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        <title><emph>Narrative of the Life and Adventures of Henry Bibb, An American Slave, Written by Himself:</emph>
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        <author>Bibb, Henry, b.1815 </author>
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            <title type="title page"> Narrative of the Life and Adventures of Henry Bibb, An American Slave,
 Written by Himself.  With an Introduction by Lucius C. Matlack.</title>
            <author>Written by Himself.</author>
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            <date>1849.</date>
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            <item>Slaves -- Kentucky -- Biography.</item>
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    <front>
      <div1 type="frontispiece image">
        <p>
          <figure id="frontis" entity="bibbfp">
            <p>Engraved by P.H. Reason<lb/>
Henry Bibb <lb/>
<gap reason="illegible"/>e runaway! where is he? 	
   	     $50 Reward for <gap reason="illegible"/>
<lb/>
Daniel Lane after Henry Bibb in Louisville, Kentucky June 1838
<lb/>The object was to sell Bibb in the Slave market but Bibb turned
<lb/>the corner too quick for him &amp; escaped.
</p>
          </figure>
        </p>
      </div1>
      <div1 type="title page image">
        <p>
          <figure id="title" entity="bibbtp">
            <p>[Title Page Image]</p>
          </figure>
        </p>
      </div1>
      <titlePage>
        <docTitle>
          <titlePart type="main">NARRATIVE
<lb/>
OF THE
<lb/>
LIFE AND ADVENTURES
<lb/>
OF
<lb/>
HENRY BIBB,</titlePart>
          <titlePart type="main">AN AMERICAN SLAVE,</titlePart>
          <titlePart type="main">WRITTEN BY HIMSELF
<lb/>
WITH
<lb/>
AN INTRODUCTION
<lb/>
BY LUCIUS C. MATLACK.</titlePart>
        </docTitle>
        <docImprint><pubPlace>NEW YORK:</pubPlace>
<publisher>PUBLISHED BY THE AUTHOR; 5 SPRUCE STREET.</publisher>
<docDate>1849.</docDate></docImprint>
        <pb id="bibbvs" n="verso"/>
        <docImprint><docDate>Entered according to the Act of Congress in the year 1849,
<lb/>
By HENRY BIBB,
<lb/>
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Southern District of New York.</docDate>
<publisher>MACDONALD &amp; LEE, PRINTERS,</publisher>
<pubPlace>9 SPRUCE STREET, N. Y.</pubPlace></docImprint>
      </titlePage>
      <div1 type="Introduction">
        <pb id="bibbi" n="i"/>
        <head>INTRODUCTION.</head>
        <p>FROM the most obnoxious substances we often see spring
forth, beautiful and fragrant, flowers of every hue, to regale the
eye, and perfume the air. Thus, frequently, are results originated
which are wholly unlike the cause that gave them birth.
An illustration of this truth is afforded by the history of
American Slavery.</p>
        <p>Naturally and necessarily, the enemy of literature, it has
come the prolific theme of much that is profound in argument,
sublime in poetry, and thrilling in narrative. From the soil of
slavery itself have sprang forth some of the most brilliant
productions, whose logical levers will ultimately upheave and
overthrow the system. Gushing fountains of poetic thought, have
started from beneath the rod of violence, that will long continue
to slake the feverish thirst of humanity outraged, until swelling
to a flood it shall rush with wasting violence over the ill-gotten
heritage of the oppressor. Startling incidents authenticated,
far excelling fiction in their touching pathos, from the pen of
self-emancipated slaves, do now exhibit slavery in such revolting
aspects, as to secure the execrations of all good men, and
become a monument more enduring than marble, in testimony
strong as sacred writ against it.</p>
        <p>Of the class last named, is the narrative of the life of Henry
Bibb, which is equally distinguished as a revolting portrait of
the hideous slave system, a thrilling narrative of individual
suffering, and a triumphant vindication of the slave's manhood and
mental dignity. And all this is associated with unmistakable
traces of originality and truthfulness.</p>
        <p>To many, the elevated style, purity of diction, and easy flow
of language, frequently exhibited, will appear unaccountable
and contradictory, in view of his want of early mental culture.
<pb id="bibbii" n="ii"/>
But to the thousands who have listened with delight to his
speeches on anniversary and other occasions, these same traits
will be noted as unequivocal evidence of originality. Very
few men present in their written composition, so perfect a transcript
of their style as is exhibited by Mr. Bibb.</p>
        <p>Moreover, the writer of this introduction is well acquainted
with his handwriting and style. The entire manuscript I have
examined and prepared for the press. Many of the closing
pages of it were written by Mr. Bibb in my office. And the
whole is preserved for inspection now. An examination of it
will show that no alteration of sentiment, language or style,
was necessary to make it what it now is, in the hands of the
reader. The work of preparation for the press was that of
orthography and punctuation merely, an arrangement of the
chapters, and a table of contents—little more than falls to the lot
of publishers generally.</p>
        <p>The fidelity of the narrative is sustained by the most satisfactory
and ample testimony. Time has proved its claims to truth.
Thorough investigation has sifted and analysed every essential
fact alleged, and demonstrated clearly that this thrilling and
eloquent narrative, though stranger than fiction, is undoubtedly
true.</p>
        <p>It is only necessary to present the following documents to
the reader, to sustain this declaration. For convenience of
reference, and that they may be more easily understood, the
letters will be inserted consecutively, with explanations following
the last.</p>
        <p>The best preface to these letters, is<sic>,</sic> the report of a committee
appointed to investigate the truth of Mr. Bibb's narrative as
he has delivered it in public for years past.</p>
        <q type="report" direct="unspecified">
          <text>
            <body>
              <div1 type="report">
                <head>REPORT
<lb/>
OF THE UNDERSIGNED, COMMITTEE APPOINTED BY THE DETROIT<lb/>
LIBERTY ASSOCIATION TO INVESTIGATE THE TRUTH OF THE<lb/>
NARRATIVE OF HENRY BIBB, A FUGITIVE FROM SLAVERY, AND<lb/>
REPORT THEREON:</head>
                <p>Mr. Bibb has addressed several assemblies in Michigan, and
his narrative is generally known. Some of his hearers, among
whom were Liberty men, felt doubt as to, the truth of his statements.
Respect for their scruples and the obligation of duty
<pb id="bibbiii" n="iii"/>
to the public induced the formation of the present Committee.</p>
                <p>The Committee entered on the duty confided to them,
resolved on a searching scrutiny, and all unreserved publication
of its result. Mr. Bibb acquiesced in the inquiry with a
praiseworthy spirit. He attended before the Committee and gave
willing aid to its object. He was subjected to a rigorous
examination. Facts—dates—persons—and localities were
demanded and cheerfully furnished. Proper inquiry—either by
letter, or personally, or through the medium of friends was then
made from <hi rend="italics">every</hi> person, and in <hi rend="italics">every</hi> quarter likely to elucidate
the truth. In fact no test for its ascertainment, known to the
sense or experience of the Committee, was omitted. The
result was the collection of a large body of testimony from very
diversified quarters. Slave owners, slave dealers, fugitives
from slavery, political friends and political foes contributed to
a mass of testimony, every part of which pointed to a common
conclusions—the undoubted truth of Mr. Bibb's statements.</p>
                <p>In the Committee's opinion no individual can substantiate
the events of his life by testimony more conclusive and harmonious
than is now before them in confirmation of Mr. Bibb.
The main facts of his narrative, and many of the minor ones
are corroborated beyond all question. No inconsistency has
been disclosed nor anything revealed to create suspicion. The
Committee have no hesitation in declaring their conviction that
Mr. Bibb is amply sustained, and is entitled to public
confidence and high esteem.</p>
                <p>The bulk of testimony precludes its publication, but it is in
the Committee's hands for the inspection of any applicant.</p>
                <closer><signed>A. L. PORTER<lb/>
C. H. STEWART<lb/>
SILAS M. HOLMES.<lb/>Committee.</signed><dateline>DETROIT, </dateline>
<date><hi rend="italics">April</hi> 22, 1845.</date></closer>
              </div1>
            </body>
          </text>
        </q>
        <p>From the bulk of testimony obtained, a part only is here
introduced. The remainder fully corroborates and strengthens
that.</p>
        <div2 type="letter">
          <head>[No. 1. An Extract] </head>
          <opener><dateline>DAWN MILLS, FEB. 19th, 1845.</dateline>
<salute>CHARLES H. STEWART, ESQ.</salute>
<salute>MY DEAR BROTHER:</salute></opener>
          <p>Your kind communication of the 13th came to hand yesterday.
I have made inquiries respecting Henry Bibb which may be of
service to you. Mr. Wm. Harrison, to whom you allude in
your letter is here. He is a respectable and worthy man—
a man of piety. I have just had in interview with him this
evening. He testifies, that he was well acquainted with Henry
Bibb in Trimble County, Ky., and that he sent a letter to him
by Thomas Henson, and got one in return from him. He says
that Bibb came out to Canada some three years ago, and went
back to get his wife up, but was betrayed at Cincinnati by a
colored man—that he was taken to Louisville but got away—
<pb id="bibbiv" n="iv"/>
was taken again and lodged in jail, and sold off to New
Orleans, or he, (Harrison,) understood that he was taken to New
Orleans. He testifies that Bibb is a Methodist man, and says
that two persons who came on with him last Summer, knew Bibb.
One of these, Simpson Young, is now at Malden. * * *</p>
          <closer><salute>Very respectfully, thy friend,</salute>
<signed>HIRAM WILSON.</signed></closer>
        </div2>
        <div2 type="letter">
          <head>[No. 2.]</head>
          <opener>
            <dateline> BEDFORD, TRIMBLE CO., KENTUCKY<lb/>
<date>March 4, 1845.</date></dateline>
          </opener>
          <p>SIR:—Your letter under date of the 13th ult., is now
before me, making some inquiry about a person supposed to be a
fugitive from the South, “who is lecturing to your religious
community on Slavery and the South.”</p>
          <p>I am pleased to inform you that I have it in my power to give
you the information you desire. The person spoken of by you
I have no doubt is Walton, yellow man, who once belonged to
my father, William Gatewood. He was purchased by him from
John Sibly, and by John Sibly of his brother Albert G. Sibly,
and Albert G. Sibly became possessed of him by his marriage
with Judge David White's daughter, he being born Judge
White's slave.</p>
          <p>The boy Walton at the time he belonged to John Sibly,
married a slave of my father's, a mulatto girl, and sometime
afterwards solicited him to buy him; the old man after much
importuning from Walton, consented to do so, and accordingly paid
Sibly eight hundred and fifty dollars. He did not buy him
because he needed him, but from the fact that he had a wife there,
and Walton on his part promising every thing that my father
could desire.</p>
          <p>It was not long, however, before Walton became indolent and
neglectful of his duty; and in addition to this, he was guilty,
as the old man thought, of worse offences. He watched his
conduct more strictly, and found he was guilty of disposing of
articles from the farm, and pocketing the money.</p>
          <p>He actually caught him one day stealing wheat—he had
conveyed one sack full to a neighbor and whilst he was delivering
the other my father caught him in the very act.</p>
          <p>He confessed his guilt and promised to do better for the
future—and on his making promises of this kind my father was
disposed to keep him still, not wishing to part him from his wife,
for whom he professed to entertain the strongest of affection.
When the Christmas holidays came on, the old man, as usual
in this country, gave his negroes a week Holiday. Walton,
instead of regaling himself by going about visiting colored
friends, took up his line of march for her <sic>Britanic</sic> Majesty's
dominions.</p>
          <p>He was gone about two years I think, when I heard of him
<pb id="bibbv" n="v"/>
in Cincinnati; I repaired thither,  with some few friends to aid
me, and succeeded in securing him.</p>
          <p>He was taken to Louisville, and on the next morning after our
arrival there, he escaped, almost from before our face, while we
were on the street before the Tavern. He succeeded in eluding
our pursuit, and again reached Canada in safety.</p>
          <p>Nothing daunted he returned, after a lapse of some twelve
or eighteen months, with the intention, as I have since learned,
of conducting off his wife and eight or ten more slaves to
Canada.</p>
          <p>I got news of his whereabouts, and succeeded in recapturing
him. I took him to Louisville and together with his wife and
child, (she going along with him at her owner's request,) sold
<sic corr="them.">hem.</sic> He was taken from thence to New Orleans—and from
hence to Red River Arkansas—and the next news I had of
him he was again wending  his way to Canada, and I suppose
now is at or near Detroit.</p>
          <p>In relation to his character, it was the general opinion here
that he was a notorious liar, and a rogue. These things I can
procure any number of respectable witnesses to prove.</p>
          <p>In proof of it, he says his mother belonged to James Bibb,
which is a lie, there not having been such a man about here,
much less brother of Secretary Bibb. He says that Bibb's
daughter married A.G. Sibly, when the fact is Sibly married
Judge David White's daughter, and his mother belonged to
White also an is now here, free.</p>
          <p>So you will perceive he is guilty of lying for no effect, and
what might it not be supposed he would do where he could effect
anything by it.</p>
          <p>I have been more tedious than I should have been, but being
anxious to give you his rascally conduct in full, must be my
apology. You are at liberty to publish this letter, or make any
use you see proper of it. If you do publish it, let me have a
paper containing the publication—at any rate let me hear from
you again.</p>
          <closer><salute>Respectfully yours, &amp;c.,</salute>
<signed>SILAS GATEWOOD.</signed>
<salute>To C.H. STEWART, Esq.</salute></closer>
        </div2>
        <div2 type="letter">
          <head>[No. 3. An Extract.]</head>
          <opener> <dateline>CINCINNATI, <date><hi rend="italics">March</hi> 10, 1845.</date></dateline></opener>
          <p>MY DEAR SIR:—Mrs. Path, Nickens and Woodson did not
see Bibb on his first visit, in 1837, when he staid with Job
Dundy, but were subsequently told of it by Bibb. They first
saw him in May, 1838. Mrs. Path remembers this date because it
was the month in which she removed from Broadway to Harrison
street, and Bibb assisted her to remove, Mrs. Path's
garden adjoined Dundy's back yard. While engaged in digging
up flowers, she was addressed by Bibb, who was staying
with Dundy, and who offered to dig them up for her. She hired
<pb id="bibbvi" n="vi"/>
him to do it. Mrs. Dundy shortly after called over and told
Mrs. Path that he was a slave. After that Mrs. Path took him
into her house and concealed him. While concealed, he
astonished his good protectress by his ingenuity in bottoming
chairs with cane. When the furniture was removed, Bibb
insisted on helping, and was, after some remonstrances, permitted.
At the house on Harrison Street, he was employed for several
days in digging a cellar, and was so employed when seized on
Saturday afternoon by the constables. He held frequent
conversations with Mrs. Path and others, in which he gave them
the same account which he has given you.</p>
          <p>On Saturday afternoon, two noted slave catching constables,
E.V. Brooks and O'Neill, surprised Bibb, as he was digging in
the cellar. Bibb sprang for the fence and gained the top of it,
where he was seized and dragged back. They took him immediately
before William Doty, a Justice of infamous notoriety
as an accomplice of kidnappers, proved property, paid charges
and took him away.</p>
          <p>His distressed friends were surprised by his re-appearance
in a few days after, the Wednesday following, as they think.
He reached the house of Dr. Woods, (a colored since
Deceased,) before day-break, and staid until dusk. Mrs. Path,
John Woodson and others made up about twelve dollars for him.
Woodson accompanied him out of town a mile and bid him
“God Speed.” He has never been here since. Woodson and
Clark saw him at Detroit two years ago.</p>
          <closer><salute>Yours truly,</salute>
<signed>WILLIAM BIRNEY.</signed></closer>
        </div2>
        <div2 type="letter">
          <head>[No. 4]</head>
          <opener>
            <dateline> LOUISVILLE, <date><hi rend="italics">March</hi> 14, 1845.</date></dateline>
          </opener>
          <p>MR. STEWART.—Yours of the 1st came to hand on the 13th inst.
You wished me to inform you what became of a boy that was
in the work-house in the fall of '38. The boy you allude to
went by the name of Walton; he had ran away from Kentucky
some time before, and returned for his wife—was caught and
sold to Garrison; he was taken to Louisiana, I think—he was sold
on Red River to a planter. As Garrison is absent in the City
of New Orleans at this time, I cannot inform you who he was
sold to. Garrison will be in Louisville some time this Spring;
if you wish me, I will inquire of Garrison and inform you to
whom he was sold, and where his master lives at this time.</p>
          <closer><salute>Yours,</salute>
<signed>W. PORTER.</signed></closer>
        </div2>
        <div2 type="letter">
          <head>[No. 5]</head>
          <opener><dateline>BEDFORD, TRIMBLE COUNTY, KY.</dateline>
<salute>C. H. STEWART, Esq.,</salute></opener>
          <p>SIR.—I received your note on the 16th inst., and in accordance
with it I write you these lines. You stated that you would
<pb id="bibbvii" n="vii"/>
wish to know something about Walton H. Bibb, and whether
he had a wife and child, and whether they were sold to New
Orleans. Sir, before I answer these inquiries, I should like to
know who Charles H. Stewart is, and why you should make
these inquiries of me, and how you knew who I was, as you are
a stranger to me and I must be to you. In your next if you
will tell me the intention of your inquiries, I will give you a
full history of the whole case.</p>
          <p>I have a boy in your county by the name of King, a large
man and very black; if you are acquainted with him, give him
my compliments, an tell him I am well, and all of his friends.
W.H. Bibb is acquainted with him.</p>
          <p>I wait your answer.</p>
          <closer><salute>Your most obedient,</salute>
<signed> W.H. GATEWOOD.</signed>
<date>March 17, 1845. </date></closer>
        </div2>
        <div2 type="letter">
          <head>[No. 6.]</head>
          <opener><dateline>BEDFORD, KENTUCKY, <date><hi rend="italics">April</hi> 6th, 1845.</date></dateline>
<salute>MR. CHARLES H. STEWART</salute></opener>
          <p>SIR:—Yours of the 1st March is before me, inquiring if one
Walton Bibb, a colored man, escaped from me at Louisville Ky.,
in the Spring of 1839. To that inquiry I answer, he did. The
particulars are these: He ran off from William Gatewood some
time in 1838 I think, and was heard of in Cincinnati. Myself and
some others went there and took him, and took him to Louisville
for sale, by the directions of his master. While there he
made his escape and was gone some time, I think about one
year or longer. He came back it was said, to get his wife and
child, so report says. He was again taken by his owner; he
together with his wife and child was taken to Louisville and
sold to a man who traded in negroes, and was taken by him to
New Orleans and sold with his wife and child to some man up
Red River, so I was informed by the man who sold him. He
then ran off and left his wife and child and got back, it seems,
to your Country. I can say for Gatewood he was a good master,
and treated him well. Gatewood bought him from a Mr.
Sibly, who was going to send him down the river. Walton, to
my knowledge, influenced Gatewood to buy him, and promised
if he would never to disobey him or run off. Who he belongs
to now, I do not know. I know Gatewood sold his wife and
child at a great sacrifice, to satisfy him. If any other information
is necessary I will give it, if required. You will please
write me again what he is trying to do in your country, or what
he wishes the inquiry from me for.</p>
          <closer><salute>Yours, truly,</salute>
<signed>DANIEL S. LANE.</signed></closer>
        </div2>
        <div2 type="section">
          <p>These letters need little comment. Their testimony
combined is most harmonious and conclusive. Look at the points
established.</p>
          <pb id="bibbviii" n="viii"/>
          <p>1. Hiram Wilson gives the testimony of reputable men now
in Canada, who knew Henry Bibb as a slave in Kentucky.</p>
          <p>2. Silas Gatewood, with a peculiar relish, fills three pages of
foolscap, “being anxious to give his rascally conduct in full,”
as he says. But he vaults over the saddle and lands on the
other side. His testimony is invaluable as an endorsement of
Mr. Bibb's truthfulness. He illustrates all the essential facts
of this narrative. He also labors to prove him deceitful and a
liar.</p>
          <p>Deceit in a slave, is only a slight reflex of the stupendous
fraud practised by his master. And its indulgence has far more
logic in its favor, than the ablest plea ever written for slave
holding, under ever such peculiar circumstances. The attempt to
prove Mr. Bibb in the lie, is a signal failure, as he never affirmed
what Gatewood denies. With this offset, the letter under
notice is a triumphant vindication of one, whom he thought thereby
to injure sadly. As Mr. Bibb has most happily acknowledged
the wheat, (see page 194,) I pass the charge of stealing by
referring to the logic there need, which will be convincing.</p>
          <p>3. William Birney, Esq., attests the facts of Mr. Bibb's arrest
in Cincinnati, and the subsequent escape, as narrated by him,
from the declaration of eye witnesses.</p>
          <p>4. W. Porter, Jailor, states that Bibb was in the work-house
at Louisville, held and sold afterwards to the persons and at the
places named in this volume.</p>
          <p>5. W.H. Gatewood, with much Southern dignity, will
answer no questions, but show his relation to these matters by
naming “King”—saying, “W.H. Bibb is acquainted with
him,” and promising “a full history of the case.”</p>
          <p>6. Daniel S. Lane, with remarkable straight-forwardness and
stupidity, tells all he knows, and then wants to know what they
ask him for. The writer will answer that question. He wanted
to prove by two or more witnesses, the truth of his own statements;
which has most surely been accomplished.</p>
          <p>Having thus presented an array of testimony sustaining the
alleged in this narrative, the introduction will be concluded
by introducing a letter signed by respectable men of
<pb id="bibbix" n="ix"/>
Detroit, and endorsed by Judge Wilkins, showing the high esteem
in which Mr. Bibb is held by those who know him well
where he makes his home. Their testimony expresses their
present regard as well as an opinion of his past character. It
is introduced here with the greatest satisfaction, as the writer
is assured, from an intimate acquaintance with Henry Bibb,
that all who know him hereafter will entertain the same
sentiment toward him:</p>
          <q type="letter" direct="unspecified">
            <text>
              <body>
                <div1 type="letter">
                  <opener>
                    <dateline>DETROIT, 
<date><hi rend="italics">March</hi> 16, 1845.</date></dateline>
                  </opener>
                  <p>The undersigned have pleasure in recommending Henry
Bibb to the kindness and confidence of Anti-slavery friends in
every State. He has resided among us for some years. His
deportment, his conduct, and his christian course have won our
esteem and affection. The narrative of his sufferings and more
early life has been thoroughly investigated by a Committee
appointed for the purpose. They sought evidence respecting it in
every proper quarter, and their report attested its undoubted
truth. In this conclusion we all cordially unite.</p>
                  <p>H. Bibb has for some years publicly made this narrative to
assemblies, whose number cannot be told; it has commanded
public attention in this State, and provoked inquiry. Occasionally
too we see persons from the South, who knew him in early
years, yet not a word or fact worthy of impairing its truth has
reached us; but on the contrary, every thing tended to its
corroboration.</p>
                  <p>Mr. Bibb's Anti-slavery efforts in this State have produced
incalculable benefit. The Lord has blessed him into an instrument
of great power. He has labored much, and for very inadequate
compensation. Lucrative offers for other quarters did not
tempt him to a more profitable field. His sincerity and
disinterestedness are therefore beyond suspicion.</p>
                  <p>We bid him “God-speed,” on his route. We bespeak for
him every kind consideration. * * * *</p>
                  <closer><signed>H. HALLOCK,<lb/>
President of the Detroit Lib. Association.</signed>
<signed>CULLEN BROWN, <hi rend="italics">Vice-President.</hi><lb/>
S. M. HOLMES, <hi rend="italics">Secretary.</hi><lb/>
J.D. BALDWIN,<lb/>
CHARLES H. STEWART,<lb/>
MARTIN WILSON,<lb/>
WILLIAM BARNUM.</signed>
<dateline>DETROIT, Nov. 11, 1845.</dateline></closer>
                  <closer><salute>The undersigned, cheerfully concurs with Mr. Hallock and
others in their friendly recommendation of Mr. Henry Bibb
<pb id="bibbx" n="x"/>
The undersigned has known him for many months in the
Sabbath School in this City, partly under his charge, and can
Certify to his correct deportment, and commend him to the
Sympathies of Christian benevolence.</salute>
<signed>ROSS WILSON.</signed></closer>
                </div1>
              </body>
            </text>
          </q>
          <p>The task now performed, in preparing for the press and
introducing to the public the narrative of Henry Bibb, has been
one of the most pleasant ever required at my hands. And I
conclude it with an expression of the hope that it may afford
interest to the reader, support to the author in his efforts against
slavery, and be instrumental advancing the great work of
emancipation in this country.</p>
          <closer>
            <signed>LUCIUS C. MATLACK.</signed>
            <dateline>New York City, 
<date><hi>July</hi> 1st, 1849.</date></dateline>
          </closer>
        </div2>
      </div1>
      <div1 type="preface">
        <pb id="bibbxi" n="xi"/>
        <head>AUTHOR'S PREFACE.</head>
        <p>This work has been written during irregular intervals, while
I have been travelling and laboring for the emancipation of my
enslaved countrymen. The reader will remember that I make
no pretension to literature; for I can truly say, that I have
been educated in the school of adversity, whips, and chains.
Experience and observation have been my principal teachers,
with the exception of three weeks schooling which I have had
the good fortune to receive since my escape from the “grave
yard of the mind,” or the dark prison of human bondage. And
nothing but untiring perseverance has enabled me to prepare
this volume for the public eye; and I trust by the aid of Divine
Providence to be able to make it intelligible and instructive. I
thank God for the blessings of Liberty—the contrast is truly
great between freedom and slavery. To be changed from a chattel
to a human being, is no light matter, though the process with
myself practically was very simple. And if I could reach the
ears of every slave to-day, throughout the whole continent of
America, I would teach the same lesson, I would sound it in the
ears of every hereditary bondman, “break your chains and fly
for freedom!”</p>
        <p>It may be asked why I have written this work, when there
has been so much already written and published of the same
character from other fugitives? And, why publish it after
having told it publicly all through New England and the Western
States to multiplied thousands?</p>
        <p>My answer is, that in no place have I given orally the detail
of my narrative; and some of the most interesting events
of my life have never reached the public ear. Moreover, it was
<pb id="bibbxii" n="xii"/>
at the request of many friends of lowtrodden humanity, that I
have undertaken to write the following sketch, that light and
truth might be spread on the sin and evils of slavery as far as
possible. I also wanted to leave my humble testimony on record
against this man-destroying system, to be read by succeeding
generations when my body shall lie mouldering in the dust.</p>
        <p>But I would not attempt by any sophistry to misrepresent
slavery in order to prove its dreadful wickedness. For,
I presume there are none who may read this narrative through,
whether Christians or slaveholders, males or females, but what
will admit it to be a system of the most high-handed oppression
and tyranny that ever was tolerated by an enlightened nation.</p>
        <closer>
          <signed>HENRY BIBB</signed>
        </closer>
      </div1>
      <div1 type="index">
        <pb id="bibbxiii" n="xiii"/>
        <head>INDEX.</head>
        <list type="simple">
          <item>INTRODUCTION.      <ref target="bibbi" targOrder="U">1</ref></item>
          <item>AUTHOR'S PREFACE.     <ref target="bibbxi" targOrder="U">11</ref></item>
          <item>CHAP. I—Sketch of my Parentage, <ref target="bibb13" targOrder="U">13</ref>. Early separation from
my Mother, <ref target="bibb14" targOrder="U">14</ref>. Hard Fare, <ref target="bibb15" targOrder="U">15</ref>. First Experiments
at running away, <ref target="bibb16" targOrder="U">16</ref>. Earnest longing for
Freedom, <ref target="bibb17" targOrder="U">17</ref>. Abhorrent nature of Slavery, <ref target="bibb18" targOrder="U">18</ref>.</item>
          <item>CHAP. II—A fruitless effort for education, <sic corr="21"><ref target="bibb21" targOrder="U">20</ref></sic>. 
The Sabbath
among Slaves, <ref target="bibb21" targOrder="U">21</ref>. Degrading amusements, ib
Why religion is rejected, <ref target="bibb24" targOrder="U">24</ref>. Condition of poor
white people, ib. Superstition among slaves, <ref target="bibb25" targOrder="U">25</ref>
Education forbidden, <ref target="bibb31" targOrder="U">31</ref>.</item>
          <item>CHAP. III.—My Courtship and Marriage, <ref target="bibb33" targOrder="U">33</ref>. Change of owner,
<ref target="bibb42" targOrder="U">42</ref>. My first born, ib. Its sufferings, <ref target="bibb43" targOrder="U">43</ref>. My wife
abused, ib. My own anguish, <ref target="bibb44" targOrder="U">44</ref>.</item>
          <item>CHAP. IV.—My first adventure for liberty, <ref target="bibb46" targOrder="U">46</ref>. Parting Scene,
<ref target="bibb47" targOrder="U">47</ref>. Journey up the river, <ref target="bibb48" targOrder="U">48</ref>. Safe arrival in
Cincinnati, <ref target="bibb50" targOrder="U">50</ref>. Journey to Canada, <ref target="bibb51" targOrder="U">51</ref>. Suffering
from cold and hunger, <ref target="bibb52" targOrder="U">52</ref>. Denied food and shelter
by some, ib. One noble exception, <ref target="bibb54" targOrder="U">54</ref>. Subsequent
success, ib. Arrival at Perrysburgh, <ref target="bibb55" targOrder="U">55</ref>. Obtain
employment through the winter, ib. My return to
Kentucky to get my family, <ref target="bibb56" targOrder="U">56</ref>.</item>
          <item>CHAP. V.—My safe arrival at Kentucky, <ref target="bibb57" targOrder="U">57</ref>. Surprise and
delight to find my family, ib. Plan for their escape,
projected, <ref target="bibb59" targOrder="U">59</ref>. Return to Cincinnati, <ref target="bibb60" targOrder="U">60</ref>. My
betrayal by traitors, <ref target="bibb61" targOrder="U">61</ref>. Imprisonment in Covington,
Kentucky, <ref target="bibb65" targOrder="U">65</ref>. Return to slavery, <ref target="bibb66" targOrder="U">66</ref>. Infamous
proposal of the slave catchers, <ref target="bibb67" targOrder="U">67</ref>. My reply, <ref target="bibb68" targOrder="U">68</ref>.</item>
          <pb id="bibbxiv" n="xiv"/>
          <item>CHAP. VI.—Arrival at Louisville, Kentucky, <ref target="bibb72" targOrder="U">72</ref>. Efforts to sell
Me, <ref target="bibb73" targOrder="U">73</ref>. Fortunate escape from the man-stealers in
the public street, <ref target="bibb74" targOrder="U">74</ref>. I return to Bedford, Ky., <ref target="bibb77" targOrder="U">77</ref>.
The rescue of my family again attempted, <ref target="bibb79" targOrder="U">79</ref>. I
started alone expecting them to follow, <ref target="bibb80" targOrder="U">80</ref>. After
waiting some months I resolve to go back again to
Kentucky, <ref target="bibb83" targOrder="U">83</ref>.</item>
          <item>CHAP. VII.—My safe return to Kentucky, <ref target="bibb84" targOrder="U">84</ref>. The perils I
encountered there, <ref target="bibb85" targOrder="U">85</ref>. Again betrayed, and taken by
a mob, ironed and imprisoned, <ref target="bibb86" targOrder="U">86</ref>. Narrow escape
from death, <ref target="bibb90" targOrder="U">90</ref>. Life in a slave prison, <ref target="bibb91" targOrder="U">91</ref>.</item>
          <item>CHAP. VIII.—Character of my prison companions, <ref target="bibb94" targOrder="U">94</ref>. Jail
breaking contemplated, <ref target="bibb95" targOrder="U">95</ref>. Defeat of our plan, <ref target="bibb97" targOrder="U">97</ref>.
My wife and child removed, ib. Disgraceful
proposal to her, and cruel punishment, <ref target="bibb98" targOrder="U">98</ref>. Our
departure in a coffle for New Orleans, <ref target="bibb99" targOrder="U">99</ref>. Events of
our journey, ib.</item>
          <item>CHAP. IX.—Our arrival and examination at Vicksburg, <ref target="bibb101" targOrder="U">101</ref>.
An account of slave sales, <ref target="bibb103" targOrder="U">103</ref>. Cruel punishment
with the paddle, ib. Attempts to sell myself by
Garrison's direction, <ref target="bibb106" targOrder="U">106</ref>. Amusing interview with
a slave buyer, <ref target="bibb107" targOrder="U">107</ref>. Deacon Whitfield's examination,
<ref target="bibb109" targOrder="U">109</ref>. He purchases the family, <ref target="bibb110" targOrder="U">110</ref>. Character of
the Deacon, ib.</item>
          <item>CHAP. IX.—Cruel treatment on Whitfield's farm, <ref target="bibb112" targOrder="U">112</ref>. Exposure
of the children, <ref target="bibb116" targOrder="U">116</ref>. Mode of extorting extra
labor, <ref target="bibb117" targOrder="U">117</ref>. Neglect of the sick, ib. Strange medicine
used, <ref target="bibb118" targOrder="U">118</ref>. Death of our second child, ib.</item>
          <item>CHAP. XI.—I attend a prayer meeting, <ref target="bibb119" targOrder="U">119</ref>. Punishment
therefor threatened, <ref target="bibb120" targOrder="U">120</ref>. I attempt to escape alone, <ref target="bibb121" targOrder="U">121</ref>.
My return to take my family, <ref target="bibb122" targOrder="U">122</ref>. Our sufferings,
<ref target="bibb123" targOrder="U">123</ref>. Dreadful attack of wolves, <ref target="bibb124" targOrder="U">124</ref>. Our
recapture, <ref target="bibb128" targOrder="U">128</ref>.</item>
          <item>CHAP. XII.—My Sad condition before Whitfield, <ref target="bibb131" targOrder="U">131</ref>. My
terrible punishment, <ref target="bibb132" targOrder="U">132</ref>. Incidents of a former attempt
to escape, <ref target="bibb134" targOrder="U">134</ref>. Jack at a farm house, <ref target="bibb136" targOrder="U">136</ref>. Six
pigs and a turkey, <ref target="bibb138" targOrder="U">138</ref>. Our surprise and arrest, <ref target="bibb139" targOrder="U">139</ref>.</item>
          <item>CHAP. XIII.—I am sold to gamblers, <ref target="bibb143" targOrder="U">143</ref>. They try to purchase
my family, <ref target="bibb145" targOrder="U">145</ref>. Our parting scene, <ref target="bibb147" targOrder="U">147</ref>. My good
usage, <ref target="bibb149" targOrder="U">149</ref>. I am sold to an Indian, <ref target="bibb150" targOrder="U">150</ref>. His
confidence in my integrity manifested, <ref target="bibb151" targOrder="U">151</ref>.</item>
          <item>CHAP. XIV.—Character of my Indian Master, <ref target="bibb152" targOrder="U">152</ref>. Slavery
among the Indians less cruel, <ref target="bibb153" targOrder="U">153</ref>. Indian carousal,
<pb id="bibbxv" n="xv"/>
ib. Enfeebled health of my Indian Master,
<ref target="bibb154" targOrder="U">154</ref>. His death, ib. My escape, <ref target="bibb155" targOrder="U">155</ref>. Adventure
in a wigwam, <ref target="bibb156" targOrder="U">156</ref>. Successful progress toward
liberty, <ref target="bibb157" targOrder="U">157</ref>.</item>
          <item>CHAP. XV.—Adventure on the Prairie, <ref target="bibb159" targOrder="U">159</ref>. I borrow a horse
without leave, <ref target="bibb162" targOrder="U">162</ref>. Rapid traveling one whole
night, ib. Apology for using other men's horses,
<ref target="bibb163" targOrder="U">163</ref>. My manner of living on the road, <ref target="bibb164" targOrder="U">164</ref>.</item>
          <item>CHAP. XVI.—Stratagem to get on board the steamer, <ref target="bibb167" targOrder="U">167</ref>. My
Irish friends, <ref target="bibb168" targOrder="U">168</ref>. My success in reaching the
Ohio, <ref target="bibb169" targOrder="U">169</ref>. Reflections on again seeing Kentucky,
ib. I get employment in a hotel, <ref target="bibb170" targOrder="U">170</ref>. My fright
at seeing the gambler who sold me, <ref target="bibb171" targOrder="U">171</ref>. I leave
Ohio with Mr. Smith, <ref target="bibb172" targOrder="U">172</ref>. His letter, <ref target="bibb173" targOrder="U">173</ref>. My
education, <ref target="bibb174" targOrder="U">174</ref>.</item>
          <item>CHAP. XVII.—Letter from W.H. Gatewood, <ref target="bibb175" targOrder="U">175</ref>. My reply,
<ref target="bibb176" targOrder="U">176</ref>. My efforts as a public lecturer, <ref target="bibb178" targOrder="U">178</ref>. Singular
incident in Steubenville, <ref target="bibb179" targOrder="U">179</ref>. Meeting with a
friend of Whitfield in Michigan, <ref target="bibb181" targOrder="U">181</ref>. Outrage on
a canal packet, <ref target="bibb183" targOrder="U">183</ref>. Fruitless efforts to find my
wife, <ref target="bibb186" targOrder="U">186</ref>.</item>
          <item>CHAP. XVIII.—My last effort to recover my family, <ref target="bibb188" targOrder="U">188</ref>. Sad
tidings of my wife, <ref target="bibb189" targOrder="U">189</ref>. Her degradation, <ref target="bibb190" targOrder="U">190</ref>. I
am compelled to regard our relation as dissolved
for ever, ib.</item>
          <item>CHAP. XIX.—Comments on S. Gatewood's letter about slaves
stealing, <ref target="bibb193" targOrder="U">193</ref>. Their conduct vindicated, <ref target="bibb194" targOrder="U">194</ref>. Comments
on W. Gatewood's letter, <ref target="bibb196" targOrder="U">196</ref>.</item>
          <item>CHAP. XX.—Review of my narrative, <ref target="bibb198" targOrder="U">198</ref>. Licentiousness a
prop of Slavery, <ref target="bibb199" targOrder="U">199</ref>. A case of mild slavery given,
ib. Its revolting features, <ref target="bibb200" targOrder="U">200</ref>. Times of my purchase
and sale by professed Christians, <ref target="bibb203" targOrder="U">203</ref>. Concluding
remarks, <ref target="bibb204" targOrder="U">204</ref>.</item>
          <item>OPINIONS OF THE PRESS.     <sic corr="205"><ref target="bibb205" targOrder="U">250</ref></sic></item>
        </list>
      </div1>
    </front>
    <body>
      <div1 type="main body">
        <pb id="bibb13" n="13"/>
        <head>NARRATIVE
<lb/>
OF THE
<lb/>
LIFE OF HENRY BIBB.</head>
        <div2 type="chapter">
          <head>CHAPTER I.</head>
          <argument>
            <p>Sketch of my Parentage.—Early separation  from my 
Mother—Hard Fare.—First Experiments at running away.—Earnest
longing for Freedom.—Abhorrent nature of Slavery.</p>
          </argument>
          <p>I was born May 1815, of a slave mother, in
Shelby County, Kentucky, and was claimed as
the property of David White Esq. He came into
possession of my mother long before I was
born. I was brought up in the Counties of Shelby,
Henry, Oldham, and Trimble. Or, more correctly
speaking, in the above counties, I may safely
say, I was <hi rend="italics">flogged up;</hi>  for where I should have
received moral, mental, and religious instruction,
I received stripes without number, the object of
which was to degrade and keep me in subordination.
I can truly say, that I drank deeply of the
bitter cup of suffering and woe. I have been dragged 
<pb id="bibb14" n="14"/>
down to the lowest depths of human degradation
and wretchedness, by Slaveholders.</p>
          <p>My mother was known by the name of Milldred
Jackson. She is the mother of seven slaves only,
all being sons, of whom I am the eldest. She
was also so fortunate or unfortunate, as to have
some of what is called the slaveholding blood flowing
in her veins. I know not how much; but not
enough to prevent her children though fathered by
slaveholders, from being bought and sold in the slave
markets of the South. It is almost impossible for
slaves to give a correct account of their male parentage.
All that I know about it is, that my mother
informed me that my fathers name was James Bibb.
He was doubtless one of the present Bibb family of
Kentucky; but I have no personal knowledge of
him at all, for he, died before my recollection.</p>
          <p>The first time I was separated from my mother, I
was young and small. I knew nothing of my condition
then as a slave. I was living with Mr. White,
whose wife died and left him a widower with one
little girl, who was said to be the legitimate owner
of my mother, and all her children. This girl was
also my playmate when we were children.</p>
          <p>I was taken away from my mother, and hired out
to labor for various persons, eight or ten years in
succession; and all my wages were expended for
the education of Harriet White, my playmate. It
was then my sorrows and sufferings commenced.
It was then I first commenced seeing and feeling
that I was a wretched slave, compelled to work under
the lash without wages and often, without
<pb id="bibb15" n="15"/>
clothes enough to hide my nakedness. I have often
worked without half enough to eat, both late and,
early, by day and by night. I have often laid my
wearied limbs down at night to rest upon a dirt
floor, or a bench, without any covering at all, be-
cause I had no where else to rest my wearied body,
after having worked hard all the day. I have also
been compelled in early life, to go at the bidding of
a tyrant, through all kinds of weather, hot or cold,
wet or dry, and without shoes frequently, until the
month of December, with my bare feet on the cold
frosty ground, cracked open and bleeding as I walked.
Reader, believe me when I say that no tongue,
nor pen ever has or can express the horrors of
American Slavery. Consequently I despair in finding
language to express adequately the deep feeling
of my soul, as I contemplate the past history of
my life. But although I have suffered much from
the lash, and for want of food and raiment; I confess
that it was no disadvantage to be passed through,
the hands of so many families, as the only source
of information that I had to enlighten my mind,
consisted in what I could see and hear from others.
Slaves were not allowed books, pen, ink, nor paper
to improve their minds. But it seems to me now,
that I was particularly observing, and apt to retain
what came under my observation. But more especially,
all that I heard about liberty and freedom to
the slaves, I never forgot. Among other good
trades I learned the art of running away to perfection.
I made a regular business of it, and never
gave it up, until I had broken the bands of slavery,
<pb id="bibb16" n="16"/>
and landed myself safely in Canada, where I was regarded
as a man, and not as a thing.</p>
          <p>The first time in my life that I ran away, was for
ill treatment, in 1825. I was living with a Mr.
Vires, in the village of Newcastle. His wife was a
very cross woman. She was every day flogging me,
boxing, pulling my ears, and scolding, so that I
dreaded to enter the room where she was. This
first started me to running away from them. I was
often gone several days before I was caught. They
abuse me for going off, but it did no good.
The next time they flogged me, I was off again; but
after awhile they got sick of their bargain, and returned
me back into the hands of my owners. By
this time. Mr. White had married his second wife.
She was what I call a tyrant. I lived with her
several months, but she kept me almost half of my
time in the woods, running from under the bloody
lash. While I was at home she kept me all the
time rubbing furniture, washing, scrubbing the
floors; and when I was not doing this, she would
often seat herself in a large rocking chair, with
two pillows about her, and would make me rock
her, and keep off the flies. She was too lazy to
scratch her own head, and would often make me
scratch and comb it for her. She would at other
times lie on her bed, in warm weather, and make
me fan her while she slept, scratch and rub her feet;
but after awhile she got sick of me, and preferred a
maiden servant to do such business. I was then
hired out again; but by, this time I had become
much better skilled in running away, and would,
<pb id="bibb17" n="17"/>
make calculation to avoid detection, by taking with
me a bridle. If any body should see me in the
woods, as they, have, and asked “what are you
doing here sir? you are a runaway?”—I said, “no,
sir, I am looking for our old mare;” at other times,
“looking for our cows.” For such excuses I was
let pass. In fact, the only weapon of self defence
that I could use successfully, was that of deception.
It is useless for a poor helpless slave, to resist a
white man in a slaveholding State. Public opinion
and the law is against him; and resistance in many
cases is death to the slave, while the law declares,
that he shall submit or die.</p>
          <p>The circumstances in which I was then placed,
gave me a longing desire to be free. It kindled a
fire of liberty within my breast which has never
yet been quenched. This seemed to be a part of my
nature; it was first revealed to me by the inevitable
laws of nature's God. I could see that the All-wise
Creator, had made man a free, moral, intelligent and
accountable being; capable of knowing good and
evil. And I believed then, as I believe now, that
every man has a right to wages for his labor; a
right to his own wife and children; a right to liberty
and the pursuit of happiness; and a right to worship
God according to the dictates of his own conscience.
But here, in the light of these truths, I
was a slave, a prisoner for life; I could possess
nothing, nor acquire anything but what must belong
to my keeper. No one can imagine my feelings
in my reflecting moments, but he who has himself
been a slave. Oh! I have often wept over my condition, 
<pb id="bibb18" n="18"/>
while sauntering through the forest, to escape
cruel punishment.</p>
          <lg type="verse">
            <l>“No arm to protect me from tyrants aggression;</l>
            <l>No parents to cheer me when laden with grief.</l>
            <l>Man may picture the bands of the rocks and the rivers,</l>
            <l>The hills and the valleys, the lakes and the ocean,</l>
            <l>But the horrors of slavery, he never can trace.”</l>
          </lg>
          <p>The term slave to this day sounds with terror to
my soul—a word too obnoxious to speak—a system
too intolerable to be endured. I know this from
long and sad experience. I now feel as if I had
just been aroused from sleep, and, looking back with
quickened perception at the state of torment from
whence I fled. I was there held and claimed as a
slave; as such I was subjected to the will and power
of my keeper, in all respects whatsoever. That
the slave is a human being, no one can deny. It is
his lot to be exposed in common with other men,
to the calamities of sickness, death, and the misfortunes
incident to life. But unlike other men, he is
denied the consolation of struggling against external
difficulties, such as destroy the life, liberty, and
happiness of himself and family. A slave may be
bought and sold in the market like an ox. He is
be sold off to a distant land from his family.
He is bound in chains hand and foot; and his sufferings
are aggravated a hundred fold, by the terrible
thought, that he is not allowed to struggle against
misfortune, corporeal punishment, insults and outrages
committed upon himself and family; and he
is not allowed to help himself, to resist or escape
the blow, which he sees impending over him.</p>
          <pb id="bibb19" n="19"/>
          <p>This idea of utter helplessness, in perpetual bondage,
is the more distressing, as there is no period
even with the remotest generation when it shall
terminate.</p>
          <p>
            <figure id="ill1" entity="bibb19">
              <p>[Illustration]</p>
            </figure>
          </p>
        </div2>
        <div2 type="chapter">
          <pb id="bibb21" n="21"/>
          <head>CHAPTER II.</head>
          <argument>
            <p>A fruitless effort for education.—The Sabbath among Slaves.—
Degrading amusements.—Why religion is rejected.—Condition
of poor white people.—Superstition among slaves.—Education
forbidden.</p>
          </argument>
          <p>IN 1833, I had some very serious religious impressions,
and there was quite a number of slaves in
that neighborhood, who felt very desirous to be
taught to read the Bible. There was a Miss Davis,
a poor white girl, who offered to teach a Sabbath
School for the slaves, notwithstanding public opinion
and the law was opposed to it. Books were
furnished and she commenced the school; but the
news soon got to our owners that she was teaching
us to read. This caused quite an excitement in the
neighborhood. Patrols<ref id="ref1" n="1" rend="sc" target="note1" targOrder="U">*</ref><note id="note1" n="1" rend="sc" place="foot" anchored="yes" target="ref1"><p>*Police peculiar to the South.</p></note> were appointed to go and
break it up the next Sabbath. They were determined
that we should not have a Sabbath School in
operation. For slaves this was called an incendiary
Movement.</p>
          <p>The Sabbath is not regarded by a large number
of the slaves as a day of rest. They have no schools
to go to; no moral nor religious instruction at all
in many localities where there are hundreds of
<pb id="bibb22" n="22"/>
<figure id="ill2" entity="bibb22"><p><hi rend="italics">“The Sabbath among Slaves.”</hi></p></figure>
<pb id="bibb23" n="23"/>
slaves. Hence they resort to some kind of amusement.
Those who make no profession of religion,
resort to the woods in large numbers on that day
to gamble, fight, get drunk, and break the Sabbath.
This is often encouraged by slaveholders. When
they wish to have a little sport of that kind, they
go among the slaves and give them whiskey, to see
them dance, “pat juber,” sing and play on the banjo.
Then get them to wrestling, fighting, jumping,
running foot races, and butting each other like
sheep. This is urged on by giving them whiskey;
making bets on them; laying chips on one slave's
head, and daring another to tip it off with his hand;
and if he tipped it off, it be called an insult,
and cause a fight. Before fighting, the parties choose
their seconds to stand by them while fighting; a
ring or a circle is formed to fight in, and no one is
allowed to enter the ring while they are fighting, but
their seconds, and the white gentlemen. They are
not allowed to fight a duel, nor to use weapons
any kind. The blows are made by kicking, knocking,
and butting with their heads; they grab each
other by their ears, and jam their heads together
like sheep. If they are likely to hurt each other
very bad, their masters would rap them with their
walking canes, and make them stop. After fighting,
they make friends, shake hands, and take a dram
together, and there is no more of it.</p>
          <p>But this is all principally for want of moral instruction.
This is where they have no Sabbath
Schools; no one to read the Bible to them; no one
to preach the gospel who is competent to expound
<pb id="bibb24" n="24"/>
the Scriptures, except slaveholders. And the slaves,
with but few exceptions, have no confidence at all
in their preaching because they preach a pro-slavery
doctrine. They say, “Servants be obedient to your
masters;—and he that knoweth his masters will and
doeth it not, shall be beaten with many stripes—
means that God will send them to hell, if they disobey
their masters. This kind of preaching has driven
thousands into infidelity. They view themselves
as suffering unjustly under the lash, without friends,
without protection, of law or gospel, and the green
eyed monster tyranny staring them in the face.
They know that they are destined to die in that
wretched condition, unless they are delivered by
the arm of omnipotence. And they cannot believe
or trust in such a religion, as above named.</p>
          <p>The poor and loafering class of whites, are about
on a par in point of morals with the slaves at the
South. They are generally ignorant, intemperate,
licentious, and profane. They associate much with
the slaves; are often found gambling together on
the Sabbath; encouraging slaves to steal from their
owners, and sell to them, corn, wheat, sheep, chickens
or any thing of the kind which they can well conceal.
For such offences there is no law to reach
a slave but lynch law. But if both parties are
caught in the act by a white person, the slave is
punished with the lash, while the white man is
often punished with both lynch and common law.
But there is another class of poor white people in
the South, who, I think would be glad to see slavery
abolished in self defence; they despise the institution
<pb id="bibb25" n="25"/>
because it is impoverishing and degrading to
them and their children.</p>
          <p>The slave holders are generally rich, aristocratic,
overbearing; and they look with utter contempt
upon a poor laboring man, who earns his bread by
the “sweat of his brow,” whether he be moral or
immoral, honest or dishonest. No matter whether
he is white or black; if he performs manual labor
for a livelihood, he is looked upon as being inferior
to a slaveholder, and but little better off than the
slave, who toils without wages under the lash. It
is true, that the slaveholder, and non-slaveholder,
are living under the same laws in the same State.
But the one is rich, the other is poor; one is educated,
the other is uneducated; one has houses,
land and influence, the other has none. This being
the case, that class of the non-slaveholders would
be glad to see slavery abolished, but they dare not
speak it aloud.</p>
          <p>There is much superstition among the slaves.
Many of them believe in what they call “conjuration,”
tricking, and witchcraft; and some of them
pretend to understand the art, and say that by it
they can prevent their masters from exercising their
will over their slaves. Such are often applied to 
by others, to give them power to prevent their masters
from flogging them. The remedy is most generally
some kind of bitter root; they are directed
to chew it and spit towards their masters when they
are angry with their slaves. At other times they
prepare certain kinds of powders, to sprinkle about
their masters dwellings. This is all done for the
<pb id="bibb26" n="26"/>
purpose of defending themselves in some Peaceable
manner, although I am satisfied that there is no
virtue at all in it. I have tried it to perfection
when I was a slave at the South. I was then a
young man, full of life and vigor, and was very
fond of visiting our neighbors slaves, but had no
time to visit only Sundays, when I could get a permit
to go, or after night, when I could slip off without
being seen. If it was found out, the next morning
I was called up to give an account of myself for
going off without permission; and would very often
get a flogging for it.</p>
          <p>I got myself into a scrape at a certain times, by
going off in this way, and I expected to be severely
punished for it. I had a strong notion of running
off, to escape being flogged, but was advised by a
friend to go to one of those conjurers, who could
prevent me from being flogged. I went and informed
him of the difficulty. He said if I would pay
him a small sum, he would prevent my being flogged.
After I had paid him, he mixed up some alum, salt
and other stuff into a powder, and said I must
sprinkle it about my master, if he should offer to
strike me; this would prevent him. He also gave
me some kind of bitter root to chew, and spit
towards him, which would certainly prevent my
being flogged. According to order I used his remedy,
and for some cause I was let pass without
being flogged that time.</p>
          <p>I had then great faith in conjuration and witchcraft,
I was led to believe that I could do almost
as, I pleased, without being flogged. So on the
<pb id="bibb27" n="27"/>
next Sabbath my conjuration was fully tested by
my going off, and staying away until Monday morning,
without permission. When I returned home,
my master declared that he would punish me for
going off; but I did not believe that he could do it,
while I had this root and dust; and as he approached
me, I commenced talking saucy to him. But he
soon convinced me that there was no virtue in them.
He soon became so enraged at me for saucing him, that
he grasped a handful of switches and punished me
severely, in spite of all my roots and powders.</p>
          <p>But there was another old slave in that neighborhood,
who professed to understand all about conjuration,
and I thought I would try his skill. He            
told me that the first one was only a quack, and if
I would only pay him a certain amount in cash,
that he would tell me how to prevent any person
from striking me. After I had paid him his charge,
he told me to go to the cow-pen after night, and get
some fresh cow manure, and mix it with red pepper
and white people's hair, all to be put into a pot
over the fire, and scorched until it could be ground
into snuff. I was then to sprinkle it about my master's
bedroom, in his hat and boots, and it would prevent
him from ever abusing me in any way. After I
got it all ready prepared, the smallest pinch of if scattered
over a room, was enough to make a horse
sneeze from the strength of it; but it did no good.
I tried it to my satisfaction. It was my business to
make fires in my master's chamber, night and morning.
Whenever I could get a chance, I sprinkled a
Little of this dust about the linen of the bed, where
<pb id="bibb28" n="28"/>
they would breathe it on retiring. This was to
act upon them as what is called a kind of love
powder, to change their sentiments of anger, to
those of love, towards me, but this all proved to be
vain imagination. The old man had my money,
and I was treated no better for it.</p>
          <p>One night when I went in to make a fire, I availed
myself of the opportunity of sprinkling a very
heavy charge of this powder about my master's bed.
Soon after their going to bed, they began to cough
and sneeze. Being close around the house, watching
and listening, to know what the effect would
be, I heard them ask each other what in the world
it could be, that made them cough and sneeze so.
All the while, I was trembling with fear, expecting
every moment I should be called and asked if I
knew any thing about it. After this, for fear they
might find me out in my dangerous experiments
upon them, I had to give them up, for the time
being. I was then convinced that running away
was the most effectual way by which a slave could
escape cruel punishment.</p>
          <p>As all the instrumentalities which I as a slave,
could bring to bear upon the system, had utterly
failed to palliate my sufferings, all hope and consolation
fled. I must be a slave for life, and suffer
under the lash or die. The influence which this
had only tended to make me more unhappy. I resolved
that I would be free if running away could
make me so. I had heard that Canada was a land
of liberty, somewhere in the North; and every wave
of trouble that rolled across my breast, caused me
<pb id="bibb29" n="29"/>
to think more and more about Canada, and liberty.
But more especially after having been flogged, I
have fled to the highest hills of the forest, pressing
my way to the North for refuge; but the river Ohio
was my limit. To me it was an impassable gulf.
I had no rod wherewith to smite the stream, and
thereby divide the waters. I had no Moses to go
before me and lead the way from bondage to a promised
land. Yet I was in a far worse state than
Egyptian bondage; for they had houses and land;
I had none; they had oxen and sheep; I had none;
they had a wise counsel, to tell them what to
do, and where to go, and even to go with them;
I had none. I was surrounded by opposition on
every hand. My friends were few and far between.
I have often felt when running away as if
I had scarcely a friend on earth.</p>
          <p>Sometimes standing on the Ohio River bluff,
looking over on a free State, and as far north as
my eyes could see, I have eagerly gazed upon
the blue sky of the free North, which at times
constrained me to cry out from the depths of
my soul, Oh! Canada, sweet land of rest—Oh!
when shall I get there? Oh, that I had the wings
of a dove, that I might soar away to where there
is no slavery; no clanking of chains, no captives,
no lacerating of backs, no parting of husbands
and wives; and where man ceases to be the
property of his fellow man. These thoughts have
revolved in my mind a thousand times. I have
stood upon the lofty banks of the river Ohio, gazing
upon the splendid steamboats, wafted with all their
<pb id="bibb30" n="30"/>
magnificence up and down the river, and I thought
of the fishes of the water, the fowls of the air, the
wild beasts of the forest, all appeared to be free, to
go just where they pleased, and I was an unhappy
slave!</p>
          <p>But my attention was gradually turned in a
measure from this subject, by being introduced into
the society of young women. This for the time
being took my attention from running away, as
waiting on the girls appeared to be perfectly congenial
to my nature. I wanted to be well thought
of by them, and would go to great lengths to gain
their affection. I had been taught by the old superstitious
slaves, to believe in conjuration, and it was
hard for me to give up the notion, for all I had been
deceived by them. One of these conjurers, for a
small sum agreed to teach me to make any girl love
me that I wished. After I had paid him, he told me
to get a bull frog, and take a certain bone out of the
frog, dry it, and when I got a chance I must step
up to any girl whom I wished to make love me, and
scratch her somewhere on her naked skin with this
bone, and she would be certain to love me and
would follow me in spite of herself; no matter who
she might be engaged to, nor who she might be walking
with.</p>
          <p>So I got me a bone for a certain girl, whom I
knew to be under the influence of another young
man. I happened to meet her in the company of her
lover, one Sunday, evening, walking out; so when I
got a chance, I fetched her a tremendous rasp across
the neck with this bone, which made her jump. But
<pb id="bibb31" n="31"/>
in place of making her love me, it only made her
angry with me. She felt more like running after
me to retaliate on me for thus abusing her, than she
felt like loving me. After I found there was no virtue
in the bone of a frog, I thought I would try some
other way to carry out my object. I then sought
another counsellor among the old superstitious influential
slaves; one who professed to be a great
friend of mine, told me to get a lock of hair from the
head of any girl, and wear it in my shoes: this
would cause her to love me above all other persons.
As there was another girl whose affections I was
anxious to gain, but could not succeed, I thought
without trying the experiment of this hair. I slipped
off one night to see the girl, and asked her for a
lock of her hair; but she refused to give it. Believing
that my success depended greatly upon this
bunch of hair, I was bent on having a look before I
left that night let it cost what it might. As it was
time for me to start home in order to get any sleep
that night, I grasped hold of a lock of her hair,
which caused her to screech, but I never let go until
I had pulled it out. This of course made the girl
mad with me, and I accomplished nothing but gained
her displeasure.</p>
          <p>Such are the superstitious notions of the great
masses of southern slaves. It is given to them by
tradition, and can never be erased, while the doors of
education are bolted and barred against them. But
there is a prohibition by law, of mental and
religious instruction. The state of Georgia, by an act of
1770, declared “that it shall not be lawful for any
<pb id="bibb32" n="32"/>
number of free negroes, molattoes or mestinos, or even
slaves in company with white persons, to meet together
for the purpose of mental instruction, either
before the rising of the sun or after the going down
of the same.” 2d Brevard's Digest, 254-5. Similar
laws exist in most of the slave States, and patrols
are sent out after night and on the Sabbath day to
enforce them. They go through their respective
towns to prevent slaves from meeting for religious
worship or mental instruction.</p>
          <p>This is the regulation and law of American
Slavery, as sanctioned by the Government of the
United States, and without which it could not exist.
And almost the whole moral, political, and religious
power of the nation are in favor of slavery, and aggression
against liberty and justice. I only
judge by their actions, which speak louder than
words. Slaveholders are put into the highest offices
in the gift of the people in both Church and State,
thereby making slaveholding popular and reputable.</p>
        </div2>
        <div2 type="chapter">
          <pb id="bibb33" n="33"/>
          <head>CHAPTER III.</head>
          <argument>
            <p>My Courtship and Marriage—Change of owner.—My first born.
—Its sufferings.—My wife abused.—My own anguish.</p>
          </argument>
          <p>The circumstances of my courtship and marriage,
I consider to be among the most remarkable events
of my life while a slave. To think that after I had
determined to carry out the great idea which is so
universally and practically acknowledged among
all the civilized nations of the earth, that I would
be free or die, I suffered myself to be turned aside
by the fascinating charms of a female, who gradually
won my attention from an object so high as that of
liberty; and an object which I held paramount to
all others.</p>
          <p>But when I had arrived at the age of eighteen, which
was in the year of 1833, it was my lot to be introduced
to the favor of a mulatto slave girl named
Malinda, who lived in Oldham County, Kentucky,
about four miles from the residence of my owner.
Malinda was a medium sized girl, graceful in her
walk, of an extraordinary make, and active in business.
Her shin was of a smooth texture, red
cheeks, with dark and penetrating eyes. She moved
in the highest circle<ref id="ref2" n="2" rend="sc" target="note2" targOrder="U">*</ref><note id="note2" n="2" rend="sc" place="foot" anchored="yes" target="ref2"><p>* The distinction among slaves is as marked, as the classes of
society are in any aristocratic community. Some refusing to
associate with others whom they deem to be beneath them, in point of
character, color, condition, or the superior importance of their
respective masters.</p></note> of slaves, and free people of
<pb id="bibb34" n="34"/>
color.  She was also one of the best singers I ever heard,
and was much esteemed by all who knew her, for her benevolence,
talent and industry.  In fact, I considered Malinda to be equalled
by few, and surpassed by none, for the above qualities, all things
considered.</p>
          <p>It is truly marvellous to see how sudden a man's mind
can be changed by the charms and influence of a female.
The first two or three visits that I paid this dear girl, I had no intention
of courting or marrying her, for I was aware that such a step would 
greatly obstruct my way to the land of liberty. I only visited Malinda
because I liked her company, as a highly interesting girl. But in spite
of myself, before I was aware of it, I was deeply in love; and what 
made this passion so effectual and almost irresistable, I became
satisfied that it was reciprocal. There was a union of feeling, and
every visit made the impression stronger and stronger. One or two
other young men were paying attention to Malinda, at the same
time; one of whom her mother was anxious to have her marry.
This of course gave me a fair opportunity of testing Malinda's 
sincerity. I had just about opposition enough to make the subject
interesting. That Malinda loved me above all others on earth,
no one could deny. I could read it by the warm reception with
which the dear girl always met me, and treated me in her mother's house.
I could read it by the warm and affectionate shake of the hand,
and gentle smile upon her lovely cheek. I could read it by her 
always giving me the preference of her company; by her 
pressing invitations to visit
<pb id="bibb35" n="35"/>
even in opposition to her mother's will. I could
read it in the language of her bright and sparkling eye,
penciled by the <sic corr="unchangeable">unchangable</sic> finger of nature, that
spake but could not lie. These strong temptations
gradually diverted my attention from my actual
condition and from liberty, though not entirely.</p>
          <p>But oh! that I had only then been enabled to have
seen as I do now, or to have read the following slave
code, which is but a stereotyped law of American
slavery. It would have saved me I think from having
to, lament that I was a husband and am the
father of slaves who are still left to linger out their
days in hopeless bondage. The laws of Kentucky,
my native State, with Maryland and Virginia, which
are said to be the mildest slave States in the Union,
noted for their humanity, Christianity and democracy,
declare that “Any slave, for rambling in the
night, or riding horseback without leave, or running
away, may be punished by whipping, cropping, and
branding in the cheek, or otherwise, not rendering,
him unfit for labor.” “Any slave convicted of
petty larceny, murder, or wilfully burning of dwelling
houses, may be sentenced to have his right hand cut
off; to be hanged in the usual manner, or the head
severed from the body, the body divided into four
quarters, and head and quarters stuck up in the
most public place in the county, where such act
was committed.”</p>
          <p>At the time I joined my wife in holy wedlock, I
was ignorant of these ungodly laws; I knew not
that I was <sic corr="propagating">propogating</sic> victims for this kind of torture
and cruelty. Malinda's mother was free, and
<pb id="bibb36" n="36"/>
lived in Bedford, about a quarter of a mile from her
daughter; and we often met and passed off the time
pleasantly. Agreeable to promise, on one Saturday
evening, I called to see Malinda, at her mother's
residence, with an intention of letting her know my
mind upon the subject of marriage. It was a very
bright moonlight night; the dear girl was standing
in the door, anxiously waiting my arrival. As I
approached the door she caught my hand with an
affectionate smile, and bid me welcome to her
mother's fireside. After having broached the subject
of marriage, I informed her of the difficulties
which I conceived to be in the way of our marriage;
and that I could never engage myself to marry any
girl only on certain conditions; near as I can recollect
the substance of our conversation upon the
subject, it was, that I was religiously inclined; that
I intended to try to comply with the requisitions of
the gospel, both theoretically and practically through
life. Also that I was decided on becoming a free
man before I died; and that I expected to get free
by running away, and going to Canada, under the
British Government. Agreement on those two cardinal
questions I made my test for marriage.</p>
          <p>I said, “I never will give my heart nor hand to
any girl in marriage, until I first know her sentiments
upon all important subjects of Religion
and Liberty. No matter how well I might love her,
nor how great the sacrifice in carrying out these
God-given principles. And I here pledge myself,
from this course never to be shaken while a single
pulsation of my heart shall continue to throb for
<pb id="bibb37" n="37"/>
Liberty.” With this idea Malinda appeared to be
well pleased, and with a smile she looked me in the
face and said, “I have long entertained the same
views, and this has been one of the greatest reasons
why I have not felt inclined to enter the married
state while a slave; I have always felt a desire to
be free; I have long cherished a hope that I should
yet be free, either by purchase or running away.
In regard to the subject of Religion, I have always
felt that it was a good thing, and something that I
would seek for at some future period.” After I
found that Malinda was right upon these all important
questions, and that she truly loved me well
enough to make me an affectionate wife, I made proposals
for marriage. She very modestly declined
answering the question then, considering it to be
one of a grave character, and upon which our future
destiny greatly depended. And notwithstanding she
confessed that I had her entire affections, she must
have some time to consider the matter. To this I
of course consented, and was to meet her on the
next Saturday night to decide the question. But
for some cause I failed to come, and the next week
she sent for me, and on the Sunday evening following
I called on her again; she welcomed me with all
the kindness of an affectionate lover, and seated me
by her side. We soon broached the old subject of
marriage, and entered upon a conditional contract
of matrimony, viz: that we would marry if our
minds should not change within one year; that after
marriage we would change our former course and
live a pious life; and that we would embrace the
<pb id="bibb38" n="38"/>
earliest opportunity of running away to Canada for
our liberty. Clasping each other by the hand, pledging
our sacred honor that we would be true, we
called on high heaven to witness the rectitude of our
purpose. There was nothing that could be more
binding upon us as slaves than this; for marriage
among American slaves, is disregarded by the laws
of this country. It is counted a mere temporary
matter; it is a union which may be continued or
broken off with or without the consent of a slaveholder,
whether he is a priest or a libertine.</p>
          <p>There is no legal marriage among the slaves of
the South; I never saw nor heard of such a thing
in my life, and I have been through seven of the
slave states. A slave marrying according to law, is
a thing unknown in the history of American Slavery.
And be it known to the disgrace of our country that
every slaveholder, who is the keeper of a number of
slaves of both sexes, is also the keeper of a house
or houses of ill-fame. Licentious white men, can
and do, enter at night or day the lodging places of
slaves; break up the bonds of affection in families;
destroy all their domestic and social union for life;
and the laws of the country afford them no protection.
Will any man count, if they can be counted,
the churches of Maryland, Kentucky, and Virginia,
which have slaves connected with them, living in an
open state of adultery, never having been married
according to the laws of the State, and yet regular
members of these various denominations, but more
especially the Baptist and Methodist churches? And
<pb id="bibb39" n="39"/>
I hazard nothing in saying that this state of things
exists to a very wide extent in the above states.
I am happy to state that many fugitive slaves,
who have been enabled by the aid of an over-ruling
providence to escape to the free North with those
whom they claim as their wives, notwithstanding all
their ignorance and superstition, are not at all disposed
to live together like brutes, as they have been
compelled to do in slaveholding Churches. But as
soon as they got free from slavery they go before
some anti-slavery clergyman, and have the solemn
ceremony of marriage performed according to the
laws of the country. And if they profess religion,
and have been baptized by a slaveholding minister,
they repudiate it after becoming free, and are re-baptized
by a man who is worthy of doing it according
to the gospel rule.</p>
          <p>The time and place of my marriage, I consider
one of the most trying of my life. I was opposed
by friends and foes; my mother opposed me because
she thought I was too young, and marrying she
thought would involve me in trouble and difficulty.
My mother-in-law opposed me, because she wanted
her daughter to marry a slave who belonged to a
very rich man living near by, and who was well
known to be the son of his master. She thought
no doubt that his master or father might chance to
set him free before he died, which would enable him
to do a better part by her daughter than I could!
And there was no prospect then, of my ever being
free. But his master has neither died nor yet set
his son free, who is now about forty years of age,
<pb id="bibb40" n="40"/>
toiling under the lash, waiting and hoping that his
master may die and will him to be free.</p>
          <p>The young men were opposed to our marriage for
the same reason that Paddy opposed a match when
the clergyman was about to pronounce the marriage
ceremony of a young couple. He said “if there be
any present who have any objections to this
couple being joined together in holy wedlock, let
them speak now, or hold their peace henceforth.”
At this time Paddy sprang to his feet and said, “Sir,
I object to this.” Every eye was fixed upon him.
“What is your objection?” said the clergyman.
“Faith,” replied Paddy, “Sir I want her myself.”</p>
          <p>The man to whom I belonged was opposed, because
he feared my taking off from his farm some of
the fruits of my own labor for Malinda to eat, in
the shape of pigs, chickens, or turkeys, and would
count it not robbery. So we formed a resolution,
that if we were prevented from joining in wedlock,
that we would run away, and strike for Canada,
let the consequences be what they might. But we
had one consolation; Malinda's master was very
much in favor of the match, but entirely upon selfish
principles. When I went to ask his permission
to marry Malinda, his answer was in the affirmative
with but one condition, which I consider to be
too vulgar to be written in this book. Our marriage
took place one night during the Christmas
holydays; at which time, we had quite a festival
given us. All appeared to be wide awake, and we
had quite a jolly, time at my wedding party. And
notwithstanding our marriage was without license
<pb id="bibb41" n="41"/>
or sanction of law, we believed it to be honorable
before God, and the bed undefiled. Our christmas
holydays were spent in matrimonial visiting among
our friends, while it should have been spent in running
away to Canada, for our liberty. But freedom
was little thought of by us, for several months after
marriage. I often look back to that period even
now as one of the most happy seasons of my life;
notwithstanding all the contaminating and heartrending
features with which the horrid system of
slavery is marked, and must carry with it to its
final grave, yet I still look back to that season with
sweet remembrance and pleasure, that yet hath
power to charm and drive back dull cares which
have been accumulated by a thousand painful recollections
of slavery. Malinda was to me an affectionate wife. 
She was with me in the darkest hours
of adversity. She was with me in sorrow, and joy,
in fasting and feasting, in trial and persecution, in
sickness and health, in sunshine and in shade.</p>
          <p>Some mouths after our marriage, the unfeeling master to
whom I belonged, sold his farm with the
view of moving his slaves to the State of Missouri,
regardless of the separation of husbands and wives forever;
but for fear of my resuming my old practice of running
away, if he should have forced me to leave my wife, by my
repeated requests, he was constrained to sell me to his
brother, who lived within seven miles of Win. Gatewood, who then
held Malinda as his property. I was permitted to
visit her only on Saturday nights, after my work was
done, and I had to be at home before sunrise on
<pb id="bibb42" n="42"/>
Monday mornings or take a flogging. He proved to 
be so oppressive, and so unreasonable in punishing 
his victims, that I soon found that I should have to 
run away in self-defence. But be soon began to take the 
hint, and sold me to Wm. Gatewood the owner of Malinda.
With my new residence I confess that I was much dissatisfied. Not that
Gatewood was a more cruel master than my former owner—
not that I was opposed to living with Malinda, who was then
the centre and object of my affections—but to live where I
must be eye witness to her insults, scourgings and
abuses, such as are common to be inflicted upon slaves, was
more than I could bear. If my wife must be exposed to the
insults and licentious passions of wicked slave-drivers and
overseers; if she must bear the stripes of the lash laid on by
an unmerciful tyrant; if this is to be done with impunity,
which is frequently done by slaveholders and their abettors,
Heaven forbid that I should be compelled to witness the
sight.</p>
          <p>Not many months after I took up my residence on Wm.
Gatewood's plantation, Malinda made me a father. The
dear little daughter was called Mary Frances. She was
nurtured and caressed by her mother and father, until she
was large enough to creep over the floor
after her parents, and climb up by a chair before I felt it to
be my duty to leave my family and go into a foreign country
for a season. Malinda's business was to labor out in the field 
the greater part of her time, and there was no one take care of poor
little Frances, while her mother
<pb id="bibb43" n="43"/>
was toiling in the field. She was left at the house to creep
under the feet of an unmerciful old mistress, whom I have
known to slap with her hand the face
of little Frances, for crying after her mother, until
her little face was left black and blue. I recollect
that Malinda and myself came from the field one
summer's day at noon, and poor little Frances came
creeping to her mother smiling, but with large tear 
drops standing in her dear little eyes, sobbing and
trying to tell her mother that she had been abused,
but was not able to utter a word. Her little face
was bruised black with the whole print of Mrs.
Gatewood's hand. This print was plainly to be
seen for eight days after it was done. But oh! this
darling child was a slave; born of a slave mother.
Who can imagine what could be the feelings of a
father and mother, when looking upon their infant
child whipped and tortured with impunity, and
they placed in a situation where they could afford it
no protection. But we were all claimed and held
as property; the father and mother were slaves!</p>
          <p>On this same plantation I was compelled to stand and
see my wife shamefully scourged and abused by her
master; and the manner in which this was done,
was so violently and inhumanly committed upon the
person of a female, that I despair in finding decent
language to describe the bloody act of cruelty. My
happiness or pleasure was then all blasted; for it was
sometimes a pleasure to be with my little family even in
slavery. I loved them as my wife
and child. Little Frances was a pretty child; she
was quiet, playful, bright, and interesting. She
<pb id="bibb44" n="44"/>
had a keen black eye, and the very image of her
mother was stamped upon her cheek; but I could
never look upon the dear child without being filled
with sorrow and fearful apprehensions, of being
separated by slaveholders, because she was a slave,
regarded as property. And unfortunately for me, I
am the father of a slave, a word too obnoxious to
be spoken by a fugitive slave. It calls fresh to my
mind the separation of husband and wife; of stripping
tying up and flogging; of tearing children
from their parents, an selling them on the auction
block. It calls to mind female virtue trampled under foot 
with impunity. But oh! When I remember
that my daughter, my only child, is still there,
destined to share the fate of all these calamities, it
is too much to bear. If ever there was any one act
of my life while a slave, that I have to lament over,
it is that of being a father and a husband of slaves. I    
I have the satisfaction of knowing that I am only
the father of one slave. She is bone of my bone,
and flesh of my flesh; poor unfortunate child. She
was the first and shall be the last slave  that ever I
will father, for chains and slavery on this earth.</p>
          <pb id="bibb45" n="45"/>
          <p>
            <figure id="ill3" entity="bibb45">
              <p>
                <hi rend="italics">Can a mother forget her suckling child?</hi>
              </p>
              <p>
                <hi rend="italics">The tender mercies of the wicked are cruel.</hi>
              </p>
            </figure>
          </p>
        </div2>
        <div2 type="chapter">
          <pb id="bibb46" n="46"/>
          <head>CHAPTER IV.</head>
          <argument>
            <p>My first adventure for liberty.—Parting scene—Journey up the
river.—Safe arrival in Cincinnati.—Journey to Canada.—Suffering 
from cold and hunger.—Denied food and shelter by
some.—One noble exception.—Subsequent success.—Arrival
at Perrysburgh.—I obtained employment through the winter.
—My return to  Kentucky to get my family.</p>
          </argument>
          <p>In the fall or winter of 1837 I formed a resolution
that I would escape, if possible, to Canada, for my
Liberty. I commenced from that hour making preparations
for the dangerous experiment of breaking
the chains that bound me as a slave. My preparation for this 
voyage consisted in the accumulation
of a little money, perhaps not exceeding two dollars
and fifty cents, and a suit which I had never been
seen or known to wear before; this last was to
avoid detection.</p>
          <p>On the twenty-fifth of December, 1837, my long
anticipated time had arrived when I was to put into
operation my former resolution, which was to bolt
for Liberty or consent to die a Slave. I acted upon 
the former, although I confess it to be one of the
most self-denying acts of my whole life, to take
leave of an affectionate wife, who stood before
me on my departure with dear little Frances in her
arms, and with tears of sorrow  in her eyes as she
bid me a long farewell. It required all the moral                      
courage that I was master of to suppress my feeling
while taking leave of my little family. </p>
          <pb id="bibb47" n="47"/>
          <p>Had Malinda known my intention at that time, it would
not have been possible for me to have got away, and I might
have this day been a slave. Notwithstanding every
inducement was held out to me to run away if I would be
free, and the voice of liberty was thundering in my very soul,
“Be free, oh, man! be free,” I was struggling against a thousand
obstacles which had clustered around my mind to bind
my wounded spirit still in the dark prison of mental
degradation. My strong attachments to friends and relatives,
with all the love of home and birth-place which is so natural
among the human family, twined about my heart and were
hard to break away from. And withal, the fear of being
pursued with guns and blood-hounds, and of being killed, or
captured and taken to the extreme South, to linger out my
days in hopeless bondage on some cotton or sugar
plantation, all combined to deter me. But I had counted the
cost, and was fully prepared to make the sacrifice. The time
for fulfilling my pledge was then at hand. I must forsake
friends and neighbors, wife and child, or consent to live and
die a slave.</p>
          <p>By the permission of my keeper, I started out to work
for myself on Christmas. I went to the Ohio River, which
was but a short distance from Bedford. My excuse for
wanting to go there was to get work. High wages were
offered for hands to work in a slaughter-house. But in place
of my going to work there, according  to promise, when I
arrived at the river I managed to find a conveyance to cross
over into a free state. I was landed in the village of
<pb id="bibb48" n="48"/>
Madison, Indiana, where steamboats were landing every
day and night, passing up and down the river, which
afforded me a good opportunity of getting a boat passage
to Cincinnati. My anticipation being worked up to the
highest pitch, no sooner was the curtain of night dropped
over the village, than I secreted myself where no one could
see me, and changed my suit ready for the passage. Soon I
heard the welcome sound of a Steamboat coming up the
river Ohio, which was soon to waft me beyond the limits
of the human slave markets of Kentucky. When the boat
had landed at Madison, notwithstanding my strong desire
to get off, my heart trembled within me in view of the great
danger to which I was exposed in taking passage on board
of a Southern Steamboat; hence before I took passage, I
kneeled down before the Great I Am, and prayed for his aid
and protection, which He bountifully bestowed even
beyond my expectation; for I felt myself to be unworthy.
I then stept boldly on the deck of this splendid swift-running
Steamer, bound for the city of Cincinnati. This
being the first voyage, that I had ever taken on board of a
Steamboat, I was filled with fear and excitement, knowing
that I was surrounded by the vilest enemies of God and
man, liable to be seized and bound hand and foot by any
white man, and taken back into captivity. But I crowded
myself back from the light among the deck passengers,
where it would be difficult to distinguish me from a white
man. Every time during the night that the mate came round
with a light after the hands, I was afraid he would
<pb id="bibb49" n="49"/>
see I was a colored man, and take me up; hence I
kept from the light as much as possible. Some,
men love darkness rather than light, because their
deeds are evil; but this was not the case with myself;
it was to avoid detection in doing right.
This was one of the instances of my adventures that
my affinity with the Anglo-Saxon race, and even
slaveholders, worked well for my escape. But no
thanks to them for it. While in their midst they
have not only robbed me of my labor and liberty,
but they have almost entirely robbed me of my dark
complexion. Being so near the color of a slaveholder,
they could not, or did not find me out that
night among the white passengers. There was one
of the deck hands on board called out on his watch,
whose hammock was swinging up near by me. I
asked him if he would let me lie in it. He said if
I would pay him twenty-five cents that I might lie
in it until day. I readily paid him the price and
got into the hammock. No one could see my face
to know whether I was white or colored, while I
was in the hammock; but I never closed eyes
for sleep that night. I had often heard explosions
on board of Steamboats; and every time the
boat landed, and blowed off steam, I was afraid the
boilers had bursted and we should all be killed; but
I lived through the night amid the many dangers to
which I was exposed. I still maintained my position
in the hammock, until the next morning about
8 o'clock, when I heard the passengers saying the
boat was near Cincinnati; and by this time I supposed
that the attention of the people would be
<pb id="bibb50" n="50"/>
turned to the city, and I might pass off unnoticed.</p>
          <p>There were no questions asked me while on board 
the boat. The boat landed about 9 o'clock in the morning in
Cincinnati, and I waited until after most of the
passengers had gone off of the boat; I then walked as
gracefully up street as if I was not
running away, until I had got pretty well up Broadway.
My object was to go to Canada, but having no knowledge
of the road, it was necessary for me to make some inquiry
before I left the city. I was afraid to ask a white person,
and I could see no colored person to ask. But fortunately
for me I found a company of little boys at play in the
street, and through these little boys, by asking them
indirect questions, I found the residence of a colored man.</p>
          <p>“Boys, can you tell me where that old colored man lives
who saws wood, and works at jobs around the streets?”</p>
          <p>“What is his name?” said one of the boys,</p>
          <p>“I forget.”</p>
          <p>“Is it old Job Dundy?”</p>
          <p>“Is Dundy a colored man?”</p>
          <p>“Yes, sir.”</p>
          <p>“That is the very man I am looking for; will
you show me, where he lives?”</p>
          <p>“Yes,” said the little boy, and pointed me out
the house.</p>
          <p>Mr. D. invited me in, and I found him to be a true
friend. He asked me if I was a slave from Kentucky,
and if I ever intended to go back into slavery? Not
knowing yet whether he was truly in favor of slaves
running away, I told him that I had just come over to
<pb id="bibb51" n="51"/>
spend my christmas holydays, and that I was going
back. His reply was, “my son, I would never go
back if I was in your place; you have a right to
your liberty.’ I then asked him how I should get
my freedom? He referred me to Canada, over
which waved freedom's flag, defended by the British
Government, upon whose soil there cannot be the
foot print of a slave.</p>
          <p>He then commenced telling me of the facilities
for my escape to Canada; of the Abolitionists; of
the Abolition Societies, and of their fidelity to the
cause of suffering humanity. This was the first
time in my life that ever I had heard of such people
being in existence as the Abolitionists. I supposed
that they were a different race of people. He conducted
me to the house of one of these warm-hearted
friends of God and the slave. I found him willing
to aid a poor fugitive on his way to Canada, even
to the dividing of the last cent, or morsel of bread
if necessary.</p>
          <p>These kind friends gave me something to eat, and
started me on my way to Canada, with a recommendation
to a friend on my way. This was the
commencement of what was called the under ground
rail road to Canada. I walked with bold courage,
trusting in the arm of Omnipotence; guided by the
<sic corr="unchangeable">unchangable</sic> North Star by night, and inspired by
an elevated thought that I was fleeing from a land
of slavery and oppression, bidding farewell to hand-cuffs,
whips, thumb-screws and chains.</p>
          <p>I travelled on until I had arrived at the place
<pb id="bibb52" n="52"/>
where I was directed to call on an Abolitionist, but
I made no stop: so great were my fears of being
pursued by the pro-slavery hunting dogs of the
South. I prosecuted my journey vigorously for
nearly forty-eight hours without food or rest, struggling
against external difficulties such as no one can
imagine who has never experienced the same: not
knowing what moment I might be captured while
travelling among strangers, through cold and fear,
breasting the north winds, being thinly clad, pelted
by the snow storms through the dark hours of the
night, and not a house in which I could enter to
shelter me from the storm.</p>
          <p>The second night from Cincinnati, about midnight,
I thought that I should freeze; my shoes were worn
through, and my feet were exposed to the bare
ground. I approached a house on the road-side,
knocked at the door, and asked admission to their
fire, but was refused. I went to the next house,
and was refused the privilege of their fire-side, to
prevent my freezing. This I thought was hard
treatment among the human family. But—
<q direct="unspecified">“Behind a frowning Providence there was a smiling face,”</q>
which soon shed beams of light upon unworthy me.</p>
          <p>The next morning I was still found struggling on
my way, faint, hungry, lame, and rest-broken. I
could see people taking breakfast from the road-side,
but I did not dare to enter their houses to get
my breakfast, for neither love nor money. In passing
a low cottage, I saw the breakfast table spread
with all its bounties, and I could see no male person
<pb id="bibb53" n="53"/>
<figure id="ill4" entity="bibb53"><p><hi rend="italics">“Never mind the money.”</hi></p></figure>
<pb id="bibb54" n="54"/>
about the house; the temptation for food was greater
than I could resist.</p>
          <p>I saw a lady about the table, and I thought that
if she was ever so much disposed to take me up,
that she would have to catch and hold me, and that
would have been impossible. I stepped up to the
door with my hat off, and asked her if she would
be good enough to sell me a sixpence worth of bread
and meat. She cut off a piece and brought it to
me; I thanked her for it, and handed her the pay,
but instead of receiving it, she burst into tears,
and said “never mind the money,” but gently turned
away bidding me go on my journey. This was
altogether unexpected to me: I had found a friend
in the time of need among strangers, and nothing
could be more cheering in the day of trouble than
this. When I left that place I started with bolder
courage. The next night I put up at a tavern, and
continued stopping at public houses until my means
were about gone. When I got to the Black Swamp
in the county of Wood, Ohio, I stopped one night
at a hotel, after travelling all day through mud and
snow; but I soon found that I should not be able to
pay my bill. This was about the time that the
“wild-cat banks” were in a flourishing state, and
“shin plasters”<ref id="ref3" n="3" rend="sc" target="note3" targOrder="U">*</ref><note id="note3" n="3" rend="sc" place="foot" anchored="yes" target="ref3"><p>*Nick-name for temporary paper money. </p></note> in abundance; they would charge
a dollar for one night's lodging.</p>
          <p>After I had found out this, I slipped out of the
bar room into the kitchen where the landlady was
getting supper; as she had quite a number of travellers
<pb id="bibb55" n="55"/>
to cook for that night, I told her if she would
accept my services, I would assist her in getting
supper; that I was a cook. She very readily accepted
the offer, and I went to work.</p>
          <p>She was very much pleased with my work, and
the next morning I helped her to get breakfast. She
then wanted to hire me for all winter, but I refused
for fear I might be pursued. My excuse to her was
that I had a brother living in Detroit, whom I was
going to see on some important business, and after
I got that business attended to I would come back
and work for them all winter.</p>
          <p>When I started the second morning they paid me
fifty cents beside my board, with the understanding
that I was to return; but I have not gone back yet.</p>
          <p>I arrived the next morning in the village of Perrysburgh,
where I found quite a settlement of colored
people, many of whom were fugitive slaves. I
made my case known to them and they sympathized
with me. I was a stranger, and they took me in
and persuaded me to spend the winter in Perrysburgh,
where I could get employment and go to Canada
the next spring, in a steamboat which run from
Perrysburgh, if I thought it proper so to do.</p>
          <p>I got a job of chopping wood during that winter
which enabled me to purchase myself a suit, and after
paying my board the next spring, I had saved
fifteen dollars in cash. My intention was to go back
to Kentucky after my wife.</p>
          <p>When I got ready to start, which was about,
the first of May, my friends all persuaded me not
to go, but to get some other person to go,
<pb id="bibb56" n="56"/>
for fear I might be caught and sold off from my
family into slavery forever. But I could not refrain
from going back myself, believing that I could
accomplish it better than a stranger.</p>
          <p>The money that I had would not pass in the
South, and for the purpose of getting it off to a good
advantage, I took a steamboat passage to Detroit,
Michigan, and there I spent all my money for dry
goods, to peddle out on my way back through the
State of Ohio. I also purchased myself a pair of
false whiskers to put on when I got back to Kentucky,
to prevent any one from knowing me after
night, should they see me. I then started back after
my little family. </p>
        </div2>
        <div2 type="chapter">
          <pb id="bibb57" n="57"/>
          <head>CHAPTER V.</head>
          <argument>
            <p>My safe arrival at Kentucky.—Surprise and delight to find my
family.—Plan for their escape projected.—Return to Cincinnati.
—My betrayal by traitors.—Imprisonment in Covington,
Kentucky.—Return to slavery—Infamous proposal of the
slave catchers.—My reply.</p>
          </argument>
          <p>I succeeded very well in selling out my goods,
and when I arrived in Cincinnati, I called on some
of my friends who had aided me on my first escape.
They also opposed me in going back only for my
own good. But it has ever been characteristic of
me to persevere in what I undertake.</p>
          <p>I took a Steamboat passage which would bring
me to where I should want to land about dark, so
as to give me a chance to find my family during the
night if possible. The boat landed me at the proper
at the proper time accordingly. This
landing was about six miles from Bedford, where my
mother and wife lived, but with different families.
My mother was the cook at a tavern, in Bedford.
When I approached the house where mother was
living, I remembered where she slept in the kitchen;
her bed was near the window.</p>
          <p>It was a bright moonlight night, and in looking
through the kitchen window, I saw a person lying
in bed about where my mother had formerly slept.
I rapped on the glass which awakened the person, 
<pb id="bibb58" n="58"/>
in whom I recognised my dear mother, but she
knew me not, as I was dressed in disguise with my
false whiskers on; but she came to the window and
asked who I was and what I wanted. But when I
took off my false whiskers, and spoke to her, she
knew my voice, and quickly sprang to the door,
clasping my hand, exclaiming, “Oh! is this my
son,” drawing me into the room, where I was so
fortunate as to find Malinda, and little Frances, my
wife and child, whom I had left to find the fair
climes of liberty, and whom I was then seeking to
rescue from perpetual slavery.</p>
          <p>They never expected to see me again in this life.
I am entirely unable to describe what my feelings
were at that time. It was almost like the return,
of the prodigal son. There was weeping and rejoicing.
They were filled with surprise and fear;
with sadness and joy. The sensation of joy at
that moment flashed like lightning over my afflicted
mind, mingled with a thousand dreadful apprehensions,
that none but a heart wounded slave father
and husband like myself can possibly imagine.
After talking the matter over, we decided it was
not best to start with my family that night, as it
was very uncertain whether we should get a boat
passage immediately. And in case of failure, if
Malinda should get back even before daylight the
next morning, it would, have excited suspicion
against her, as it was not customary for slaves to
leave home at that stage of the week without permission.
Hence we thought it would be the most,
effectual way for her to escape, to start on Saturday
<pb id="bibb59" n="59"/>
night; this being a night on which the slaves of
Kentucky are permitted to visit around among their
friends, and are often allowed to stay until the afternoon
on Sabbath day.</p>
          <p>I gave Malinda money to pay her passage on
board of a Steamboat to Cincinnati, as it was not
safe for me to wait for her until Saturday night;
but she was to meet me in Cincinnati, if possible,
the next Sunday. Her father was to go with her to
the Ohio River on Saturday night, and if a boat
passed up during the night she was to get on board
at Madison, and come to Cincinnati. If she should
fail in getting off that night, she was to try it the
next Saturday night. This was the understanding
when we separated. This we thought was the best
plan for her escape, as there had been so much excitement
caused by my running away.</p>
          <p>The owners of my wife were very much afraid that
she would follow me; and to prevent her they had
told her and other slaves that I had been persuaded
off by the Abolitionists, who had promised to set
me free, but had sold me off to New Orleans. They
told the slaves to beware of the abolitionists, that
their object was to decoy off slaves and then sell
them off in New Orleans. Some of them believed
this, and others believed it not; and the owners of
my wife were more watchful over her than the
had ever been before as she was unbelieving.</p>
          <p>This was in the month of June, 1838. I left
Malinda on a bright but lonesome Wednesday night.
When I arrived at the river Ohio, I found a small
<pb id="bibb60" n="60"/>
craft chained to a tree, in which I ferried myself
across the stream.</p>
          <p>I succeeded in getting a Steamboat passage back
to Cincinnati, where I put up with one of my
abolition friends who knew that I had gone after
my family, and who appeared to be much surprised
to see me again. I was soon visited by several
friends who knew of my having gone back after my
family. They wished to know why I had not
brought my family with me; but after they understood
the plan, and that my family was expected to
be in Cincinnati within a few days, they thought it
the best and safest plan for us to take a stage passage
out to Lake Erie. But being short of money,
I was not able to pay my passage in the stage, even
if it would have prevented me from being caught
by the slave hunters of Cincinnati, or save me from
being taken back into bondage for life.</p>
          <p>These friends proposed helping me by subscription;
I accepted their kind offer, but in going among
friends to solicit aid for me, they happened to get
among traitors, and kidnappers, both white and
colored men, who made their living by that kind of
business. Several persons called on me and made
me small donations, and among them two white men
came in professing to be my friends. They told me
not to be afraid of them, they were abolitionists.
They asked me a great many questions. They
wanted to know if I needed any help? and they
wanted to know if it could be possible that a man
so near white as myself could be a slave? Could
it be possible that men would make slaves of their
<pb id="bibb61" n="61"/>
own children? They expressed great sympathy for
me, and gave me fifty cents each; by this they
gained my confidence. They asked my master's
name; where he lived, &amp;c. After which they left
the room, bidding me God speed. These traitors,
or land pirates, took passage on board of the first
Steamboat down the river, in search of my owners.
When they found them, they got a reward of three
hundred dollars offered for the re-capture of this
“stray” which they had so long and faithfully been
hunting, by day and by night, by land and by water,
with dogs and with guns, but all without success.
This being the last and only chance for dragging me
back into hopeless bondage, time and money was
no object when they saw a prospect of my being re-taken.</p>
          <p>Mr. Gatewood got two of his slaveholding neighbors
to go with him to Cincinnati, for the purpose
of swearing to anything which might be necessary
to change me back into property. They came on
to Cincinnati, and with but little effort they soon
rallied a mob of ruffians who were willing to become
the watch-dogs of slaveholders, for a dram, in connection
with a few slavehunting petty constables.</p>
          <p>While I was waiting the arrival of my family, I
got a job of digging a cellar for the good lady where
I was stopping, and while I was digging under the
house, all at once I heard a man enter the house;
another stept up to the cellar door to where I was
at work; he looked in and saw me with my coat off
at work. He then rapped over the cellar door on
the house side, to notify the one who had entered
<pb id="bibb62" n="62"/>
the house to look for me that I was in the cellar.
This strange conduct soon excited suspicion so
strong in me, that I could not stay in the cellar and
started to come out, but the man who stood by the
door, rapped again on the house side, for the other
to come to his aid, and told me to stop. I attempted
to pass out by him, and he caught hold of me, and
drew a pistol, swearing if I did not stop he would
shoot me down. By this time I knew that I was
betrayed.</p>
          <p>I asked him what crime I had committed that I
should be murdered.</p>
          <p>“I will let you know, very soon,” said he.</p>
          <p>By this time there were others coming to his aid,
and I could see no way by which I could possibly
escape the jaws of that hell upon earth.</p>
          <p>All my flattering prospects of enjoying my own
fire-side, with my little family, were then blasted
and gone; and I must bid farewell to friends and
freedom forever.</p>
          <p>In vain did I look to the infamous laws of the
Commonwealth of Ohio, for that protection against
violence and outrage, that even the vilest criminal
with a white skin might enjoy. But oh! the dreadful
thought that after all my sacrifice and struggling
to rescue my family from the hands of the oppressor;
that I should be dragged back into cruel
bondage to suffer the penalty of a tyrant's law, to
endure stripes and imprisonment, and to be shut out
from all moral as well as intellectual improvement,
and linger out almost a living death.</p>
          <pb id="bibb63" n="63"/>
          <p>
            <figure id="ill5" entity="bibb63">
              <p>
                <hi rend="italics">Squire's office</hi>
              </p>
            </figure>
          </p>
          <pb id="bibb64" n="64"/>
          <p>When I saw a crowd of blood-thirsty, unprincipled
slave hunters rushing upon me armed with weapons
of death, it was no use for me to undertake to fight
my way through against such fearful odds.</p>
          <p>But I broke away from the man who stood by
with his pistol drawn to shoot me if I should resist,
and reached the fence and attempted to jump over it
before I was overtaken; but the fence being very
high I was caught by my legs before I got over.</p>
          <p>I kicked and struggled with all my might to get
away, but without success. I kicked a new cloth
coat off of his back, while he was holding on to my
leg. I kicked another in his eye; but they never
let me go until they got more help. By this time,
there was a crowd on the out side of the fence with
clubs to beat me back. Finally, they succeeded
in dragging me from the fence and overpowered me
by numbers and choked me almost to death.</p>
          <p>These ruffians dragged me through the streets of
Cincinnati, to what was called a justice office. But
it was more like an office of injustice.</p>
          <p>When I entered the room I was introduced to
three slaveholders, one of whom was a son of Wm.
Gatewood, who claimed me as his property. They
pretended to be very glad to see me.</p>
          <p>They asked me if I did not want to see my wife
and child; but I made no reply to any thing that
was said until I was delivered up as a slave. After
they were asked a few questions by the court, the
old pro-slavery squire very gravely pronounced me
to be the property of Mr. Gatewood.</p>
          <p>The office being crowded with spectators, many
<pb id="bibb65" n="65"/>
of whom were colored persons, Mr. G. was afraid to
keep me in Cincinnati, two or three hours even, until
a steamboat got ready to leave for the South.
So they took me across the river, and looked me up
in Covington jail, for safe keeping. This was the
first time in my life that I had been put into a jail.
It was truly distressing to my feelings to be locked
up in a cold dungeon for no crime. The jailor not
being at home, his wife had to act in his place.
After my owners had gone back to Cincinnati, the
jailor's wife, in company, with another female, came
into the jail and talked with me very friendly.</p>
          <p>I told them all about my situation, and these
ladies said they hoped that I might get away again,
and went so far as to tell me if I should be kept in
the jail that night, there was a hole under the wall
of the jail where a prisoner had got out. It was
only filled up with loose dirt, they said, and I might
scratch it out and clear myself.</p>
          <p>This I thought was a kind word from an unexpected
friend: I had power to have taken the key
from those ladies, in spite of them, and have cleared
myself; but knowing that they would have to suffer
perhaps for letting me get away, I thought I would
wait until after dark, at which time I should try to
make my escape, if they should not take me out before
that time. But within two or three hours, they
came after me, and conducted me on board of a boat;
on which we all took passage down to Louisville.
I was not confined in any way, but was well guarded
by five men, three of whom were slaveholders,
<pb id="bibb66" n="66"/>
and the two young men from Cincinnati, who had
betrayed me.</p>
          <p>After the boat had got fairly under way, with these vile
men standing around me on the upper deck of the boat, and
she under full speed carrying me back into a land of
torment, I could see no possible way of escape. Yet, while I
was permitted to gaze on the beauties of nature, on free
soil, as I passed down the river, things looked to me
uncommonly pleasant: The green trees and wild flowers of
the forest; the ripening harvest fields waving with the gentle
breezes of Heaven; and the honest farmers tilling their soil
and living by their own toil. These things seem to light
upon my vision with a peculiar charm. I was conscious of
what must be my fate; a wretched victim for Slavery
without limit; to be sold like an ox, into hopeless bondage,
and to be worked under the flesh devouring lash during life,
without wages.</p>
          <p>This was to me an awful thought; every time the boat
run near the shore, I was tempted to leap from the
deck, down into the water, with a hope of making my
escape. Such was then my feeling.</p>
          <p>But on a moment's reflection, reason with her warning
voice overcame this passion by pointing out the dreadful
consequences of one's committing suicide. And this I
thought would have a very striking resemblance to the act,
and I declined putting into practice this dangerous
experiment, though the temptation was great.</p>
          <p>These kidnapping gentlemen, seeing that I was much
dissatisfied, commenced talking to me, by saying
<pb id="bibb67" n="67"/>
that I must not be cast down; they were going
to take me back home to live with my family, if I
would promise not to run away again.</p>
          <p>To this I agreed, and told them that this was all
that I could ask, and more than I had expected.</p>
          <p>But they were not satisfied with having recaptured
me, because they had lost other slaves and
supposed that I knew their whereabouts; and truly I
did. They wanted me to tell them; but before
telling I wanted them to tell who it was that had
betrayed me into their hands. They said that I was
betrayed by two colored men in Cincinnati, whose
names they were backward in telling, because their
business in connection with themselves was to betray
and catch fugitive slaves for the reward offered.
They undertook to justify the act by saying if
they had not betrayed me, that somebody else would,
and if I would tell them where they could catch a
number of other runaway slaves, they would pay
for me and set me free, and would then take me in
as one of the Club. They said I would soon make
money enough to buy my wife and child out of
slavery.</p>
          <p>But I replied, “No, gentlemen, I cannot commit
or do an act of that kind, even if it were in my power
so to do. I know that I am now in the power of
a master who can sell me from my family for life, or
punish me for the crime of running away, just as he
pleases: I know that I am a prisoner for life, and
have no way of extricating myself; and I also know
that I have been deceived and betrayed by men who
<pb id="bibb68" n="68"/>
professed to be my best friends; but can all this
justify me in becoming a traitor to others? Can I do
that which I complain of others for doing unto me?
Never, I trust, while a single pulsation of my heart
continues to beat, can I consent to betray a fellow
man like myself back into bondage, who has escaped.
Dear as I love my wife and little child, and as
much as I should like to enjoy freedom and
happiness with them, I am unwilling to bring this about
by betraying and destroying the liberty and happiness
of others who have never offended me!”</p>
          <p>I then asked them again if they would do me the
kindness to tell me who it was betrayed me into
their hands at Cincinnati? They agreed to tell
me with the understanding that I was to tell where
there was living, a family of slaves at the North
who had run away from Mr. King of Kentucky. I
should not have agreed to this, but I knew the slaves
were in Canada, where it was not possible for them
to be captured. After they had told me the names
of the persons who betrayed me, and how was
done, then I told them their slaves were in Canada,
doing well. The two white men were Constables,
who claimed the right of taking up any strange
colored person as a slave; while the two colored
kidnappers, under the pretext of being abolitionists,
would find out all the fugitives they could, and
inform these Constables for which they got a part
of the reward, after they found out where the
slaves were from, the name of his master, &amp;c. By
the agency of these colored men, they were seized by a
<pb id="bibb69" n="69"/>
band of white ruffians, locked up in jail, and their
master sent for. These colored kidnappers, with the
Constables, were getting rich by betraying fugitive
slaves. This was told to me by one of the Constables,
while they were all standing around trying to
induce me to engage in the same business for the
sake of regaining my own liberty, and that of my
wife and child. But my answer even there, under
the most trying circumstances, surrounded by the
strongest enemies of God and man, was most emphatically
in the negative. “Let my punishment be
what it may, either with the lash or by selling me
away from my friends and home; let my destiny be
what you please, I call never engage in this business
for the sake of getting free.”</p>
          <p>They said I should not be sold nor punished with
the lash for what I had done, but I should be carried
back to Bedford, to live with my wife. Yet when
the boat got to where we should have landed, she
wafted by without making any stop, I felt awful
in view of never seeing my family again; they asked
what was the matter? what made me look so cast
down? I informed them that I knew I was to be
sold in the Louisville slave market, or in New
Orleans, and I never expected to see my family
again. But they tried to pacify me by promising
not to sell me to a slave trader who would take me
off to New Orleans; cautioning me at the same
time not to let it be known that I had had been a runaway.
This would very much lessen the value of me
in market<corr sic="(no punctuation)">.</corr> They would not punish me by putting
<pb id="bibb70" n="70"/>
irons on my limbs, but would give me a good name
and sell me to some gentleman in Louisville for a
house servant. They thought I would soon make
money enough to buy myself, and would not part
with me if they could get along without. But I
had cost them so much in advertising and looking
for me, that they were involved by it. In the first
place they paid eight hundred and fifty dollars for
me; and when I first run away, they paid one hundred
for advertising and looking after me; and now they
had to pay about forty dollars, expenses travelling
to and from Cincinnati, in addition to the three
hundred dollars reward; and they were not able to
pay the reward without selling me.</p>
          <p>I knew then the only alternative I left for me to
extricate myself was to use deception, which is the
most effectual defence a slave can use. I pretended
to be satisfied for the purpose of getting an opportunity
of giving them the slip.</p>
          <p>But oh, the distress of mind, the lamentable
thought that I should never again see the face nor
hear the gentle voice of my nearest and dearest
friends in this life. I could imagine what must be
my fate from my peculiar situation. To be sold
to the highest bidder, and then wear the chains
of slavery down to the grave. The day star of
liberty which had once cheered and gladdened my
heart in freedom's land, had then hidden itself from
my vision and the dark and dismal frown of slavery
had obscured the sunshine of freedom from me, as
they supposed for all time to come. </p>
          <pb id="bibb71" n="71"/>
          <p>But the understanding between us was, I was not
to be tied, chained, nor flogged; for if they should
take me into the city handcuffed and guarded by
five men the question might be asked what crime I
had committed? And if it should be known that I
had been a runaway to Canada, it would lessen the
value of me at least one hundred <sic corr="dollars.">dollaas.</sic></p>
          <p>
            <figure id="ill6" entity="bibb71">
              <p>Slave State Free State</p>
            </figure>
          </p>
        </div2>
        <div2 type="chapter">
          <pb id="bibb72" n="72"/>
          <head>CHAPTER VI.</head>
          <argument>
            <p>Arrival at Louisville, Ky.—Efforts to sell me.—Fortunate escape
from the man-stealers in the public street—I return to Bedford.
Ky.—The rescue of my family again attempted.—I started
alone expecting them to follow.—After waiting some months
I resolve to go back again to Kentucky.</p>
          </argument>
          <p>When the boat arrived at Louisville, the day being
too far spent for them to dispose of me, they had
to put up at a Hotel. When we left the 