Four years afterward, I became the wife of Zachariah Delaney, of
Cincinnati, with whom I have had a happy married life, continuing
forty-two years. Four children were born to us, and many were the
plans we mapped out for their future, but two of our little girls were
called from us while still in their childhood. My remaining daughter
attained the age of twenty-two years, and left life behind, while the
brightest of prospects was hers, and my son, in the fullness of a
promising youth, at the age of twenty-four, "turned his face to the
wall." So my cup of bitterness was full to the brim and overflowing;
yet one consolation was always mine! Our children were born free and
died free! Their childhood and my maternity were never shadowed with a
thought of separation. The grim reaper did not spare them, but they
were as "treasures laid up in heaven." Such a separation one could
accept from the hand of God, with humble submission, "for He calleth
His own!"
Mother always made her home with me until the day of her death; she
had lived to see the joyful time when her race was made free, their
chains struck off, and their right to their own flesh and blood
lawfully acknowledged. Her life, so full of sorrow, was ended, full of
years and surrounded by many friends, both black and white, who
recognized and appreciated her sufferings and sacrifices and rejoiced
that her old age was spent in freedom and plenty. The azure vault of
heaven bends over us all, and the gleaming moonlight brightens the
marble tablet which marks her last resting place, "to fame and fortune
unknown," but in the eyes of Him who judgeth us, hers was a heroism
which outvied the most famous.
* * * * *
I frequently thought of father, and wondered if he were alive or dead;
and at the time of the great exodus of negroes from the South, a few
years ago, a large number arrived in St. Louis, and were cared for by
the colored people of that city. They were sheltered in churches,
halls and private houses, until such time as they could pursue their
journey. Methought, I will find him in this motley crowd, of all ages,
from the crowing babe in its mother's arms, to the aged and decrepit,
on whom the marks of slavery were still visible. I piled inquiry upon
inquiry, until after long and persistent search, I learned that my
father had always lived on the same plantation, fifteen miles from
Vicksburg. I wrote to my father and begged him to come and see me and
make his home with me; sent him the money, so he would be to no
expense, and when he finally reached St. Louis, it was with great joy
that I received him. Old, grizzled and gray, time had dealt hardly
with him, and he looked very little like the dapper master's valet,
whose dark beauty won my mother's heart.
Forty-five years of separation, hard work, rough times and heart
longings, had perseveringly performed its work, and instead of a man
bearing his years with upright vigor, he was made prematurely old by
the accumulation of troubles. My sister Nancy came from Canada, and we
had a most joyful reunion, and only the absence of our mother left a
vacuum, which we deeply and sorrowfully felt. Father could not be
persuaded to stay with us, when he found his wife dead; he longed to
get back to his old associations of forty-five years standing, he felt
like a stranger in a strange land, and taking pity on him, I urged him
no more, but let him go, though with great reluctance.
* * * * *
There are abounding in public and private libraries of all sorts,
lives of people which fill our minds with amazement, admiration,
sympathy, and indeed with as many feelings as there are people, so I
can scarcely expect that the reader of these episodes of my life will
meet with more than a passing interest, but as such I will commend it
to your thought for a brief hour. To be sure, I am deeply sensible
that this story, as written, is not a very striking performance, but I
have brought you with me face to face with but only a few of the
painful facts engendered by slavery, and the rest can be drawn from
history. Just have patience a little longer, and I have done.
I became a member of the Methodist Episcopal Church in 1855; was
elected President of the first colored society, called the "Female
Union," which was the first ever organized exclusively for women; was
elected President of a society known as the "Daughters of Zion"; was
matron of "Siloam Court," No. 2, three years in succession; was Most
Ancient Matron of the "Grand Court of Missouri," of which only the
wives of Masons are allowed to become members. I am at present, Past
Grand Chief Preceptress of the "Daughters of the Tabernacle and
Knights of Tabor," and also was Secretary, and am still a member, of
Col. Shaw Woman's Relief Corps, No. 34, auxiliary to the Col. Shaw
Post, 343, Grand Army of the Republic.
Considering the limited advantages offered me, I have made the best
use of my time, and what few talents the Lord has bestowed on me I
have not "hidden in a napkin," but used them for His glory and to
benefit those for whom I live. And what better can we do than to live
for others?
Except the deceitfulness of riches, nothing is so illusory as the
supposition of interest we assume that our readers may feel in our
affairs; but if this sketch is taken up for just a moment of your
life, it may settle the problem in your mind, if not in others, "Can
the negro race succeed, proportionately, as well as the whites, if
given the same chance and an equal start?"
"The hours are growing shorter for the millions who are toiling;
And the homes are growing better for the millions yet to be;
And we all shall learn the lesson, how that waste and sin are spoiling
The fairest and the finest of a grand humanity.
It is coming! it is coming! and men's thoughts are growing deeper;
They are giving of their millions as they never gave before;
They are learning the new Gospel; man must be his brother's keeper,
And right, not might, shall triumph, and the selfish rule no more."
Finis.
* * * * *
=Transcriber's Notes=
Spelling variations have been retained for:
Chapter I, Page 10: Polly Crocket
(Living with Mrs. Posey was a little negro girl, named Polly Crocket,
who had made it her home there, in peace and happiness, for five
years.)
Chapter IV, Page 43: Polly Crockett Berry
(The testimony of Judge Wash is alone sufficient to substantiate the
claim of Polly Crockett Berry to the defendant as being her own
child.)
Other minor typographical and punctuation errors have been
corrected from the original to reflect the author's intent.