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Old Plantation Days:
Electronic Edition.

Col. W. Mallory

Funding from the National Endowment for the Humanities
supported the electronic publication of this title.

Text scanned (OCR) by Fiona Mills
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First edition, 1999
ca. 150 K
Academic Affairs Library, UNC-CH
University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill,

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Call number E444 .M23 (Rare Book Collection, UNC-CH)

        The electronic edition is a part of the UNC-CH digitization project, Documenting the American South.
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Library of Congress Subject Headings, 21st edition, 1998

LC Subject Headings:




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        In presenting this small book to the public, I am only endeavoring to place before my readers a portrayal of the daily happenings in the life of a slave.

        The events here described are true in every particular, and will all bear the search-light of truth. Many people are to-day living who can vouch for the authenticity of every event of importance mentioned within the covers of this book.

        I also desire in this way to express my thanks to the Canadian public, and Hamiltonians in particular, for the many proud positions to which they have elevated me, and for the consideration and kindness with which I have invariably been treated by Canadians as a people.

        Trusting that my efforts to lay bare the treatment of the colored man during his period of bondage may be met with the encouragement and reward commensurate with the sufferings the negro, as a race, endured, I have the honor to subscribe myself,


COL. WM. MALLORY (ex-slave)

Page 2


                         In the dark dens of the dismal swamp
                         The hunted negro lay;
                         He saw the fire of the midnight camp,
                         And heard at times the horses' tramp
                         And a bloodhound's distant bay.

                         Where Will-o'-the-Wisps and glow-worms shine
                         In bulrush and in brake,
                         Where waving mosses shroud the pine,
                         And the cedar grows, and the poisonous vine
                         Is spotted like the snake.

                         Where hardly a human foot could pass,
                         Or a human heart would dare;
                         On the quaking turf of the green morass
                         He crouched in the rank and tangled grass
                         Like a wild beast in his lair.

                         A poor old slave, infirm and lame;
                         Great scars deformed his face;
                         On his forehead he bore the brand of shame,
                         And the rags that hid his beaten frame
                         Were a picture of disgrace.

                         Oll things above were bright and fair--
                         All things were glad and free--
                         Little squirrels darted here and there,
                         And wild birds filled the echoing air
                         With songs of liberty.

                         On him alone was the doom of pain
                         From the morning of his birth;
                         On him alone the curse of Cain
                         Fell, like the hail on the garnered grain,
                         And struck him to the earth.

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Col. Wm. Mallory's Escape
From Slavery.

        In the year 1826, on a plantation in North Carolina, I, ex-slave Col. William Mallory, first saw the light of day. For seven years I was allowed to remain with my parents, brothers and sisters, and was then sold to a Frenchman from Virginia by the name of LeBlanc. He was a half-brother to Simon Legree, whose character has been so well portrayed by Mrs. Harriet Beecher-Stowe in her story of "Uncle Tom's Cabin." From the day I was sold to LeBlanc up to the present--a lapse of sixty-two years--I have neither seen nor heard of any of my relatives, and there are many more men and women now under the protection of the British flag who have been forced to undergo the same cruel separation from parents and relatives through the same accursed cause--slavery.

        My first knowledge of slavery came to me when I was a little toddler. A white man was brought to me by my parents, and I was told by them that he was my master. As time passed on I thought it was strange that I should have to call him master, and I thought it stranger still that he should be allowed to whip the negroes till the blood flowed.

        I remained with Mr. LeBlanc until the marriage of his daughter, on which occasion I changed owners and became the property of the son-in-law, Mr. Susten Allen, a member of the White House at Washington. For fourteen years I remained with them, being assigned to the position of body-servant to my master, who, like many others at that time, was too lazy and indolent to wait upon himself. During my stay with Mr. Allan I attended every session held at the White House, and in my capacity as body-servant was admitted to the House on all occasions. It was there I first heard of Canada as a land where slavery was unknown, and where the negro could live free and untrammeled.

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        I had no education, and no opportunity was given me of procuring any. All that could be learned by the average slave was that which could be gathered from listening to and treasuring up the scraps of conversation we could overhear when our owners were talking together. Having heard so much of this grand country which lay to the north, I became imbued with the resolution to improve the first opportunity and try to find my way to it and freedom.

        Many acts of brutality on the part of my master and his overseers occurred during the fourteen years I stayed with Mr. Allen, and one in particular impressed itself on my mind and showed to me the vital necessity of escaping to freedom if I ever wished to call my life my own. On one broiling hot day in midsummer my master called a poor slave out of the cane-field, and for no appreciable cause had an overseer shave his head and afterwards flog him with his blacksnake whip. After the flogging a tight-fitting cap, lined with tar and pitch, was placed on the poor fellow's head, and he was compelled to stand in the hot, torturing sun until he fell to the ground. A few strokes of the lash not serving to revive him, an examination was made, when it was found that the poor slave was dead. His lifeless body was coolly kicked into a corner of the fence and left there until sundown, when some of his fellows were sent to give him a hurried and unblest burial.

        Another poor slave was whipped until he couldn't stand because my master caught him in the act of prayer; and a white man, caught teaching the slaves to read and pray, was shot down like a dog.

        Opoliceman, a "guardian of the peace," was what may be called the public whipper. He received a fee of fifty cents per head for every man, woman, boy or girl he flogged. This fee was in addition to his regular salary as a constable, and he found constant employment.

        I have seen children taken from their parents with as little compunction as one would exhibit in taking the calf from the cow. I have seen the young woman sold to the

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buyer, and he in turn would traffic in her charms; the young man taken from his wife and sold to a buyer from a distant part of the States; and one old woman's son was taken from her, tied by a rope around his neck to the pommel of his new owner's saddle, and compelled to leave his poor old mother, probably never more to see her alive.

        Hundreds of acts of equally brutal a nature could be told had I the inclination to indulge in a recital of all the horrible events I saw during the days of my captivity, but my book is not intended to deal with the lives of slaves at large, but purely a personal narrative.

        Late in the fall of the year 1860 the opportunity of escaping-- so long watched and patiently waited for--offered itself, and in company with three other slaves I started upon my perilous journey. Necessity compelled that our road should be far removed from the highways, as large handbills, offering rewards for our capture, were freely distributed, and to be seen meant to be taken and returned to our former homes and punished terribly as an example to the other hands on the plantation and as a warning of the fate that awaited any who desired to take their liberty out of the hands of their oppressors.

        We three travelled continually onward towards Canada and freedom, sometimes being hounded from swamp to swamp and bush to bush, and frequently being compelled to ford and swim streams in our efforts to throw the dogs off our tracks. On one occasion, about three months after having started on the hunt for that God-given gift--Liberty, we were nearly overtaken by a pack of hounds, and were compelled to strike out across country and each man shift for himself. Having been in my youth a remarkably rapid runner, I soon left my companions far behind, and I cannot say whether they escaped, were captured, or died from starvation and exposure.

        I was now forced to continue my way alone, and under those circumstances was it to be marvelled at that the country through which I passed should appear, to my eyes, to be

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the most dismal on the face of the earth? To add to my sufferings and discomfort I had to encounter the rigors of winter weather. The ice, sleet and snow were unknown quantities to the slave, who had never before ventured so far north from the place of his birth, and the experience was by no means a pleasant one, unprovided as I was with clothing suitable for cold weather. My means of subsistence consisted of everything that I could in any way obtain, and many a meal have I had from men of my own nationality who endangered their own safety in order to appease the pangs of hunger which assailed me.

        One night, after having journeyed all day long, I saw a house standing by itself in a small clearing, and after having taken a close survey of the surroundings and having seen nothing of an alarming nature, I made bold to go to the door and ask for something to eat. A white man answered my summons at the door, and on making known my wants he invited me to enter his house and rest myself while he procured me something to eat, at the same time telling me he was an Abolitionist and a friend to all colored men. The only other occupant of the place at that time was the little child of the man, a girl about three years of age. The man busied himself preparing my meal, and my attention being taken up by the antics of the child, my entertainer managed, unknown to me, to send word to a couple of slave hunters who were in his neighborhood, that there was an escaping slave at his house. Imagine my surprise, when, after having watched the child at play for some time, I accidentally raised my eyes towards the front door, to see the doorway filled by the forms of the two slave-hunters with rifles levelled at my breast, and at the same time hear a stern command to remain where I was on peril of my life.

        Quicker than thought was my action. Not waiting to reply to them, I suddenly reached forward and raised the little child from the floor, and holding her between my body and the rifles of my pursuers, I backed to the rear door of the house, darted into the yard, dropped the child to the

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ground, and ran for the woods at top speed, but, unfortunately, I did not escape unhurt, one of the marksmen being kind enough to leave his card in the shape of a wound along the tips of my fingers, where his rifle bullet hit me.

        After dodging and doubling about the bush for a long time they gave up the search for me, and I was enabled to procure some rest in a clump of bushes, which afforded me a safe hiding-place. Soon after entering my retreat I heard a sound somewhat resembling a cough, and, peering out from the bushes, I saw a colored woman who appeared to be trying to find something or somebody. After having watched her actions for some time, I determined to make my presence known to her, with the result that I found I was the one she was searching for. Her name was Taylor, and she was the wife of the man who owned her. Their place of residence was near enough to where I had been betrayed an dso nearly captured to allow of them hearing the rifle shots, and surmising that some poor slave may be running away, she set out from home to endeavor to be of some assistance.

        I was afraid of another trap, but became assured after a time that I had nothing to fear from Mrs. Taylor. She and her daughter, a fine, grown young woman, took me to the house, bound up my wounds, hid me in an out-of-the-way place, fed, clothed and cared for me till I was in fit condition to take the road again and shift for myself.

        Previous to starting out from the plantation of Mr. Allen I had secured a revolver which at times stood me in good stead, and to which I was fortunate enough to cling through all my vicissitudes, and which trusty weapon I still possess.

        After leaving the hospitable roof of the Taylor family my way led along the banks of a small river, and as I was fortunate enough to secure a boat which some one had left moored to a tree, I was able to proceed much more comfortably upon my journey. For some nights I followed the river course, being compelled to secrete my boat in the daytime and betake myself to the bush or some hole in the rocks until night made it safe for me to stir abroad again. One day

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soon after leaving Taylor's house, I was terrified to see a small boat, containing three men, coming down stream and heading directly for the spot in which my best friend at that time--my boat--was hidden. In a few minutes they again appeared to view with my boat in tow, and I was again reduced to the necessity of walking. On the following Saturday night I resumed my tramp as soon as darkness settled down. I followed the river bank, keeping a sharp lookout for means of conveyance by water, as it left no trail, and I was soon favored by fortune in the shape of another boat which I unhesitatingly confiscated to my own use.

        In the morning (Sunday) I left my boat and struck off through the country on foot. I was now in the State of Pennsylvania. I walked on all day, and at night I was near the borders of Pittsburg.On going to a farmhouse I found some kind friends in the persons of the farmer and his family. Their name was Butler, and as Mr. B. was fond of music he asked me could I play an instrument. Fortunately I could play a little on the violin, and as there happened to be one in the house I was enabled, in a small measure, to repay him for his kindness to me. He insisted on my remaining all night, and after a sleep in a comfortable bed, he gave me a hearty breakfast and I again resumed my tramp much refreshed. I travelled all day Monday, meeting with no hindrances, and at night I again found shelter.

        On the Tuesday morning I passed through a small village and chanced to meet two men on horseback. They stopped me and wanted to know who I was and where I was going. I gave a fictitious name and stated that I was going on an errand. My questioner wasn't disposed to credit my story, and charged me with being a runaway slave. I denied the soft impeachment and offered to go back with them to the village to prove the truth of my story. My little scheme to deceive them wouldn't work, and one of the men dismounted in order to secure me, but the sight of a dirk in the hands of a powerful young colored man induced him to remount his horse and gallop off towards the village. I was

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now in rather a hazardous position, for my late interlocutor would certainly rouse the villagers and a chase would be the result. I made use of my abilities as a runner, and soon found shelter in a nearby swamp. As it was the springtime of the year, and I was well towards the north, the waters of the swamp were none too warm, and a cold drizzling rain did not add any to my comfort. For the greater portion of the day I was compelled to wade waist deep in muck, water and ice, and my sufferings were excruciating in the extreme. I had no food, and at night I left the swamp and found my way to a farmhouse, where I procured something to eat.

        By this time I thought it passably safe to travel by day and rest at night, and I took advantage of any shelter that offered itself. Before I got far from the village previously mentioned, I one night took refuge in a barn and made myself a bed in the hay-loft. Soon after composing myself to rest, a man entered the barn with his team, fixed the horses for the night and ascended the steps of the loft in order to throw down some hay for the animals. In groping around in the dark for the fodder he accidentally grasped me by the leg. I thought it was all up with me, but luckily I managed to escape from the barn and again entered the swamp. The farmer soon aroused the neighborhood, and as soon as the dogs could be loosed they were set upon my trail. By this time I had secured a good headway in the swamp, and could hear the noise of my pursuers and the baying of the hounds behind me. They followed me across the morass, for I couldn't throw the dogs off my scent. Seeing a barn in a clearing I made for it, and decided to leave my fate to Providence.

        My pursuers soon arrived at the building and were going farther into the swamp when one of the men suggested that the barn be searched. Accordingly, one of the dogs was sent in, and after sniffing about for a while he went out without discovering me. They were about to go on again when another man suggested that "Bull" be sent in, and if any one was in the building he would rout him out. "Bull" entered,

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stayed sniffing about for a time and then retired. My pursuers were then satisfied that no one was in the building, and they departed to continue the search elsewhere.

        I continued to hide in barns and outhouses for some weeks longer, and many hazardous ventures and hairbreadth escapes-- which I hope to relate fully in a future work I am contemplating-- fell to my lot before I at last got into the hands of the Abolitionists, who conducted me, by means of the "Underground Railway" to Canada, where I could freely and gladly sing:

                         I'vewon my way to Canada,
                         That free and happy land;
                         No more in cruel slavery
                         Need William Mallory stand.
                         Fare-the-well, old master,
                         That's enough for me!
                         I'm here, in dear old Canada,
                         Where colored men are free.

                         I will not have the driver's lash
                         Raised high above my head;
                         I will not have a peck of corn
                         Dealt out to me for bread;
                         For God, in His great goodness,
                         Came down to Calvary
                         And bore the burdens of the Cross
                         To set His people free.
                         Fare-the-well, old master,
                         That's enough for me!
                         I'm here in dear old Canada,
                         Where colored men are free.

        Soon after crossing the line into Canada I found employment on different farms and gardens, and eventually arrived at Hamilton, in which city I decided to remain. About this time Mr. Abraham Lincoln was nominated and elected to the Presidency of the United States. Hardly had the

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election been ratified when the fire of sedition, which had been for years smouldering and quietly spreading over the Southern States, burst out in all its fury.

        Victory for the North in the Presidential campaign had been agreed upon by the Southerners as the signal for immediate action, and the result was that this great nation became embroiled in a disastrous conflict. Os discussion grew warmer and warmer, President Lincoln saw that slavery--which was the root of the trouble--would have to be abolished in order to bring the matter to a focus. Accordingly, he caused to be released from bondage some three thousand of slaves in the District of Columbia, and, in addition, offered freedom to all colored men who would join and serve in the Northern Army. He, by this means, instituted the measure of Emancipation, which brought the dispute to its real issue--a fight for or against slavery.

        The proclamation offering freedom to the negroes was issued in 1863, and the result was that fourteen millions of slaves in the Northern States were set at liberty. Many of them immediately entered the army and contributed not a little to the ability of the North to carry on the war.

        On the day he signed the proclamation, President Lincoln, after hours of hand-shaking with visitors to the White House, remarked: "My signature looks a little tremulous, but my resolution is firm. I told the Southerners that if they did not return to their allegiance and cease murdering our soldiers I would strike at the pillar of their strength. The promise shall be kept, and not one word will I ever recall."

        On the surrender of Richmond the President visited that city, and it was then that his tender heart was gladdened, for he saw some of the first signs of the benefits of his proclamation regarding emancipation. Hardly had his presence in the city become known before hordes of freed negroes thronged about him with wild eyes of delight, endeavoring to express in their simple way their thanks to the deliverer. In 1864 the colored men of Baltimore presented him with a beautifully bound copy of the Bible. The book

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was edged with a band of pure gold, and a massive plate of the same precious metal adorned each cover. On the front plate was engraved the figure of Lincoln in the act of removing the shackles from the limbs of a slave, and at his feet was a scroll with the word "Emancipation" engraved thereon. On the back plate was inscribed the following:

        "Presented to Abraham Lincoln, President of the United States, the friend of universal freedom, from the loyal colored people of Baltimore, as a token of respect and gratitude."

        But a terrible calamity was impending. While all the North was rejoicing over the return of peace, and celebrating the anniversary of the fall of Sumter, the assassination of Lincoln was consummated. John Wilkes Booth was the unhappy assassin, and he chose this occasion as the most fitting opportunity of carrying out his fell purpose. The President was at Ford's theater, attending the performance, in company with his family and some friends, when this fiendish assassin, by a scheme, secured admission to the President's box, placed a uistol to the back of Lincoln's head and pulled the trigger. Soon the dread news was made public, but of all the grief-stricken people none were more cast down than the egroes--for whom it might truthfully be said Abraham Lincoln died. That night thousands of freed slaves walked the streets, wringing their hands and expressing their despair by loud cries of distress.

        It was desired by many that Lincoln be laid to rest in Washington, but other opinion prevailed, and he was interred in Illinois. In that State, in one of the cemeteries of Springfield--the town in which many of his most happy days were spent--the body of the good President lies.

        On the next page will be found a poem to the memory of Abraham Lincoln. It has been composed by me, and I take this opportunity of presenting it to the public, at the same time placing on record my small tribute to the memory of the man whose glorious career was so fearfully ended by the hand of the grim monster--Death.

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                         Celestial Choir, enthroned in realms of light;
                         Columbia's scenes of glorious toils I'll write.
                         While Freedom's cause her anxious breast alarms
                         She flashes dreadful in refulgent arms.
                         See mother Earth her offspring bemoan,
                         And nation gaze at scenes before unknown.

                         Famed by thy valor, for thy virtues more,
                         Hear every tongue thy guardian aid implore!
                         Proceed, great chief, with Virtue on thy side;
                         Thy every action let the goddess guide.
                         A crown, a mansion, and a throne that shine
                         With gold unfading, Lincoln, be thine!

                         From this low vale of sorrow and of strife,
                         With honors laden, and in full of time,
                         To realms of joy and heights of bliss sublime
                         Great Lincoln has winged his raptur'd way
                         And walks with Angels in the blaze of day.

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        When the American war of the Rebellion broke out I returned to the States and took up arms on behalf of my poor, downtrodden race, and against the slave owners and men of the South. The first battle in which I was engaged was the famous battle of Bull's Run, where I took my place in the ranks as a private and bore my share of the brunt of battle. There had been a great deal of opposition to the use of colored men as troops, and it was not until July, 1862, that that objection was removed. It was then that Congress authorized the employment of colored men as soldiers, and from that time until the close of the war Victory seemed to follow the colored troops.

        The History of the American War mentions time and again the gallant conduct and undaunted mein maintained by the colored regiments during this terrible period of strife, when the hand of brother was lifted against brother, and when father and son opposed each other on the bloody field of battle. At the close of the year 1862 the number of colored troops in the field was one hundred and fifty thousand.

        At this time I secured my promotion to the rank of Colonel, and had an opportunity of showing my ability at the battle of Vicksburg. After the battle we pressed on towards New Orleans, which city was captured, thus opening up the Mississippi River district. At New Orleans we were hemmed in on all sides for a long time, but after a series of sharp skirmishes with the enemy we were relieved from our unpleasant predicament. On leaving the vicinity of New Orleans we were engaged in a number of minor battles with the Confederate troops. No fighting of any importance fell to my lot after that until the great battle of Gettysburg took place.

        In that great affair one hundred thousand men bore arms for the North, and the Confederate army was represented by a force of ninety-seven thousand men, two hundred and eighty cannons and a large contingent of cavalry. It was at this fight that I had the honor of assisting in the capture of two thousand five hundred Confederate troops and

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twelve stands of colors. The loss to both sides was great--two thousand eight hundred and thirty-four men on the side of Freedom giving up their lives that day, thirteen thousand seven hundred and thirty-three men were wounded, and six thousand two hundred and forty-three were reported missing--in all, making a grand total of twenty-three thousand two hundred and ten men who shed their blood that the flag of Freedom should float proudly over the nation. The Confederate loss was estimated at twenty-eight thousand men, five thousand of whom were killed, and the remaining twenty-three thousand wounded and missing.

        This great and decisive battle practically ended the war. Such sights as I saw on that memorable day will never be effaced from my memory, and I lay claim to the great honor of being the only Black Colonel who assisted to gain the great victory won on the field of America's Waterloo--Gettysburg.

                         Hail! bright auspicious day;
                         Long shall America
                         Thy praise resound.
                         Joy to our native land--
                         Let every heart expand--
                         For Lincoln is at hand
                         With glory crowned!

                         Hushed by the din of arms!
                         Henceforth the olive's charms
                         Shall war preclude.
                         These shores a head shall own--
                         Unsullied by a throne--
                         Our much lov'd Lincoln,
                         The great, the good.

        The last struggle in connection with the war occurred in the month of May following the Battle of Gettysburg. The fight was short, sharp and decisive, and took place on the Rio Grande near Santiago. Soon afterward we received our honorable discharge from further military duty. We had

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taken part in an honorable struggle for supremacy, honorably had we conducted ourselves, and honorably were we rewarded with the consciousness that we had assisted in liberating millions of our brethren from bondage and had freed them forever from the hand of the oppressor and the whiplash of slavery. It is no wonder that Victory perched upon our standards and that white-winged Peace could at last fold her wings and rest over the whole nation.


                         On Canada's happy shore I stand
                         And cast a wistful eye
                         On Britain's fair and happy land,
                         Where my possessions lie.

                         Sweet fields this side the American States
                         Lay stretched in living green;
                         Behind the slaves the devil stood,
                         While Niagara rolled between.

                         But tremulous negroes start and shrink
                         To get on Canada's shore;
                         They knew the Queen was on their side--
                         And that for ever more.

                         She reigns over the black--the white,
                         She helped to set them free,
                         And now they're at their liberty,
                         They cry--"God Bless the Queen!"

                         Millions of slaves in the cane and cotton fields
                         Sent up their prayers to God,
                         That He might free them from their chains
                         And the overseers' cruel rod.

        At the close of the war I returned to Canada and resumed my residence in Hamilton. Bringing back with me some hard-earned money, I invested in a piece of property

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on John street south, where for a number of years I carried on a business in hay, straw and wood. I became interested in the welfare of the colored race as a nation, and wished to forward their spiritual as much as their physical welfare. I have always held a prominent position in the Church, and about twenty years ago I was appointed by Bishop Nazareh as a missionary. I have served in that capacity under the three succeeding bishops--Disney, Hawkins, and our present Bishop C.O. Washington.

        Some years ago a number of colored missionaries organized an expedition to Africa, and I was honored by receiving an appointment as a member of the mission band. On our way to Africa the vessel stopped for a time at the Grand Canary Islands, and I, with a companion, had the extreme pleasure of seeing the splendors contained within the of the world-famous Roman Catholic Cathedral there situate. Our guide was one of the priests connected with the Cathedral, and he very kindly spent considerable time showing us everything of importance in and about the sacred edifice.

        Our mission to Africa is being prosecuted with great vigor, and the natives of that benighted country are rapidly becoming Christianized through the efforts of missionaries of our own color.

        The success of our work in Africa caused me on my return home to endeavor to enlist the sympathies of my brethren in this great work of evangelization, and with that end in view I issued the following


"To the Colored People of Canada:--

        "The time has come when we should put our shoulders to
"the wheel and go forward and assist in Christianizing
"and evangelizing the colored people of dark Africa. If
"Africa is to be civilized, it must be done by our own race.
"Now this can be done by educating our race so they will go
"forward as if to the cry of battle; when we will take our

Page 18

"Bibles in our hands, as we did in the days gone by of
"slavery, when we shouldered our muskets and fought for
"freedom. We have lawyers, doctors and ministers in our
"ranks. Then, why not assist the white people in doing
"this great and noble work? I propose raising money for
"the purpose of sending some of our own race to that
"country, and I ask for your co-operation, as well as your liberal
"and hearty support."

        Previous to my trip to Africa the Northwest Rebellian broke out and I immediately placed myself in communication with the Minister of Militia, Sir Adolph Caron, whose letter to me relative to the matter I still have in my possession.

        Quite recently I evolved a missionary scheme for the elevation of my race, and in connection with that scheme I was presented to Sir Oliver Mowat, while the Legislature was in session at Toronto. Hon. J.M. Gibson, member for Hamilton, was the gentleman who kindly presented me to Ontario's Premier, who heartily endorsed my missionary scheme and assisted it in a pecuniary way.

        Soon afterwards I went to Ottawa, and through the medium of Mr. Alex. McKay and Mr. Ryckman--members for Hamilton--I was presented to the late Sir John Thompson, Premier of Canada. He also took a favorable view of my scheme, and assisted financially and otherwise. Before leaving Ottawa I was invited to address the House, and was fortunate enough to be able to hold the attention of my audience from the commencement to the close of my speech.

        On the death of Sir John Thompson I lost a friend of inestimable value. He, in conversation with me, expressed great interest in my welfare, and told me that on his return from England he wished me to call on him, as he had never before had an opportunity of conversing with a man who actually had gone through the trials and tribulations incidental to the life of a slave.

        The photo-engraving on the front of the cover of this book is a correct representation of myself when presented to

Page 19

the honorable gentlemen mentioned above, and also as when I addresses the House on that occasion.

        Among other pleasant memories in the time when Sir John A. Macdonald was returned to power. I was appointed on a deputation to confer with Sir John, at the Royal Hotel, on the wals and means to secure his re-election, which end was gained, and he remained in power from that time till he passed way from earth.

        When the Prince of Wales came to Canada and visited Hamilton I was appointed Marshal for the day, in company with four white citizens; and when Princess Louise came to Hamilton I was again distinguished by being appointed a Marshal, and later in the day I was again highly honored by being presented to Her Royal Highnes by the late Judge Sinclair and John Calder, Esq. Her Highness graciously extended her hand to me and conversed with me relative to my race and its well-being. I told her I had been a slave, but had escaped, and had won freedom under the British flag. She congratulated me on my escape, and expressed deep regret that a race, represented by such an intelligent man as I, should ever have been enslaved.

        Oll of this only goes to show that the colored man, by honesty, industry and sobriety, combined with self-respect, may hold up his head and move on terms of equality with the white people in this fair country of Canada.


        During my period of servitude with Mr. Allen my abilities as a runner were often called into requisition in order to assist my master in levying tributte on the pockets of other planters. Many a time have I been called to get out on the road and run a couple of hundred yards against a champion from some other plantation, and never--up to the time of my escape fro mbondage--was I headed by an opponent. My record as a pedestrian was added to on the occasion of the Battle of Bull's Run, when it was reported that I actually outrun the bullets!

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        The name of the famous battle should be changed from "Bull's Run" to "Everybody's Run," for on that day Northerners and Southerners run and didn't know what they were running for or where they were running to.

        I once heard a gentleman say that he had been told by a colored man that he would rather be enslaved than free. I say there's a large mansion on Hamilton Mountain already fitted up for the reception of him, or any other colored man, who would wish to again bear the burdens and suffer from the brutality of slavery and slave-owners. I would rather exist on one meal a day, as a free man, than live in luxury in bondage.

        I have heard it remarked by white men that a colored man couldn't go into business the same as his white brethren. Look in the States! The black man is to be found in Congress (a representative from both races), in drug stores, wood and lumber dealers, judges, lawyers, doctors, professors in colleges and universities, ministers of the gospel, and many negroes--in both Canada and the United States--have been the recipients of high distinctions at the hands of the white man.

        The best organ ever made in Canada was built in Kingston, Ont., and the maker was a negro.

        Amongst the sad pictures of slave life that may be presented to my readers, the saddest was that of slave women pleading with their masters (and erstwhile husbands) not to sell their children. Some of the children cold by their combined owner and father could hardly be distinguished from the white people. All pleadings were in vain. Either the father had no regard for his offspring, or he had a heart of adamantine properties. No man with one grain of soul could

Page 21

sell his own flesh and blood! Was it not the acme of cruelty to rob a female of that priceless jewel--virtue--and then tear from her already bleeding heart that which would serve, in a measure, to sear over the wounds inflicted on her by her ruthless owner? Can such dastardly acts go unpunished? I tell you these men will all be rewarded for their deeds and misdeeds, and full measure for measure will be extracted from each and every one of these miscreants on the last great day when the trumpet shall sound and the grave give up its dead.

        During the war the regiment with which I was connected was ordered to Georgia. While en route I was appointed as scout to the expedition, and on one of my excursions for signs of the enemy I fell in with my former owner, Mr. Allen. He was hiding from his pursuers, and taking compassion on him, I assisted him to escape. Since the close of the war I have seen him once, when he assured me that if slavery days were ever again to return to the States, and he should ever again become an owner, the slaves on his plantation should be ruled with the rod of mercy, and that harshness and cruelty would be unknown quantities within his domain.

        Some people treat my race with respect, while others have the old feeling that was rampant in the South, but every honest colored man and woman deserves the respect and proper consideration due any gentleman or lady.

        The course of procedure followed out in making a good negro-hunter out of a dog in the South was about as follows: They would take a hound pup of any breed--the larger the bread the better for the purpose--shut him up closely and not let him see a negro until he was old enough to be "sicked on" to any desired object. Then he was made to chase the slaves "in fun," and if he caught his man he was rewarded with pieces of raw meat. The slave used in the training

Page 22

process would be compelled by the dog's trainer to resort to all the artifices that an escaping slave could use to throw a dog off the scent, such as climbing trees, walking in water, doubling on his own track, etc., in order that the dog might become thoroughly proficient in his business. The dog's reward was always a liberal supply of raw meat, while the poor slave's reward was invariably an application of rawhide for not running more swiftly.

        The Stars and Stripes is the emblem of America. The stars are all right, but the stripes have been most infernally excruciating to millions of my brethren.

        John Brown died endeavoring to liberate the slaves. His work did not stop the work of liberation, for God raised up thousands who only waited for the opportunity of doing something in that cause.

        I could name several Presidents with whom I was personally acquainted, but I merely make mention of the name of Lincoln, as he was the one who liberated four millions of slaves--my brethren--when the Constitution of the United States declared that we were a free and independent race.


Colonel Mallory Makes a New York Railway Official Take Back Water.

        Col. Mallory is back in Hamilton again. After lecturing in St. Catharines he paid a visit to Washington in company with a colored friend to see about a pension. On returning to New York, it is said, Col. Mallory thought it would be a good idea to have a ride on the elevated railway,

Page 23

and with that end in view presented himself at the ticket office and procured the necessary pasteboards without the agent seeing his hands or face. Col. Mallory and his friend took seats.

        Shortly afterwards the conductor put in an appearance.

        "You can't travel in this car," said he.

        "Why not?" asked Mallory.

        "Because colored people are not permitted to ride."

        "I bought my ticket, and I intend to stay where I am," replied the Colonel.

        "You'll have to get out!"

        "I am not going to get out."

        "I will put you off!"

        "I dare you to anything of the kind."

        "I could throw off half a dozen like you!"

        "You'd better pause before you act. If you throw me from this car my fall will shake the British Empire and involve two great nations in war. I am a subject of Queen Victoria, so you had better beware!"

        The superintendent of the line happened to be on board, and hearing the rumpus he stepped into the car.

        Mallory explained the position to him, and that official "called down" the conductor and gave Mallory and his friend passes over the whole system.

        It is a dangerous thing to fool with Mallory when lie is on his diplomatic travels.


        At the regular meeting of Mount Albion Lodge of Freemasons the brethren presented to Col. Wm. Mallory a handsome gold watch as a mark of recognition for the gallant stand which the Colonel has always taken in the interests of the African race, both here and in foreign lands, wherever their rights are assailed. The Colonel was much affected by the presentation, and hopes somehow, sometimes and somewhere to prove his gratitude by acts as well as words.

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Colonel Mallory Making His Escape From Slavery.

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How Col. Mallory's Father Fought Boers.

Thrilling Story of a Battle Between The Zulus and Boers Many Years Ago.

        Yesterday Col. Mallory was in a reminiscent mood, and he gave a few friends a short account of his father and the manner in which he came to America. The Colonel's statement, in substance, was as follows:

        Some of my friends were pleased to be amused because I offered my services to the government to fight the Boers in South Africa. Well, I have nothing to be ashamed of, and nothing to apologise for on that account. Any man may rightly offer his services to the government which protects him; and, even if I am getting old, I am not sure but there is a little fight left in the old man yet.

        But I had another reason for offering to go to Ofrica, the land of my fathers, to fight against those who robbed my people of their land, destroyed them as a tribe, and made me a slave. The story is a long one; but I can give the main points of it in a few words. In the early years of the last century my father was the chief of a small band belonging to the great Zulu nation, which controlled early all the territory from the Zambesi to the Orange River, and from the Indian ocean to the great Kalahari desert. The Zulus were not civilized, as white men understand the word. They were hunters and warriors. They lived according to the light they had; they observed the traditions and customs of their fathers; and they asked only that the white man should

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leave them alone in the condition in which it had pleased the Great Father of the white man and the black man to place them. But the Dutch settlers in the Cape Colony were not willing to leave them alone. Those settlers had more land of their own than they could use for their crops and their cattle; but still they were not satisfied. They looked away to the north and they coveted the fertile plains of the Zulu nation. With them to desire a thing was to acquire a right to it. In their eyes the Zulus, who had lived in that country from immemorial times, had no right which a white man was bound to respect; and so they gathered their young men and started northward to kill and rob the Zulus, who had never done them any wrong.

        But just at that time it was not prudent for them to provoke a conflict. The great Tshaka had made of the Zulus one nation and had an army able to sweep the Boers into the sea. He desired, however, to be at peace with the whites and he sent the chief (Sotobi) and wy father to Cape Town to treat with the governor and have it arranged that the Boers should not invade his territories. The British authorities were, however, not prepared to treat with Tshaka. They had not long been in possession of Cape Colony; there was no English population there; they did not fully understand the strength of Tshaka nor appreciate his designs; and they made it impossible for the envoys to reach Cape Town. And so the two chiefs turned back. Sotobi went directly to Tshaka's capital to report the failure of his mission, while my father turned westward to join his band on the bank of a river near the northern boundary of what was lately the Transvaal Republic, and is now a British Colony. This was not the settled home of the band, but a temporary hunting camp. According to custom a light wall of thorny shrubs had been built around the kraal as a defence against beasts and bands of marauders.

        As my father, accompanied only by one faithful friend, reached a hill overlooking this valley, he was astonished to see that white men were firing with muskets and hunting

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rifles at the kraal. The Zulus made no reply, because the Young men of the party were absent on a hunt, and because they had no firearms. They were armed only with the primitive weapons of the South African warriors and hunters.

        For a few minutes my father was unable to decide what he ought to do. His first impulse was to dash upon the assailants. But this, is was evident, would accomplish nothing but his own death. Then he saw the party of Zulu hunters returning from the chase. He, therefore, made a wide detour to avoid the Boers, and succeeded in joining this party. Quickly throwing aside their game the hunters prepared for a counter attack upon the Boers. As they reached the summit of the hill they perceived that the white men had crawled up to the barrier of the kraal, and had set the thorns on fire. Under cover of the smoke my father and his companions descended the hill and made a determined rush upon the besiegers. They were brave men; but the men they met were brave also. Besides, the Boers had a decided advantage in numbers, and carried firearms. The battle did not last long. One by one the Zulus fell until not one was left. By this time the frail fortification of the camp was consumed, and the Boers, rushing in, destroyed all who could offer any resistance. Those who were too old to be valuable or so young as to need care were killed; the rest were carried away into slavery. Before departing the Boers examined the fallen, and among these were two or three who were only stunned or not badly wounded, and these they took with them. Among these was my father. When he was in part recovered from his wounds they set him to work; but he was a most intractable servant. Neither blows nor chains could tame. Several times he tried to escape; and more than once he fought with his captors. At length he was taken, with a number of others, to the coast in Portuguese territory and sold to a captain of a Spanish slaver. This man landed his cargo at Charleston, South Carolina, and my father was sold to a man named Hezekiah Spruel, who lived near Raleigh, North Carolina. He was

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thousands of miles from his home; his wife and children were dead; his band was destroyed; hope died within him, and he accepted his fate. He married again, and I was the third of his children, born about the year 1825.


        Before the Civil War in the United States there was a great fire in Charleston, South Carolina. A great part of the city was destroyed, and the whole of it was in danger. The flames from the burning buildings were swept by e wind toward other buildings, and blazing boards were carried long distances, in many cases setting fire to houses far from the actual conflagration. One of these brands was carried to the spire of St. Michael's Cathedral, which is about 400 feet high, the highest in America, and it appeared as if the noble edifice was doomed to destruction. But at the critical moment a man was seen to emerge from the spire a short distance above the roof of the church and to climb up and up until he reached the spot, threw down the burning board, and with his hands extinguished the blaze which had been started. Thus the sacred structure was saved from destruction. On his return to the earth this man was found to be a slave, and in gratitude to him for his great service he was set free, and he remained a respected and useful citizen of Charleston for many years. O beautiful poem was written to commemorate the event.

        The late Rev. Father Hinchey met with this poem in the course of his reading, and making inquiry into the matter

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learned that the name of the colored hero was Mallory. He thereupon called upon Col. Wm. Mallory, of this city, and asked him if he had any knowledge of the Mallory of Charleston. The Colonel told him that many years ago he and an elder brother were slaves in Louisiana, and from that State they started toward Canada in the hope of gaining their freedom. After many adventures and great suffering William succeeded in crossing the Ietroit river at Malden, and he has been a citizen of Hamilton during the greater part of the time that has since passed. But the elder brother was captured and taken back, and the Colonel has received no certain information of him since. But he has reason to think that the man who seved St. Michael's Cathedral was his long-lost brother; and, though the latter is now dead, the Colonel is writing to Charleston to get further information on the subject. He was advised by Father Hinchey to do so some time before the reverend gentleman's death. It would be strange if he should learn that, of the two men who set out on the search for freedom from the swamps of Louisiana, the one should find success in Canada and the other by heroically saving a church from destruction.

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Col. Mallory's Brother Saving St. Michael's.

Page 31

Hamilton, Ont., September 3rd, 1902.

My Dear Colonel Mallory:

        I have caused enquiries to be made as to the name of the "Slave" who was known as "The Hero of St. Michael's Cathedral, Charleston, South Carolina," and I find that he was well known around Charleston, that he was celebrated for many feats of strength and agility, not the least of which was the saving of that Catholic Cathedral in Charleston. That his name was Mallory, and I have not the least doubt but that he was a brother of your own, as he was said to hail from the same place where you told me you were born. He would probably be an elder brother of yours.


Yours very truly,



        The following poem about St. Michael's Church, Charleston, South Carolina, will be familiar to many, as it has often been recited by readers. The "Slave" therein referred to has been for many years a resident of this city, and is seen daily on our streets.

                         Do you beg for a story, my darling, my brown eyed Leopold;
                         And you Alice with a face like morning and curling locks of gold;
                         Then come if you will, and listen, stand close beside my knee,
                         To a tale of a Southern city, proud Charleston on the sea.

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                         It was long ago, my children, ere ever the signal gun
                         That blazed about Fort Sumpter had waked the North as one;
                         Long ere the wondrous pillar of battle, cloud and fire,
                         Had marked where the unchained millions marched on to their hearts desire.

                         On the roofs and glittering turrets, that night, as the sun went down,
                         The mellow glow of the twilight shone like a jewelled crown;
                         And, bathed in the living glory, as the people lifted their eyes,
                         They saw the pride of the city, the spire of St. Michael's rise.

                         High over the lesser steeples, tipped with the golden ball,
                         That hung like a radiant planet caught in its earthward fall,
                         First glimpse of hope to the sailor who made the harbor round,
                         And last slow-fading Vision dear to the outward bound.

                         The gently gathering shadows shut out the waning light;
                         The children prayed at their bedsides as you will pray tonight;
                         The noise of the Buyer and Seller from the busy mart had gone,
                         And in dreams of a peaceful morrow, the city slumbered on.

                         But another light than sunrise aroused the sleeping street,
                         For a cry was heard at midnight, and the rush of tramping feet,
                         Men stared in each other's faces through mingled fire and smoke,
                         While the frantic bells went clashing, clamorous stroke on stroke.

                         By the glare on her blazing tree the houseless mother fled,
                         With the babe she pressed to her bosom shrieking in nameless dread,
                         While the fire-king's battalions scale wall and capstone high,
                         And planted their flaming banners against an inky sky.

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                         From the death that raged behind them, and the crash of ruin loud,
                         To the great square of the city, were driven the surging crowd,
                         Where firm in all the tumult unscathed by the fiery flood,
                         With its heavenward pointed finger the church of St. Michael stood.

                         But even as they gaze upon it, there arose a sudden wail,
                         A cry of horror, blended with the roaring of the gale,
                         On whose scorching wings, up driven, a single flaming brand
                         Aloft on the touring steeple clung like a bloody hand.

                         "Will it fade?" The whisper trembled from a thousand whitening lips;
                         Far out on the lurid harbor they watched it on the ships,
                         A baneful gleam that brighter and ever brighter shone,
                         Like a flickering, trembling Will-o'-wisp to the steady beacon grown.

                         Uncounted gold shall be given to the man whose brave right hand
                         For the love of the perilled city plucks down yon burning brand;"
                         So cried the Mayor of Charleston, that the people heard;
                         But they looked, each one at his fellow, and no man spoke a word.

                         Who is it that leans from the belfry with face uptprned to the sky,
                         Clings to a column and measures the dizzy spire with his eye;
                         Will he dare it, the hero undaunted, that terrible sickening height,
                         Or will the hot blood of his courage freeze in his veins at the sight?

                         But see! He has stepped on the railing; he clings with his feet and hands;

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                         And firm on the narrow projection, with the belfry beneath him, he stands,
                         Now once, and once only they cheer him, a single tempestuous breath,
                         And there falls on the multitude gazing a hush like the stillness of death.

                         Slow-steadily mounting, nuheading aught save the goal of the fire,
                         Still higher and higher, an atom, he moves on the face of the spire,
                         He stops! Will he fail? Lo! for answer, a gleam like a meteor's track,
                         Ond hurled on the stones of the pavement, the red brand lies shattered and black.

                         Once more the shouts of the people have rent the quivering air;
                         And at the church door the mayor and council wait, their feet on the stair;
                         And the eager throng behind them press for a touch of his hand,
                         The unknown saviour, whose daring could compass a deed so grand.

                         But why does a sudden tremor seize on them while they gaze?
                         And what meaneth that stifled murmur of wonder and amaze?
                         He stood at the gate of the temple he had perilled his life to save;
                         And the face of the hero, my children, was the sable face of a slave.

                         With folded arms he was speaking, in tones that were not loud,
                         And his eyes, a blaze in their sockets, burnt into the eyes of the crowd;
                         "You may keep your gold; I scorn it; but answer me, ye who can,

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                         If the deed that I have done before you was not the deed of a man?"

                         He stepped but a short space backwards; and from all the women and men
                         There were only sobs for answer; and the mayor called for a pen,
                         And the great seal of the city, that he might read who ran,
                         And the slave who saved St. Michael's went out of its door a Man.

        P. S.--St. Michael's Church, Charleston, spire is nearly 400 feet high and is the highest steeple in Amreica.


        As Col. William Mallory is about to issue a new and enlarger edition of his autobiography, it may not be amiss to glance at the life and adventures of a man who has been a citizen of Hamilton for more than forty years.

        Born near Raleigh, North Carolina, William was, at the age of seven, sold to a Louisiana planter, and taken to the estate of his purchaser, below Baton Rouge. Here he remained until the year 1859, when he resolved to try to gain his freedom, and in this venture he was fortunate enough to succeed, with some assistance from the "under-ground railroad." He crossed the detroit river at Malden, and soon afterward came to Hamilton, where with short periods of absence he has since resided.

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        He has always been active in politics. His first political work was done in the days when Sir Allen Macnab sought the suffrages of the people; and he was afterwards a supporter of the Hon. Isaac Buchanan. When Sir John Macdonald announced the National Policy as that which he desired for Canada, the colonel took the stump, and, both on the platform and in other ways, he rendered good service to the cause. Since that time he has been an active worker in the political field.

        He has always been looked upon as a representative of his race. When the Prince of Wales (now King Edward the Seventh) visited Hamilton in 1861, Col. Mallory was one of the marshals; and he was a member of the committee which welcomed the Princess Louise to this city. The Princess kindly conversed with the colonel for a considerable time, and expressed her astonishment that so intelligent a man could ever have been held in slavery. Again, when the Duke of York came to Hamilton the colonel was selected to represent the colored citizens on the reception committee.

        He has sent copies of his former pamphlet to Sir John Macdonald, to Sir Wilfrid Laurier, to Sir Oliver Mowat, to the present King, to Queen Victoria and to His Holiness the Pope. From may of these he has flattering letters of thanks.

        The colonel has always been held in high esteem in Hamilton for his integrity and for the missionary work he has done for his race; and he has received many marks of esteem and recognition, among them a valuable watch from the Masonic body, of which he was the Master.

        A large number of the best-citizens of Hamilton have subscribed for the new edition of his autobiography, which is now in the printer's hands, and will shortly be issued.

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        A few days ago the Spectator called attention to the daring feat of a colored man named Mallory, who gained his freedom by saving from destruction the Cathedral of St. Michael, in Charleston, South Carolina; and it was then explained that the matter was called to the attention of Col. William Mallory, of this city, by the late Father Hinchey. It is rather singular that Father Hinchey read, almost at the same time, the poe mdescribing the Charleston incident, and a local paragraph telling how Col. Mallory had saved the life of a child in this city. This affair happened on the 12th of August, last year. A team of frightened horses was plunging down the market square, and a little girl, the daughter of John White, was in their course, when the colonel, at great personal risk, ran to her rescue, and carried her safely to the store of C. H. Peebles. That gentleman says to the colonel: "I can say that Col. Mallory snatched a child from in front of a team of horses that were running away in front of our store; and, I believe, saved her life."

        Col. Mallory has secured a copy of the poem describing the saving of St. Michael's Cathedral, and will shortly have it published.

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Colonel Mallory Rescuing the Daughter of Mr. and Mrs. John White.

Page 39


Hamilton, September 12th.

Col. William Mallory, Hamilton:

        Dear Sir,--I desire to express my gratitude to you for saving my child on August 13th. The little girl was in danger of being crushed by a runaway team, when you, at the imminent hazard of your own life, rushed in, seized the horses, and dragged the child from almost under their feet. For this heroic act I trust that you will receive your reward. I have offered you a sum of money for your good deed; but this you have refused. I can now only tender you my heartfelt thanks, ask for you the approval of your fellow-citizens and pray that the blessing of heaven shall rest upon you.



        On the occasion of the visit of the Duke of Cornwall and York to Hamilton, Col. Mallory presented to His Royal Highness a copy of his book entitled "The Key to Slavery." The Colonel has received the following gracious reply:

         "The private secretary to the Duke of Cornwall and York is desired to thank Col. W. Mallory for the copy of his pamphlet, 'The Key to Slavery,' which he has been good enough to offer for His Royal Highness' acceptance." October 12th, 1901.

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        EDITOR HERALD,--The plan as proposed by the temperance people to do away with the liquor traffic I consider entirely wrong. I have always thought so, and now I am prepared to prove it. I admit it is an unnecessary evil but we have the remedy in our own hands if we would only take it. We have asked the two Governments if they would give us Prohibition, and now they turn around and ask us if we want it. I am prepared to take the platform any day and prove my statements.




Col. Mallory Thinks That Country Most Needs the Missionary.

        Col. Mallory is in town again. He has been in the land of the free, from the slavery of which he escaped many years ago. For a long time the evangelization of darkest Africa has been the Colonel's pet scheme, but recent developments in the land where he spent his slavery days, in Georgia, have convinced him that there is no place in the world where the missionary is as badly needed as in Georgia. Hanging, without trial, he thinks, would not be tolerated even in Africa, so he purposes devoting the rest of his life to the evangelization of Georgia--and is out with a request for the needful.--Hamilton Times.

                         I had a banjo made of gold,
                         And all the strings was twine,
                         And all the tune that I could play
                         Was "I wish that girl was mine."

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10. Heavenly Land Up Yonder.

                         There's a heavenly land up yonder,
                         There's a heavenly land up yonder,
                         There's a heavenly land up yonder,
                         O when shall I get there.

                         Led Him away to Pilate's bar,
                         When shall I get there.
                         They could not condemn Him thar,
                         When shall I get there.

                         There's a heavenly land up yonder, etc.

                         Pilate says wash my hands,
                         When shall I get there.
                         I find no fault in this just man,
                         When shall I get there.

                         There's a heavenly land up yonder, etc.

                         Jews and the Romans in one band,
                         When shall I get there.
                         Crucified the Son of Man,
                         When shall I get there.

                         There's a heavenly land up yonder, etc.

                         Crucified the Son of Man,
                         When shall I get there.
                         He rose and went to heaven again,
                         When shall I get there.

                         There's a heavenly land up yonder, etc.

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17. De Massa ob de Sheepfol'.

                         De massa ob de sheepfol'
                         Dat guards de sheepfol' bin,
                         Looks out in the gloomerin' meadow
                         Where the long night rain begins,
                         "So he calls to the hirelin shepherd:
                         Is my sheep is dey all come in."--Repeat.

                         CHO.--Oh de massa guards de sheepfol' bin,
                         And he wants to know is my sheep come in,
                         And he calling, calling, calling softly, softly,
                         calling for dem all to come agadderin' in.

                         Oh den says de hirelin shepherd,
                         Der's some dey's black and thin,
                         And some dey is poor old wedders
                         Dat can't come home again.
                         "Dey is lost and good fa nuffin,
                         And the rest dey is all brung in." - Repeat.

                         Den de massa ob de sheepfol'
                         Dat guards de sheepfol' bin,
                         Goes down in the gloomerin' meadow
                         Where the long night rain begins,
                         So he lets down the bars of the sheepfol'
                         Calling softly come in, come in."--Repeat.

                         Then up thro' the gloomerin' meadow
                         Thro' the cold night rain and wind,
                         Then up thro the gloomerin' rain path
                         Where the sleet falls piercing thin,
                         The poor lost sheep of the sheepfol'
                         Dey all comes agaddering in.--Repeat.

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                         CHO.--Run, Mary, run, run Mary run, 0 run Mary run,
                         I know the other world is not like this.--Repeat.

                         Fire in the east and fire in the west,
                         I know the other world is not like this.
                         Bound to burn the wilderness,
                         I know the other world is not like this. Repeat.

                         CHO.--Run, Mary, run, etc.

                         Swing, low, chariot in the east,
                         I know the other world is not like this.
                         Let God's children have some peace,
                         I know the other world is not like this.
                         Swing, low, chariot in the west,
                         I know the other world is not like this.
                         Let God's children have some rest,
                         I know the other world is not like this.

                         CHO.--Run, Mary, run, etc.

                         Swing, low, chariot in the north,
                         I know the other world is not like this.
                         Give me the gold without the dross,
                         I know the other world is not like this.
                         Swing, low, chariot in the south,
                         I know the other world is not like this.
                         Let God's children sing and shout,
                         I know the other world is not like this

                         CHO.--Run, Mary, run, etc.

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29. My Lord Delivered Daniel.

                         CHO.--My Lord delivered Daniel, my Lord delivered Daniel,
                         My Lord delivered Daniel, why can't He deliver me.--Repeat.

                         Some say that John the Baptist
                         Was nothing but a Jew,
                         But the Bible doth inform us
                         That he was a preacher too.
                         Yes, he was!

                         CHO.--My Lord delivered Daniel, etc.

                         Oh, Daniel cast in the lions' den
                         He prayed both night and day,
                         The angel came from Galilee
                         And locked the lion's jaws.
                         That's so!

                         CHO.--My Lord delivered Daniel, etc.

30. Steal Away to Jesus !

                         CHO.--Steal away, steal away, steal away to Jesus,
                         Steal away, steal away home I ain't got long to stay here.--Repeat.

                         My Lord calls me, He calls me by the thunder,
                         The trumpet sounds within my soul
                         I hain't got long to stay here.

                         CHO.--Steal away, steal away, etc,

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32. Sinner You'd Better Get Ready!

                         CHO.--Oh! sinner you'd better get ready, ready, my Lord, ready.
                         Oh! sinner you'd better get ready, for the time is a coming when a sinner must die.

                         Oh! sinner man you'd better pray,
                         Time is a coming when a sinner must die.
                         For it looks like judgment every day,
                         Time is a coming when a sinner must die.
                         I heard a lumbering in the sky,
                         Time is a coming when a sinner must die.
                         It made me think my time was nigh,
                         Time is a coming when a sinner must die

                         CHO.--Oh! sinner you'd better, etc.

                         Heard of my Jesus, many one said,
                         To move poor sinners' sins away.
                         I'd rather pray myself away
                         Than to lie in hell and burn one day.

                         CHO.--Oh! sinner you'd better, etc.

                         I think I heard my mother say
                         'Twas a pretty thing to serve the Lord,
                         But when I get to heaven I'll be able for to tell,
                         Oh! how I shunn'd that dismal hell.

                         CHO.--Oh! sinner you'd better. etc.

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48. My Lord is Writing All the Time.

                         Come down, come down, my Lord come down,
                         My Lord's writing all the time.
                         And take me up to wear the crown,
                         My Lord's writing all the time.

                         CHO.--Oh, He sees all I do, He hears all I say,
                         My Lord's writing all the time. - Repeat.

                         When I was down in Egypt's land
                         I heard some talk of promised land.

                         CHO.--Oh, He sees all I do, etc

                         O Christians you had better pray,
                         For Satan's round you every day.

                         CHO.--Oh, He sees all I do, etc.

44. He's the Lily of the Valley.

                         CHO.--He's the lily of the valley, O my Lord,
                         He's the lily of the valley, O my Lord. - Repeat
                         King Jesus in His chariot, O my Lord,
                         With four white horses side by side, O my Lord.

                         What kind of shoes are those you wear? O my Lord,
                         That you can ride upon the air, O my Lord.
                         These shoes I wear are Gospel shoes, O my Lord,
                         And you can wear them if you choose, O my Lord.

                         CHO.--He's the lily of the valley, etc.

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45. Bright Sparkles in the Churchyard.

                         May the Lord, He will be glad of me,
                         May the Lord, He will be glad of me,
                         May the Lord, He will be glad of me,
                         In the heaven He'll rejoice.
                         In the heaven once, in the heaven twice, in the heaven He'll rejoice. - Repeat.

                         Bright sparkles in the churchyard
                         Give light unto the tomb,
                         Bright summer, spring's over,
                         Sweet flowers in their bloom.--Repeat.
                         My mother once, my mother twice, my mother she'll rejoice.
                         In the heaven once, in the heaven twice, in the heaven she'll rejoice.

                         Mother rock me in the cradle all the day,
                         Mother rock me in the cradle all the day,
                         Mother rock me in the cradle all the day,
                         All the day. all the day, O rock me in the cradle all the day.--Repeat.
                         Oh, mother don't you love your darling child?
                         Oh, rock me in the cradle all the day.

                         Mother rock me in the cradle,
                         Mother rock me in the cradle,
                         Mother rock me in the cradle all the day. - Repeat.
                         All the day, all the day, oh, rock me in the cradle all the day.
                         You may lay me down to sleep my mother dear,
                         Oh, rock me in the cradle all the day.--Repeat.

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54. Way Ober Yonder on the Hilltop!

                         There's gwine to be a glorious time by-and-by,
                         Way ober yonder on the hilltop!
                         Where the moon shines bright in the cloudless sky,
                         Way ober yonder on the hilltop!

                         At that great camp meeting we'll work no more, we'll
                         play a little tune upon the old banjo, and de bells
                         keep a ringing on the golden shore.

                         CHO.--Way ober yonder where de children am a singing,
                         And de bells dey keep ringing,
                         Way ober yonder on the hilltop.

                         Take de narrow little railroad smooth and straight,
                         Way ober yonder on the hilltop!
                         If you trabble by the broad gauge you'll sure to be late,
                         Way ober yonder on the hilltop!

                         You fashionable people with your pomp and pride, all
                         painted up and powdered and your hair all dyed like
                         the label on the bottle, you'll be left outside.

                         CHO.--Way ober yonder, etc.

                         When Gabriel blows his silver horn,
                         Way ober yonder on the hilltop!
                         Get you ready for to trabble in the early morn,
                         Way ober yonder on the hilltop!

                         But you needn't come along if you don't look neat,
                         you must throw dem worldly shoes from off your feet,
                         or dey'll never let you walk up in the golden streets.

                         CHO.--Way ober yonder, etc.