From the Darkness Cometh the Light | Page 4

breast, begged me to be a good girl, that she was
going to run away, and would buy me as soon as she could. With all the
inborn faith of a child, I believed it most fondly, and when I heard that
she had actually made her escape, three weeks after, my heart gave an
exultant throb and cried, "God is good!"

A large reward was offered, the bloodhounds (curse them and curse
their masters) were set loose on her trail. In the day time she hid in
caves and the surrounding woods, and in the night time, guided by the
wondrous North Star, that blessed lodestone of a slave people, my
mother finally reached Chicago, where she was arrested by the
negro-catchers. At this time the Fugitive Slave Law was in full
operation, and it was against the law of the whole country to aid and
protect an escaped slave; not even a drink of water, for the love of the
Master, might be given, and those who dared to do it (and there were
many such brave hearts, thank God!) placed their lives in danger.
The presence of bloodhounds and "nigger-catchers" in their midst,
created great excitement and scandalized the community. Feeling ran
high and hundreds of people gathered together and declared that mother
should not be returned to slavery; but fearing that Mr. Cox would
wreak his vengeance upon me, my mother finally gave herself up to her
captors, and returned to St. Louis. And so the mothers of Israel have
been ever slain through their deepest affections!
After my mother's return, she decided to sue for her freedom, and for
that purpose employed a good lawyer. She had ample testimony to
prove that she was kidnapped, and it was so fully verified that the jury
decided that she was a free woman, and papers were made out
accordingly.
In the meanwhile, Miss Martha Berry had married Mr. Mitchell and
taken me to live with her. I had never been taught to work, as playing
with the babies had been my sole occupation; therefore, when Mrs.
Mitchell commanded me to do the weekly washing and ironing, I had
no more idea how it was to be done than Mrs. Mitchell herself. But I
made the effort to do what she required, and my failure would have
been amusing had it not been so appalling. In those days filtering was
unknown and the many ways of clearing water were to me an unsolved
riddle. I never had to do it, so it never concerned me how the clothes
were ever washed clean.
As the Mississippi water was even muddier than now, the results of my
washing can be better imagined than described. After soaking and

boiling the clothes in its earthy depths, for a couple of days, in vain
attempt to get them clean, and rinsing through several waters, I found
the clothes were getting darker and darker, until they nearly
approximated my own color. In my despair, I frantically rushed to my
mother and sobbed out my troubles on her kindly breast. So in the
morning, before the white people had arisen, a friend of my mother
came to the house and washed out the clothes. During all this time, Mrs.
Mitchell was scolding vigorously, saying over and over again, "Lucy,
you do not want to work, you are a lazy, good-for-nothing nigger!" I
was angry at being called a nigger, and replied, "You don't know
nothing, yourself, about it, and you expect a poor ignorant girl to know
more than you do yourself; if you had any feeling you would get
somebody to teach me, and then I'd do well enough."
She then gave me a wrapper to do up, and told me if I ruined that as I
did the other clothes, she would whip me severely. I answered, "You
have no business to whip me. I don't belong to you."
My mother had so often told me that she was a free woman and that I
should not die a slave, I always had a feeling of independence, which
would invariably crop out in these encounters with my mistress; and
when I thus spoke, saucily, I must confess, she opened her eyes in
angry amazement and cried:
"You do belong to me, for my papa left you to me in his will, when you
were a baby, and you ought to be ashamed of yourself to talk so to one
that you have been raised with; now, you take that wrapper, and if you
don't do it up properly, I will bring you up with a round turn."
Without further comment, I took the wrapper, which was too handsome
to trust to an inexperienced hand, like Mrs. Mitchell very well knew I
was, and washed it,