say you stay a-bed. What you git up faw, ha?"

"I intend to run away," said I; and truly that was the notion then

uppermost in my mind; and it is very likely I should have made a bolt

for the door that moment, had I not discovered an uncommon weakness in

my lower limbs, which prevented my getting out of bed.

"Whaw! what a fool!" cried the beldam, regarding me with surprise and

contempt; "what you do when you run away, ha? Who'll hab you? who'll

feed you? who'll take care of you? who'll own a good-fo'-nothin'

runaway nigga, I say, ha? Kick him 'bout h'yah, kick him 'bout dah,

poor despise nigga wid no massa, jist as despise as any free nigga! You

run away, ha? what den?" continued my sable monitress, warming into

eloquence as she spoke: "take up constable, clap him in jail, salt him

down cowskin. Dat all? No! sell him low price, send Mississippi--what

den? Work in de cotton-field, pull at de cane. Dat all? No! cussed

overseer wid a long whip--cut h'yah, cut dah, cut high, cut low--whip

all day, cuff all night--take all de skin off--oh! dey do whip to de

debbil in de Mississippi!" And as the old lady concluded, to give more

effect to her expressions, she fell to rubbing her back and dodging her

head from side to side, until I had the liveliest idea in the world of

that very castigation of which I stood in such horror.

2. CHAPTER II.

IN WHICH SHEPPARD LEE IS INTRODUCED TO HIS MASTER.

Just at this moment, to make my anguish more complete, in stepped a

tall and dignified person, bearing a huge walking-stick; with which I

was so certain he would proceed to maul me, that I made a second dive

under the bedclothes, loudly beseeching him for mercy.

To my surprise, however, instead of beating me, he spoke to the old

woman, whom he called aunt Phoebe (and who, in return, entitled him

Massa Jodge), asked "if I was not light-headed?" said that "it was a

great pity I had so hard a time of it," that "I was very much hurt,"

that "he would be sorry to lose me," and so on; and, in fine, expressed

what he said in accents so humane and gentle, that I was encouraged

to steal a peep at him; seeing which he sat down on a stool, felt my

pulse, and giving me quite a good-natured look, asked me "if I felt in

much pain?"

I was astonished that he should treat me thus, if my master. But,

surveying him more intently, I perceived there was little in his

appearance to justify any fears of cruelty. He was an aged man, with

a head of silver that gave him an uncommonly venerable air; and,

though his visage was grave, it expressed a native good-humour and

amiableness. My terrors fled before his soothing accents and benevolent

looks; but being still confused, I was unable to reply in proper terms

to his questions; so that when he asked me, as he soon did, what I

meant by crying for mercy, I made answer, "Oh Lord, sir, I was afraid

you was going to beat me!" at which he laughed, and said "my conscience

was growing tenderer than common;" adding, that "there was no doubt I

deserved a trouncing, as did every other boy on his estate; for a set

of greater scoundrels than his was not to be found in all Virginia; and

if they had their deserts, they would get a round dozen apiece every

day."

He then began to ask me particularly about my ailments; and I judged

from his questions and certain occasional remarks which he let fall,

that I had been lying insensible for several days, that my neck had

been put out of place, or dislocated, and reduced again by some

practitioner of uncommon skill. And here, lest the reader should think

such a circumstance improbable, I beg leave to say that I have lately

seen an account of a similar operation performed by an English surgeon

on the neck of a fox-hunting squire; and as the story appeared in the

newspapers, there can be no doubt of its truth.

While the gentleman--my master--was thus asking me of my pains, and

betraying an interest in my welfare that softened my heart towards him,

there came into the hovel a young lady of a very sweet countenance,

followed by two or three younger girls and a little boy, all of whom

seemed glad to see me, the little boy in particular, shaking me by the

hand, while his youthful sisters (for all were my master's children)

began to drag from a basket and display before my eyes the legs of

a roasted chicken, a little tart, a jelly, and divers other dainty

viands, which they had brought with them, as they said, "for poor sick

Tom," and insisted upon seeing him eat on the spot. As for the young

lady, the eldest sister, she smiled on them and on me (for I was not

backward to accept and dispose of the savoury gifts), but told me I

must not be imprudent, nor eat too much, and I would soon be well.

"What!" thought I, "does a slave ever eat too much?"

It is astonishing what a revolution was effected in my feelings by the

gentle deportment of my master, and the kindly act of his children.

I looked upon them and myself with entirely new eyes; I felt a sort

of affection for them steal through my spirit, and I wondered why I

had ever thought of them with fear. I took a particular liking to the

little boy, who, by-the-by, was a namesake of mine, he being Massa

Tommy, and I plain Tom, and I had an unaccountable longing come over me

to take him on my back and go galloping on all-fours over the grass at

the door. I had no more thoughts of running away to avoid the dreadful

lash, and the shame of bonds; and, my master and his children presently

leaving the hovel, having first charged me to keep myself quiet and

easy, I fell sound asleep, and dreamed I lay a whole day on my back on

a clay-bank, eating johnny-cake and fried bacon.

3. CHAPTER III.

AN OLD WOMAN'S CURE FOR A DISEASE EXTREMELY PREVALENT BOTH IN THE

COLOURED AND UNCOLOURED CREATION.

The next day I was visited again by my master, and by other members of

his family whom I had not seen before, and of whom I shall say nothing

now, having occasion to mention them hereafter. The children brought me

"goodies" as before, and little Tommy told me to "make haste and get

well, for there were none of the other 'boys'"--meaning negroes--"who

knew how to gallop the cock-horse half so well as I." In short, I was

treated like a human being, and fed like a king, and began to grow

wondrous content with my situation. The doctor also came, and having

fingered about my neck for a while, declared my case to be the most

marvellous one ever known, and concluded by telling me I was well

enough to get up, and that I might do so whenever I chose.

Now this was a matter of which I was as well satisfied as he could be,

being quite certain I never was better in my life; but I felt amazing

delight in lolling a-bed, doing nothing except feeding on the good

things with which my master's children so liberally supplied me; and,

I believe; had they left the matter to be decided by my own will, I

should have been lying on that bed, luxuriating in happy laziness, to

this day. It is certain I fabricated falsehoods without number, for

the mere purpose of keeping my bed; for whenever my master, who came

to inquire about me at least once a day, ventured to hint I was well

enough to get up if I would but choose to think so, I felt myself

unaccountably impelled to declare, with sighs and groans, that I could

scarce move a limb, and that I suffered endless pangs; all which was

false, for I was strong as a horse, and without any pain whatever.

"Well, well," my venerable master used to say, "I know you are cheating

me, you rascal. But that's the way with you all. A negro will be a

negro; and, sure, I have the laziest set of scoundrels on my estate

that ever ate up a good-natured master."

Unhappily, for so I then thought it, old aunt Phoebe, who had been

appointed to nurse me, and who was very conscientious about her

master's interest in all cases where her own was not involved, was

by no means so easily imposed upon as the old gentleman; and on the

seventh day after I opened my eyes, she dispelled a pleasing revery in

which I was indulging, by bidding me arise and begone. I began to plead

my pains: "Can't play 'possum with me!" said she; "good-for-nothin'

nigga, not worth you cawn!" and, not deigning to employ any other

argument, she took a broomstick to me, and fairly beat me out of the

hovel. I thought it was very odd I should get my first beating of a

fellow-slave, and I was somewhat incensed at the old woman for her

cruelty; but by-and-by, when I had taken a seat in the sunshine,

snuffed the fresh autumn air, and looked about me a little, I fell into

a better humour with her, and--if that were possible--with myself.

4. CHAPTER IV.

SOME ACCOUNT OF RIDGEWOOD HILL, AND THE AUTHOR'S OCCUPATIONS.

My master's lands lay on and near the Potomac, and his house was

built on a hill, which bore his own name, and gave name also to the

estate--that is, Ridgewood Hill. It overlooked that wide and beautiful

river, being separated from it only by a lawn, which in the centre was

hollow, and ran down to the river in a ravine, while its flanks or

extremities, sloping but gently in their whole course, suddenly fell

down to the shore in wooded bluffs, that looked very bold and romantic

from the water. In the hollow of the lawn was a little brook, that

rose from a spring further up the hill, and found its way to the river

through the ravine, where it made many pretty little pools and cascades

among the bushes; while a creek, that was wide but shallow, swept in

from the river above, and went winding away among the hills behind.

My master's house was ancient, and, I must say, not in so good repair

as it might have been; but there were so many beautiful trees about

it that one would not think of its defects, the more especially as it

appeared only the more venerable for them. It looked handsome enough

from the river; and even from the negro-huts, which were nearer the

creek, it had an agreeable appearance; particularly when the children

were playing together on the lawn, which they did, and sometimes white

and black together, nearly all day long. They were thus engaged in

their sports when aunt Phoebe drove me from the hovel; and I remember

how soon my indignation at the unceremonious ejection was pacified by

looking on the happy creatures, thus enjoying themselves on the grass,

while my master and his eldest daughter sat on the porch, regarding

them with smiles.

How greatly I had changed within a few short days! Instead of being

moved by the sight of juvenile independence and happiness to think of

my own bitter state of servitude, I was filled with a foolish glee; and

little Tommy running up to me with shouts of joy, down I dropped on my

hands and knees, and taking him on my back, began to trot, and gallop,

and rear, and curvet over the lawn, to the infinite gratification of

himself, his little sisters, and the children of my own colour, all of

whom rewarded my efforts of horseship with screams of approbation. Now

the reader will be surprised to hear it, but I, Tom the slave (I never

remember to have heard myself called any thing but Tom), enjoyed this

foolish sport just as much as Tommy the rider, to whom I felt, I think,

some such feelings of affection--I know not how I got them, but feel

them I did--as a father experiences while playing the courser to his

own child. Nay, I was thrown into such good-humour, and felt so content

with myself, that when my master came to me, and bade me "take care

lest I should hurt myself by my exertions," I told him, in the fervour

of my heart, I was doing very well, and that I was as strong as ever I

had been; which caused him to laugh, and say I was growing marvellous

honest of a sudden.

About this time the field-hands returned from their daily labour, and,

having despatched their evening meal, they came, the women and children

with them, under the trees before the door, with banjoes, fiddles, and

clacking-bones (that is, a sort of castanets made of the ribs of an

ox), and began to sing and dance, as was their custom always every fair

evening; for my master greatly delighted, as he said, to see the poor

devils enjoy themselves; in which the poor devils were ever ready to

oblige him. They had no sooner begun the diversion, than I was seized

with an unaccountable desire to join them, which I did, dancing with

all my might, and singing and clapping my hands, the merriest and

happiest of them all. And this sort of amusement, I may as well now

inform the reader, we were in the habit of repeating so long as the

mildness of the weather permitted.

5. CHAPTER V.

IN WHICH THE AUTHOR FURTHER DESCRIBES HIS SITUATION, AND PHILOSOPHIZES

ON THE STATE OF SLAVERY.

Having thus shown myself to be perfectly cured of my broken neck, it

followed that, as a slave, I was now compelled to go into the fields

and labour. This I did, at first, very reluctantly; but by-and-by I

discovered there was but little toil expected of me, or indeed of

any other bondman; for the overseer was a good-natured man like his

employer, and lazy like ourselves. I do not know how it may be with the

slaves on other estates; but I must confess that, so far as mere labour

went, there was less done by, and less looked for from, my master's

hands, than I have ever known to be the case with the white labourers

of New-Jersey. My master owned extensive tracts of land, from which,

although now greatly empoverished and almost exhausted, he might have

drawn a princely revenue, had he exacted of his slaves the degree of

labour always demanded of able-bodied hirelings in a free state. But

such was not the custom of Virginia, or such, at least, was not the

custom of my master. He was of a happy, easy temper, neglectful of his

interest, and though often--nay, I may say incessantly--grumbling at

the flagrant laziness of all who called him master, and at the yearly

depreciation of his lands, he was content enough if the gains of the

year counterbalanced the expenses; and as but a slight degree of toil

was required to effect this happy object, it was commonly rendered, and

without repugnance, on the part of his slaves. His great consolation,

and he was always pronouncing it to himself and to us, was, "that his

hands were the greatest set of scoundrels in the world,"--which, if

unutterable laziness be scoundrelism, was true. He was pretty generally

beloved by them; which, I suppose, was because he was so good-natured;

though many used to tell me they loved him because he was their

"right-born master,"--that is, put over them by birth, and not by

purchase; for he lived upon the land occupied by his fathers before

him, and his slaves were the descendants of those who had served them.

The reader, who has seen with what horror and fear I began the life

of a slave, may ask if, after I found myself restored to health and

strength, I sought no opportunity to give my master the slip, and make

a bold push for freedom. I did not; a change had come over the spirit

of my dream: I found myself, for the first time in my life, content,

or very nearly so, with my condition, free from cares, far removed

from disquiet, and, if not actually in love with my lot, so far from

being dissatisfied, that I had not the least desire to exchange it for

another.

Methinks I see the reader throw up his hands at this, crying, "What!

content with slavery!" I assure him, now I ponder the matter over,

that I am as much surprised as himself, and that I consider my being

content with a state of bondage a very singular and unaccountable

circumstance. Nevertheless, such was the fact. I was no longer Sheppard

Lee, Zachariah Longstraw, nor anybody else, except simply Tom, Thomas,

or Tommy, the slave. I forgot that I once had been a freeman, or, to

speak more strictly, I did not remember it, the act of remembering

involving an effort of mind which it did not comport with my new habits

of laziness and indifference to make, though perhaps I _might_ have

done so, had I chosen. I had ceased to remember all my previous states

of existence. I could not have been an African had I troubled myself

with thoughts of any thing but the present.

Perhaps this defect of memory will account for my being satisfied

with my new condition. I had no recollection of the sweets of liberty

to compare and contrast with the disgusts of servitude. Perhaps my

mind was stupified--sunk beneath the ordinary level of the human

understanding, and therefore incapable of realizing the evils of my

condition. Or, perhaps, after all, considering the circumstances of my

lot with reference to those of my mind and nature, such evils did not

in reality exist. The reader may settle the difficulty for himself,

which he can do when he has read a little more of my history. In

the meanwhile, the fact is true: I was satisfied with my lot--I was

satisfied even with _myself_. The first time I looked at my new face

I was shocked at what I considered its ugliness. But having peeped at

it a dozen times or more, my ideas began to alter, and, by-and-by, I

thought it quite beautiful. I used to look at myself in aunt Phoebe's

glass by the hour, and I well remember the satisfaction with which I

listened to the following rebuke of my vanity from her, namely, "All

you pritty young niggurs with handsome faces is good for nothin, not

wuth so much as you cawn!" In short, I was something of a coxcomb; and

nothing could equal the pride and happiness of my heart, when, of a

Sabbath morning, dressed in one of my master's old coats well brushed

up, a bran-new rabbit-fur hat, the gift of little Tommy, a ruffled

shirt, and a white neckcloth, with a pair of leather gloves swinging in

one hand, and a peeled beechen wand by way of cane in the other, I went

stalking over the fields to church in the little village, near to which

my master resided.

I say again, I cannot account for my being so contented with bondage.

It may be, however, that there is nothing necessarily adverse to

happiness in slavery itself, unaccompanied by other evils; and that

when the slave is ground by no oppression and goaded by no cruelty, he

is not apt to repine or moralize upon his condition, nor to seek for

those torments of sentiment which imagination associates with the idea

of slavery in the abstract.

Of one thing, at least, I can be very certain. I never had so easy and

idle a time of it in my whole life. My little master Tommy had grown

very fond of me. It is strange anybody should be fond of a slave; but

it is true. It appears I was what they call a mere field-hand, that

is, a labourer, and quite unfit for domestic service. Nevertheless, to

please Tommy, I was taken from the tobacco-fields, and, without being

appointed to any peculiar duty about the house, was allowed to do what

I pleased, provided I made myself sufficiently agreeable to young

master. So I made him tops, kites, wind-mills, corn-stalk fiddles, and

little shingle ships with paper sails, gave him a trot every now and

then on my back, and had, in return, a due share of his oranges and

gingerbread.

In this way my time passed along more agreeably than I can describe. My

little master, it is true, used to fall into a passion and thump me now

and then; but that I held to be prime fun; particularly as,--provided

I chose to blubber a little, and pretend to be hurt,--the little rogue

would relent, and give me all the goodies he could beg, borrow, or

steal, to "make up with me," as he called it.

Little Tommy and his sisters, four in number, were the children of my

master by a second wife, who had died two years before. The oldest was

the young lady of whom I have already spoken, and she was, I believe,

not above seventeen. Her name was Isabella, and she was uncommonly

handsome. A young gentleman of the neighbourhood, named Andrews, was

paying court to her. Indeed, she had a great many admirers, and there

was much company came to see her.

My master's oldest son, the only child left by his first wife, lived

on a plantation beyond the creek, being already married, and having

children. His name was George, like his father, and the slaves used

to distinguish them as "Massa Cunnel Jodge," and "Massa Maja Jodge;"

for all the gentlemen in those parts were either colonels or majors.

The major's seat being at so short a distance, and the plantation he

cultivated a part of the colonel's great estate of Ridgewood Hill,

we used to regard him as belonging still to our master's family, and

the slaves on both plantations considered themselves as forming but

a single community. Nevertheless, we of the south side had a sort

of contempt for those of the north; for "Massa Maja," though a good

master, was by no means so easy as his father. He exacted more work;

and when he rode into the fields on our side, as he often did, he used

to swear at us for lazy loons, and declare he would, some day or other

turn over a new leaf with us.

6. CHAPTER VI.

RECOLLECTIONS OF SLAVERY.

I must again repeat what I have said, namely, that I was contented with

my servile condition, and that I was so far from looking back with

regret to my past life of freedom, that I ceased at last to remember

it altogether. I was troubled with no sense of degradation, afflicted

with no consciousness of oppression; and instead of looking upon my

master as a tyrant who had robbed me of my rights, I regarded him as a

great and powerful friend, whose protection and kindness I was bound to

requite with a loyal affection, and with so much of the labour of my

hands as was necessary to my own subsistence. What would have been my

feelings had my master been really a cruel and tyrannical man, I will

not pretend to say; but doubtless they would have been the opposite of

those I have confessed.

The above remarks apply equally to my fellow-bondmen, of whom there

were, young and old, and men and women together, more than a hundred

on the two estates. The exact number I never knew; but I remember

there were above twenty able-bodied men, or "full hands," as they were

called, when all were mustered together. There were many, especially

among the women, who were great grumblers; but that was their nature:

such a thing as serious discontent was, I am persuaded, entirely

unknown. The labours of the plantation were light, the indulgences

granted frequent and many. There was scarce a slave on the estate

who, if he laboured at all, did not labour more for himself than his

master; for all had their little lots or gardens, the produce of which

was entirely their own, and which they were free to sell to whomsoever

they listed. And hard merchants they were sometimes, even to my master,

when he would buy of them, as he often did. I remember one day seeing

old aunt Phoebe, to whom he had sent to buy some chickens, fall into a

passion and refuse to let the messenger have any, because her master

had forgotten to send the money. "Go tell old Massa Jodge," said she,

with great ire, "I no old fool to be cheated out of my money; and I

don't vally his promise to pay not _dat_!"--snapping her fingers--"he

owe me two ninepence already!" And the old gentleman was compelled to

send her the cash before she complied with his wishes.

The truth is, my master was, in some respects, a greater slave than

his bondmen; and all the tyranny I ever witnessed on the estate was

exercised by _them_, and at his expense; for there was a general

conspiracy on the part of all to cheat him, as far as was practicable,

out of their services, while they were, all the time, great sticklers

for their own rights and privileges. He was, as I have said before,

universally beloved; but his good-nature was abused a thousand times a

day.

There existed no substantial causes for dissatisfaction; and there was

therefore the best reason for content. Singing and dancing were more

practised than hard work. In a word, my master's slaves were an idle,

worthless set, but as happy as the day was long. I may say the same

of myself; I certainly was a very merry and joyous personage, and my

companions, who envied me for being the favourite of young master, used

to call me Giggling Tom.

But there is an end to the mirth of the slave, as well as the joy of

the master. A cloud at last came betwixt me and the sun; a new thought

awoke in my bosom, bringing with it a revolution of feeling, which

extended to the breasts of all my companions. It was but a small cause

to produce such great effects; but an ounce of gunpowder may be made to

blow up an army, and a drop of venom from the lip of a dog may cause

the destruction of a whole herd.

7. CHAPTER VII.

A SCENE ON THE BANKS OF THE POTOMAC, WITH THE HUMOURS OF AN AFRICAN

IMPROVISATORE.

Beneath the bluff, and at the mouth of the creek which divided the two

plantations, was a wharf or landing, where our fishing-boats (for we

had a good fishery hard by) used to discharge their cargoes, and where,

also, small shallops, coming with supplies to the plantation, put out

their freight. Here, one day, some seven or eight of the hands were

engaged removing a cargo of timber, which had just been discharged by

a small vessel; my master having bought it for the express purpose of

repairing the negro-houses, and building a new one for a fellow that

was to be married; for it seems, his crops of corn and tobacco had

turned out unusually well, and when that happened the slaves were the

first who received the benefit.

Hither I strolled, having nothing better to do, to take a position

on the side of the bluff, where I could both bask in the sunshine,

which was very agreeable (for it was now the end of October, though

fine weather), and overlook the hands working--which was still more

agreeable; for I had uncommon satisfaction to look at others labouring

while I myself was doing nothing.

Having selected a place to my liking, I lay down on the warm clay,

enjoying myself, while the others intermitted their labour to abuse

me, crying, "Cuss' lazy nigga, gigglin' Tom dah! why you no come down

work?" having employed themselves at which for a time, they resumed

their labours; and I, turning over on my back and taking a twig that

grew nigh betwixt my teeth, began to think to myself what an agreeable

thing it was to be a slave and have nothing to do.

By-and-by, hearing a great chattering and laughing among the men below,

I looked down and beheld one of them diverting himself with a ludicrous

sport, frequently practised by slaves to whom the lash is unknown. He

was frisking and dodging about pretty much as aunt Phoebe had done

when endeavouring to show me how the whip was handled in Mississippi;

and, like her, he rubbed his back, now here, now there, now with the

right, now with the left hand; now ducking to the earth, now jumping

into the air, as though some lusty overseer were plying him, whip in

hand, with all his might. The wonder of the thing was, however, that

Governor (for that was the fellow's name) had in his hand a pamphlet,

or sheet of printed paper, the contents of which he was endeavouring

both to convey to his companions and to illustrate by those ridiculous

antics. The contents of the paper were varied, for varied also was the

representation.

"Dah you go, nigga!" he cried, leaping as if from a blow; "slap on'e

leg, hit right on'e shin! yah, yah, yah--chah, chah, ch-ch-ch-ch-ah!

chah, chah, massa!--oh de dam overseeah! dat de way he whip a nigga!"

Then pausing a moment and turning a leaf of the book, he fell to

leaping again, crying--"What _dat_? dat _you_, Rose? what you been

doin? stealin' sugah?

"Jump! you nigga gal!

Hab a hard massa!

So much you git for stealin' sugah!

So much for lickin' lassa!

"Dem hard massa, licky de gals!

"Ole Vaginnee, nebber ti-ah!

what 'e debbil's de use ob floggin' like fia-ah!"

Then came another scene. "Yah, yah, yah!--what dat? Massa Maja kickin'

de pawson! I say, whaw Pawson Jim? you Jim pawson, he-ah you git'em!"

And then another--"Lorra-gorry, what he-ah? He-ah a nigga tied up in a

gum--

"Oh! de possum up de gum-tree,

'Coony in de hollow:

Two white men whip a nigga,

How de nigga holla!

"Jump, nigga, jump! yah, yah, yah! did you ebber see de debbil? jump,

nigga, jump! two white men whip a nigga? gib a nigga fay-ah play!

"When de white man comes to sticky, sticky,

Lorra-gorr! he licky, licky!

"Gib a nigga fay-ah play!"

And so he went on, describing and acting what he affected to read,

to the infinite delight of his companions, who, ceasing their work,

crowded round him, to snatch a peep at the paper, which, I observed, no

one got a good look at without jumping back immediately, rubbing his

sides, and launching into other antics, in rivalry with Governor.

8. CHAPTER VIII.

THE AUTHOR DESCENDS AMONG THE SLAVES, AND SUDDENLY BECOMES A MAN OF

FIGURE, AND AN INTERPRETER OF NEW DOCTRINES.

I was moved with curiosity to know what they had laid their hands

on, and I descended the bank to solve the mystery. The paper had

passed from the hands of Governor to those of a fellow named Jim, or

Parson Jim, as we usually called him; for he was fond of praying and

preaching, which he had been allowed to do until detected in a piece

of roguery a few weeks before by Master Major, who, besides putting a

check on his clerical propensities for the future, saluted him with

two or three kicks well laid on, on the spot. It was to this personage

and his punishment that Governor alluded, when he cried, "What he-ah?

Massa Maja kickin' de pawson!" as mentioned above. Although a great

rogue, he was a prime favourite among the negroes, who had a great

respect for his learning; for he could read print, and was even thought

to have some idea of writing. This fellow was employed, on the present

occasion, at the ox-cart; and, as it is no part of a slave's system to

do the work of others, he had been sitting apart singing a psalm, while

the others were loading his cart; and apart he had remained, until

a call was made upon him to explain so much of the paper, being the

printed portion, as Governor could not. The paper, it is here proper

to observe, had been found by Governor among the boards and scantling;

though how it got there no one knew, nor was it ever discovered. It

was a pamphlet, or magazine, I know not which (and the name I have

unfortunately forgotten), containing, besides a deal of strange matter

about slavery, some half a dozen or more wood-cuts, representing

negroes in chains, under the lash, exposed in the market for sale, and

I know not what other situations; and it was these which had afforded

the delighted Governor so much matter for mimicry and merriment.

There was one cut on the first page, serving as a frontispiece; it

represented a negro kneeling in chains, and raising his fettered hands

in beseeching to a white man, who was lashing him with a whip. Beneath

it was a legend, which being, or being deemed, explanatory of the

picture, and at the same time the initial sentence of the book, Parson

Jim was essaying to read: and thus it was he proceeded:--

"T-h-e, _the_--dat's _de_; f-a-t-e, _fat_--_de_ _fat_; o-f, _ob--de

fat ob_; t-h-e, _de--de fat ob de_; s-l-a-v-e, _slave_--_de fat ob

de slave_. My gorry, what's dat? Brederen, I can't say as how I

misprehends dat."

"Yah, yah, yah!" roared Governor; "plain as de nose on you face. _De

fat ob de slave_--what he mean, heh? Why, gorry, you dumb nigga, he

mean--massa, dah, is whippin de fat out ob de nigger! Dem hard massa

dat-ah, heh? Whip de fat out!

"Lorra-gorry, massa, don't like you whippy:

Don't sell Gubbe'nor down a Mississippi!"

"Let me read it," said I.

"_You_ read, you nigga! whar you larn to read?" cried my friends. It

was a question I could not well answer; for, as I said before, the

memory of my past existence had quite faded from my mind: nevertheless,

I had a feeling in me as if I _could_ read; and taking the book from

the parson, I succeeded in deciphering the legend--"THE FATE OF THE

SLAVE."

"Whaw dat?" said Governor; "de chain and de cowhide? Does de book say

_dat's_ de luck for nigga? Don't b'leeb 'm; dem lie: Massa Cunnel

nebber lick a nigga in 'm life!"

The reading of that little sentence seemed, I know not why, to have

cast a sudden damper on the spirits of all present. Until that moment,

there had been much shouting, laughing, and mimicking of the pains of

men undergoing flagellation. Every picture had been examined, commented

on, and illustrated with glee; it associated only the idea of some idle

vagabond or other winning his deserts. A new face, a new interpretation

was given to the matter by the words I had read. The chain and scourge

appeared no longer as the punishment of an individual; they were to be

regarded as the doom of the race. The laughing and mimicry ceased, and

I beheld around me nothing but blank faces. It was manifest, however,

that the feeling was rather indignation than anxiety; and that my

friends looked upon the ominous words as a libel upon their masters and

themselves.

"What for book say dat?" cried Governor, who, from being the merriest,

had now become the angriest of all; "who ebber hear of chain a nigga,

escept nigga runaway, or nigga gwyin' down gin' will to Mississippi?

Who ebber hear of lash a nigga, escept nigga sassbox, nigga thief,

nigga drunk, nigga break hoss' leg?"

"Brudders," said Parson Jim, "this here is a thing what is 'portant to

hear on; for, blessed be Gorra-matty, there is white men what writes

books what is friends of the Vaginnee niggur."

"All cuss' bobbolitionist!" said Governor, with sovereign

contempt--"don't b'leeb in 'm. Who says chain nigga in Vaginnee? who

says cowhide nigga in Vaginnee? _De fate ob de slave!_ Cuss' lie! An't

_I_ slave, hah? Who chains Gubbe'nor? who licks Gubbe'nor? Little book

big lie!"

And "little book big lie!" echoed all, in extreme wrath. The parson

took things more coolly. He rolled his eyes, hitched up his collar,

stroked his chin, and suggesting the propriety of reading a little

farther, proposed that "brudder Tom, who had an uncommon good hidear

of that ar sort of print, should hunt out the root of the matter;" and

lamented that "it was a sort of print _he_ could not well get along

with without his spectacles."

9. CHAPTER IX.

WHAT IT WAS THE NEGROES HAD DISCOVERED AMONG THE SCANTLING.

Thus called upon, I made a second essay, and succeeded, though not

without pain, in deciphering enough of the text to give me a notion of

the object for which the tract had been written. It was entitled "An

Address to the Owners of Slaves," and could not, therefore, be classed

among those "incendiary publications" which certain over-zealous

philanthropists are accused of sending among slaves themselves, to

inflame them into insurrection and murder. No such imputation could be

cast upon the writer. His object was of a more humane and Christian

character; it was to convince the master he was a robber and villain,

and, by this pleasing mode of argument, induce him to liberate his

bond-men. The only ill consequence that might be produced was, that the

book might, provided it fell into their hands, convince the bondmen

of the same thing; but that was a result for which the writer was not

responsible--he addressed himself only to the master. It began with the

following pithy questions and answers--or something very like them--

for I cannot pretend to recollect them to the letter.

"Why scourgest thou this man? and why dost thou hold him in bonds? Is

he a murderer? a house-burner? a ravisher? a blasphemer? a thief? No.

What then is the crime for which thou art punishing him so bitterly? He

is a negro, and my slave."

Then followed a demand "how he became, and by what right the master

claimed him as a slave;" to which the master replied, "By right of

purchase," exhibiting, at the same time, a bill of sale. At this the

querist expressed great indignation, and calling the master a robber,

cheat, and usurper, bade him show, as the only title a Christian would

sanction, "a bill of sale signed by the negro's Maker!" who alone had

the right to dispose of man's liberty; and he concluded the paragraph

by averring, "that the claim was fraudulent; that the slave was

unjustly, treacherously, unrighteously held in bonds; and that he was,

or of right should be, as free as the master himself."

Here I paused for breath; my companions looked at me with eyes staring

out of their heads. Astonishment, suspicion, and fear were depicted in

their countenances. A new idea had entered their brains. All opened

their mouths, but Governor was the only one who could speak, and he

stuttered and stammered in his eagerness so much that I could scarcely

understand him.

"Wh-wh-wh-wh-what dat!" he cried; "hab a right to fr-fr-fr-freedom,

'case Gorra-matty no s-s-s-sell me? Why den, wh-wh-wh-_who's_ slave?

Gorra-matty no trade in niggurs! I say, you Pawson Jim, wh-wh-wh-what

_you_ say dat doctrine?" The parson was dumb-founded. The difficulty

was solved by an old negro, who rolled his quid of tobacco and his eyes

together, and said,

"Whaw de debbil's de difference? Massa Cunnel no _buy_ us; we _born_

him slave, ebbery nigga he-ah!"

Unluckily, the very next paragraph was opened by the quotation from the

Declaration of Independence, that "all men were born free and equal,"

which was asserted to be true of all men, negroes as well as others;

from which it followed that the master's claim to the slave born in

thraldom was as fraudulent as in the case of one obtained by purchase.

"Whaw dat?" said Governor; "Decoration of Independence say _dat_?

Gen'ral Jodge Washington, him make dat; and Gen'ral Tommie Jefferson,

him put hand to it! 'All men born free and equal.' A nigga is a man!

who says _no_ to dat? How come Massa Cunnel to be massa den?"

That question had never before been asked on Ridgewood Hill. But all

now asked it, and all, for the first time in their lives, began to

think of their master as a foe and usurper. The strangely-expressed

idea in the pamphlet, namely--that none but their Maker could

rightfully sell them to bondage, and that other in relation to natural

freedom and equality, had captivated their imaginations, and made an

impression on their minds not readily to be forgotten. Black looks

passed from one to another, and angry expressions were uttered; and I

know not where the excitement that was fast awaking would have ended,

had not our master himself suddenly made his appearance descending the

bluff.

For the first time in their lives, the slaves beheld his approach with

terror; and all, darting upon the timber, began to labour with a zeal

and bustling eagerness which they had never shown before. But, first,

the pamphlet was snatched out of my hands, and concealed in a hollow of

the bank. Our uncommon industry (for even Parson Jim and myself were

seized with a fit of zeal, and gave our labour with the rest) somewhat

surprised the venerable old man. But as the timber was destined to

contribute to our own comforts, he attributed it to a selfish motive,

and chiding us good-humouredly and with a laugh, said, "That's the

way with you, you rogues; you can work well enough when it is for

yourselves."

"Dat's all de tanks we gits!" muttered Governor, hard by. "Wonder if we

ha'n't a better right to work than Massa Jodge to make us?"

10. CHAPTER X.

THE EFFECT OF THE PAMPHLET ON ITS READER AND HEARERS.

We had seen the last day of content on Ridgewood Hill. That little

scrap of paper, thrown among us perhaps by accident, or, as I have

sometimes thought, dropped by the fiend of darkness himself, had

conjured up a thousand of his imps, who, one after another, took

up their dwelling in our breasts, until their name was Legion. My

fellow-slaves cared little now for singing and dancing. Their only

desire, in the intervals of labour, was to assemble together below the

bluff, and dive deeper into the mysteries of the pamphlet; and as I

was the only one who could explain them, and was ready enough to do

so, I often neglected my little friend Tommy to preside over their

convocations.

Nor were these meetings confined to the original finders of the

precious document. The news had been whispered from man to man, and

the sensation spread over the whole estate, so that those who lived

with the major were as eager to escape from their labours and listen to

the new revelation as ourselves. Nay, so great was the curiosity among

them, that many who could not come when I was present to expound the

secrets of the book, would betake themselves to the bluff, to indulge a

look at it, and guess out its contents as they could from the pictures.

And by-and-by, the news having spread to a distance, we had visiters

also from the gangs of other plantations.

It was perhaps a week or more before the composition was read through

and understood by us all; and in that time it had wrought a revolution

in our feelings as surprising as it was fearful. And now, lest the

reader should doubt that the great effects I am about to record should

have really arisen from so slight a cause as a little book, I think it

proper to tell him more fully than I have done what that little book

contained.

It was, as I have said, an address to the owners of slaves, and its

object purported to be to awaken their minds to the cruelty, injustice,

and wickedness of slavery. This was sought to be effected, in the

first place, by numerous cuts, representing all the cruelties and

indignities that negro slaves had suffered, or could suffer, either in

reality, or in the imaginations of the philanthropists. Some of these

were horrible, many shocking, and all disgusting; and some of them,

I think, were copied out of Fox's Book of Martyrs, though of that I

am not certain. The moral turpitude and illegality of the institution

were shown, or attempted to be shown, now by arguments that were

handled like daggers and broad-axes, and now by savage denunciations

of the enslaver and oppressor, who were proved to be murderers,

blasphemers, tyrants, devils, and I know not what beside. The vengeance

of Heaven was invoked upon their heads, coupled with predictions of

the retribution that would sooner or later fall upon them, these being

borne out by monitory allusions to the servile wars of Rome, Syria,

Egypt, Sicily, St. Domingo, &c. &c. It was threatened that Heaven would

repeat the plagues of Egypt in America, to punish the task-masters of

the Ethiopian, as it had punished those of the Israelite, and that,

in addition, the horrors of Hayti would be enacted a second time, and

within our own borders. It was contended that the negro was, in organic

and mental structure, the white man's equal, if not his superior, and

that there was a peculiar injustice in subjecting to bondage _his_

race, which had been (or so the writer averred), in the earlier days of

the world, the sole possessors of knowledge and civilization; and there

were many triumphant references to Hannibal, Queen Sheba, Cleopatra,

and the Pharaohs, all of whom were proved to have been woolly-headed,

and as bright in spirit as they were black in visage. In short, the

book was full of strange things, and, among others, of insurrection and

murder; though it is but charitable to suppose that the writer did not

know it.

There was scarce a word in it that did not contribute to increase the

evil spirit which its first paragraph had excited among my companions.

It taught them to look on themselves as the victims of avarice, the

play-things of cruelty, the foot-balls of oppression, the most injured

people in the world: and the original greatness of their race, which

was an idea they received with uncommon pleasure, and its reviving

grandeur in the liberated Hayti, convinced them they possessed the

power to redress their wrongs, and raise themselves into a mighty

nation.

With the sense of injury came a thirst for revenge. My companions began

to talk of violence and dream of blood. A week before there was not one

of them who would not have risked his life to save his master's; the

scene was now changed--my master walked daily, though without knowing

it, among volcanoes; all looked upon him askant, and muttered curses

as he passed. A kinder-hearted man and easier master never lived;

and it may seem incredible that he should be hated without any real

cause. Imaginary causes are, however, always the most efficacious in

exciting jealousy and hatred, In affairs of the affections, slaves and

the members of political factions are equally unreasonable. The only

difference in the effect is, that the one cannot, while the other can,

and _does_, change his masters when his whim changes.

That fatal book infected my own spirit as deeply as it did those of

the others, and made me as sour and discontented as they. I began to

have sentimental notions about liberty and equality, the dignity of

man, the nobleness of freedom, and so-forth; and a stupid ambition, a

vague notion that I was born to be a king or president, or some such

great personage, filled my imagination, and made me a willing listener

to, and sharer in, the schemes of violence and desperation which my

fellow-slaves soon began to frame. It is wonderful, that among the many

thoughts that now crowded my brain, no memory of my original condition

arose to teach me the folly of my desires. But, and I repeat it again,

the past was dead with me; I lived only for the present.

A little incident that soon befell me will show the reader how

completely my feelings were identified with my condition, and how

deeply the lessons of that unlucky pamphlet had sunk into my spirit.

My little playmate, master Tommy, who was not above six years old,

being of an irascible temper, sometimes quarrelled with me; on which

occasions, as I mentioned before, he used to beat me; a liberty I

rather encouraged than otherwise, since I gained by it--though my

master strictly forbade the youth to take it. Now, as soon as my

head began to fill with the direful and magnificent conceptions of a

malecontent and conspirator, I waxed weary of child's play and master

Tommy, who, falling into a passion with me for that reason, proceeded,

on a certain occasion, to pommel my ribs with a fist about equal in

weight to the paw of a gadfly. I was incensed, I may say enraged, at

the poor child, and repaid the violence by shaking him almost to death.

Indeed, I felt for a while as if I could have killed him; and I know

not whether I might not have done it (for the devil had on the sudden

got into my spirit), had not his father discovered what I was doing,

and run to his assistance.

I then pretended that I had shaken him in sport, and thus escaped

a drubbing, of which I was at first in danger. The threat of this,

however, sank deeply into my mind, and I ever after felt a deep hatred

of both father and son. This may well be called a blind malice, for

neither had given me any real cause for it.

11. CHAPTER XI.

THE HATCHING OF A CONSPIRACY.

In the meanwhile the devil was doing his work among the others, and

disaffection grew into wrath and fury, that were not so perfectly

concealed but that my master, or rather his eldest son, who was of a

more observant disposition, began to suspect that mischief was brewing;

and in a short time it was reported among us that our master had

marked some of us as being dangerous, and was resolved to sell us to a

Mississippi trader who was then in the county. This was reported by a

spy, a house-servant, who professed to have overheard the conversation,

and who reported, besides, that our master and his son were furbishing

up their fire-arms, and laying in terrible supply of balls and powder.

Now whether this account was true or not I never knew, and I suppose I

never shall until I am in my grave. It was enough, however, to drive

us to a phrensy, those in particular who had been indicated as the

intended victims of the Mississippi trader; and the more especially,

as those men had wives and children, from whom they were told they

were to be parted. One of these was the blacksmith of the estate,

who, being a resolute and fierce-tempered fellow, instantly began to

convert all the old horseshoes and iron hoops about his shop into a

kind of blades or spear-heads, which we fastened upon poles, and hid

away in secret places. There were among us three or four men who had

muskets, with which they used to shoot wild fowl on the river, there

being great abundance at this season. These weapons were also put into

requisition; besides which we stored away butcher-knives and bludgeons,

old scythe-blades and sickles beaten straight, until we could boast

quite an armory. And here I may observe, that the faster these weapons

increased upon our hands, the more deadly became our resolutions, the

more fierce and malignant our desires; until, having at last what we

thought a sufficiency for our purpose, we gave a loose to our passions,

and determined upon a plan of proceedings that may well be called

infernal.

I believe that when we began to collect these offensive weapons

we had but vague ideas of mischief, thinking rather of defending

ourselves from some meditated outrage on the part of our master, than

of beginning an assault upon him ourselves. But now, the armory being

complete, and several cunning fellows, who had been spying out among

the surrounding plantations, bringing us word that the gangs (so they

sometimes call the whole number of hands on a farm) of most of them

were ready to strike with us for freedom; another having brought us

word that a great outbreaking had already taken place south of James

river, which, however, was not true; a third reminding us that we were

more numerous than our masters; and a fourth bidding us remember that

the negroes had once, as the little book told us, been the masters of

all the white men in the world, and might be again; I say, these things

being represented to us, as we were handling our arms and thinking what

execution we could do with them, we shook hands together, and kissing

the little pamphlet (for which we had conceived a high regard), as we

had seen white men kiss the book in courts of law, we swore we would

exterminate all the white men in Virginia, beginning with our master

and his family.

12. CHAPTER XII.

HOW THE SPOILS OF VICTORY WERE INTENDED TO BE DIVIDED.

The chief men in the conspiracy were, by all consent, the fellow called

Governor, of whom I have said so much before; Parson Jim, who, although

a little in the background at first, had soon taken a foremost stand,

and was, indeed, the first to propose murder; myself,--not that I was

really very active or fiery in the matter, but because I had become

prominent as the reader of the little book; Cesar, the blacksmith;

and a fellow named Zip, or Scipio, who was the chief fiddler and

banjo-player, and had been therefore in great favour with the family,

until he lost it by some misconduct.

The parson having uttered the diabolical proposal I mentioned before,

and seeing it well received, got up to make a speech to inflame our

courage. There was in his oration a good deal of preaching, with a

considerable sprinkling of scraps from the Bible, such as he had picked

up in the course of his clerical career. What he chiefly harped on was

that greatness of the negro nation spoken of before, and he discoursed

so energetically of the great kings and generals, "the great Faroes and

Cannibals," as he called them, who had distinguished the race in olden

time, that all became ambitious to figure with similar dignity in story.

"What _you_ speak faw, pawson?" said Governor, interrupting him, and

looking round with the air of a lord; "I be king, hah? and hab my

sarvants to wait on me!"

"What you say dah, Gub'nor?" cried Zip the fiddler, with equal spirit:

"You be king, I be president."

"I be emp'ror, like dat ah nigga in High-ty!" said another.

"I be constable!" cried a fourth.

"You be cuss'! you no go for de best man!" cried Governor, in a heat:

"I be constable myself, and I lick any nigga I like! Who say me _no_,

hah? I smash him brain out--dem nigga!" Governor was a tyrant already,

and all began to be more or less afraid of him. "I'll be de great man,

and I shall hab my choice ob de women: what you say _dat_? I sall hab

Missa Isabella faw my wife! Who say me _no_ dah?"

"Berry well!" cried Scipio: "I hab Missa Edie"--that is, Miss Edith,

the next in age, who was, however, not yet thirteen, and therefore but

a poor little child.

"Brudder Zip," said Jim the parson, "I speak fust dah! The labourer is

wordy ob his hiah--I shall put my hand to de plough, and I shall hab

Missa Edie for _my_ wife. Arter me, if you please, brudder Zip!"

"Hold you jaw, Zip," said King Governor to the fiddler, who was ready

to knock the parson down. "You shall hab Massa Maja's wife, and you

shall cut his head off fust. As faw de oder niggas he-ah, what faw use

ob quar'lin? We shall have wifes enough when we kills white massas;

gorry! we shall hab pick!"

And thus my companions apportioned among themselves, in prospective,

the wives and daughters of their intended victims; and thus, doubtless,

they would have apportioned them in reality, had the bloody enterprise

been allowed the success its projectors anticipated. I remember that my

blood suddenly froze within my veins when the conspiracy had reached

this point; and the idea of seeing those innocent, helpless maidens

made the prey of brutal murderers, was so shocking to my spirit that I

lost speech, and could scarce support myself on my feet.

While I stood thus confused among them, the conspirators determined

upon a plan of action by which, as far as I understood it, the houses

of my master and his son, the two being previously murdered, were to

be set on fire at the same moment, on the following night, and at the

sight of the flames the slaves on several neighbouring plantations were

to fall upon their masters in like manner: after which, the gangs from

all the burnt estates were to meet at a common rendezvous, and march

in a body against the neighbouring village, the sacking of which they

joyously looked forward to as the first step in a career of conquest

and triumph--in other words, of murder and rapine.

Who would have thought that a little book, framed by a philanthropist,

for the humane purpose of turning his neighbour from the error of his

way, should have lighted a torch in his dwelling only to be quenched

by blood! I am myself a witness that the pamphlet was not one of those

incendiary publications of which so much is said, as being designed

for the eyes of slaves themselves, to exasperate them to revolt. By no

means; it was addressed to the master, and of course was only designed

for him. Why the pictures were put in it, however, I cannot imagine,

since it may be supposed the master could understand the argument and

exhortation of the writer well enough without them. Perhaps they were

intended to divert his children.

The book, however, whatever may have been the object for which it was

written, had the effect to make a hundred men, who were previously

contented with their lot in life, and perhaps as happy as any other men

ordained to a life of labour, the victims of dissatisfaction and range,

the enemies of those they had once loved, and, in fine, the contrivers

and authors of their own destruction.

13. CHAPTER XIII.

THE ATTACK OF THE INSURGENTS UPON THE MANSION AT RIDGEWOOD HILL.

I said, that when the conspiracy reached the crisis mentioned before,

I was suddenly seized with terror. I began to think with what kindness

I had been treated by those I had leagued to destroy; and the baseness

and ingratitude of the whole design struck me with such force, that

I was two or three times on the point of going to my master, and

revealing it to him while he had yet the power to escape. But my fears

of him and of my fellow-ruffians deterred me. I thought he looked

fierce and stern; and as for my companions, I conceited that they were

watching me, dogging my every step, prepared to kill me the moment I

attempted to play them false. It was unfortunate that my rudeness to

Master Tommy had caused me to be banished the house; for although my

master did not beat me, he was persuaded my violence in that case was

not altogether jocose, and therefore punished me by sending me to the

fields. Hence I had no opportunity to see him in private, unless I had

sought it, which would have exposed me to observation.

The night came, and it came to me bringing such gloom and horror, that

my agitation was observed by Governor and others, who railed at me for

a coward, and threatened to take my life if I did not behave more like

a man. This only increased my alarm; and, truly, my disorder of mind

became so great, that I was in a species of stupid distraction when the

moment for action arrived; for which reason I retain but a confused

recollection of the first events, and cannot therefore give a clear

relation of them.

I remember that there was some confusion produced by an unexpected act

on the part of our master, who, it was generally supposed, designed

crossing the creek to visit the major, having ordered his carriage and

the ferry-boat to be got ready, and it was resolved to kill him while

crossing the creek on his return; after which we were to fire a volley

of guns, as a signal to the major's gang, and then assault and burn our

master's dwelling. Instead of departing, however, when the night came,

he remained at home, shut up with the overseer and young Mr. Andrews,

his daughter's lover; and it was reported that they had barred up the

doors and windows, and were sitting at a table covered with loaded

pistols; thus making it manifest that they suspected our intentions,

and were resolved to defend themselves to the last.

For my part, I have never believed that our master suspected his

danger at all; he perceived, indeed, that an ill spirit had got among

his people, but neither he nor any of his family really believed that

mischief was intended. Had they done so, he would undoubtedly have

procured assistance, or at least removed his children. The windows were

barred indeed, and perhaps earlier than usual, which may have been

accidental; and as for the fire-arms on the table, I believe they were

only fowling-pieces, which my master, Mr. Andrews, and the overseer,

who was a great fowler, and therefore much favoured by my master, who

was a veteran sportsman, were getting ready to shoot wild ducks with in

the morning.

My companions, however, were persuaded that our victims were on their

guard; and the hour drawing nigh at which they had appointed to strike

the first blow, and give the signal to the neighbouring gangs, they

were at a loss, not knowing what to do; for they were afraid to attack

the house while three resolute men, armed with pistols, stood ready to

receive them. In this conjuncture it was proposed by Governor, who,

from having been a fellow notorious for nothing save monkey tricks and

waggery, was now become a devil incarnate, he was so bold, cunning, and

eager for blood, to fire the pile of timber where it stood near the

quarters, or negro-huts; the burning of which would serve the double

purpose of drawing our intended victims from the house, and giving the

signal to the neighbouring estates.

The proposal was instantly adopted, and in a few moments the pile of

dry resinous wood was in a flame, burning with prodigious violence,

and casting a bright light over the whole mansion, the lawn, and even

the neighbouring river. At the same moment, and just as we were about

to raise the treacherous alarm, we heard a sudden firing of guns and

shouting beyond the creek at the major's house, which made us suppose

the negroes there had anticipated us in the rising.

Emulous not to be outdone, our own party now set up a horrid alarm of

"Fire!" accompanied with screams and yells that might have roused the

dead, and ran to the mansion door, as if to demand assistance of their

master.

Never shall I forget the scene that ensued. I stood rooted to the

ground, not twenty steps from the house, when the door was thrown

open, and my master rushed out, followed by Andrews and the overseer.

They had scarce put foot on the porch before six or seven guns, being

all that the conspirators could muster, and which the owners held in

readiness, were discharged at them, and then they were set upon by

others with the spears. The light of the fire illuminated the porch,

so that objects were plainly distinguishable; yet so violent was the

rush of assailants, so wild the tumult, so brief the contest, that I

can scarce say I really witnessed the particulars of the tragedy. I

beheld, indeed, my master's gray hairs, for he was of towering stature,

floating an instant over the heads of the assailants; but the next

moment they had vanished; and I saw but a single white man struggling

in the hall against a mass of foes, and crying out to Miss Isabella

by name, "to escape with the children." Vain counsel, vain sacrifice

of safety to humanity; the faithful overseer (for it was he who made

this heroic effort to save his master's children, his master and young

Andrews lying dead or mortally wounded on the porch) was cut down on

the spot, and the shrieks of the children as they fled, some into the

open air by a back door, and others to the upper chambers, and the

savage yells of triumph with which they were pursued, told how vainly

he had devoted himself to save them.

14. CHAPTER XIV.

THE TRAGICAL OCCURRENCES THAT FOLLOWED.

While I stood thus observing the horrors I had been instrumental in

provoking, as incapable of putting a stop to as of assisting in them,

I saw two of the children, little Tommy and his youngest sister, Lucy,

a girl of seven or eight years, running wildly over the lawn, several

of my ruffian companions pursuing them. The girl was snatched up by old

aunt Phoebe, who, with other women, had come among us, wringing her

hands, and beseeching us not to kill their young misses, and was thus

saved. As for the boy, he caught sight of me, and sprang into my arms,

entreating me "not to let them kill him, and he would never hurt me

again in all his life, and would give me all his money."

Poor child! I would have defended him at that moment with my life, for

my heart bled for what had already been done; but he was snatched out

of my hands, and I saw no more of him. I heard afterward, however, that

he was not hurt, having been saved by the women, who had protected in

like manner his two little sisters, Jane and Lucy. As for the others,

that is, Isabella and Edith, I witnessed their fate with my own eyes;

and it was the suddenness and horror of it that, by unmanning me

entirely, prevented my giving aid to the boy when he was torn from my

arms.

The fire had by this time spread from the timber to an adjacent cabin,

and a light equal to that of noon, though red as blood itself, was

shed over the whole mansion, on the roof of which was a little cupola,

or observatory, open to the weather, where was room for five or six

persons to sit together, and enjoy the prospect of the river and

surrounding hills; and on either side of this cupola was a platform,

though without a balustrade, on which was space for as many more.

The observatory being strongly illuminated by the flames, and my

eyes being turned thitherward by a furious yell which was suddenly

set up around me, I beheld my master's daughter Isabella rush into

it,--that is, into the observatory,--from the staircase below, hotly

pursued, as was evident from what followed. She bore in her arms, or

rather dragged after her, for the child was in a swoon, her sister

Edith, who was but small of stature and light; and as she reached this

forlorn place of refuge, she threw down the trapdoor that covered its

entrance, and endeavoured to keep it down with her foot. There was

something inexpressibly fearful in her appearance, independent of the

dreadfulness of her situation, separated only by a narrow plank from

ruffians maddened by rage and carnage, from whom death itself was a

boon too merciful to be expected, and from whom she was to guard not

only herself, but the feeble, unconscious being hanging on her neck.

Her hair was all dishevelled, her dress torn and disordered, and her

face as white as snow; yet there was a wild energy and fierceness

breathing from every feature, and she looked like a lioness defending

to the last her young from the hunters, from whom she yet knows there

is no escape.

The trapdoor shook under her foot, and was at last thrown violently

up; and up, with screams of triumph, darted the infuriated Governor,

followed by Jim and others, to grasp their prey. Their prey had fled:

without uttering a word or scream, she sprang from the cupola to the

platform at its side, and then, with a fearlessness only derived from

desperation, and still bearing her insensible sister, she stepped upon

the roof, which was high and steep, and ran along it to its extremity.