Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl | Page 3

was for their interest to take care of such a valuable piece of property.
She became an indispensable personage in the household, officiating in
all capacities, from cook and wet nurse to seamstress. She was much
praised for her cooking; and her nice crackers became so famous in the
neighborhood that many people were desirous of obtaining them. In
consequence of numerous requests of this kind, she asked permission
of her mistress to bake crackers at night, after all the household work
was done; and she obtained leave to do it, provided she would clothe
herself and her children from the profits. Upon these terms, after
working hard all day for her mistress, she began her midnight bakings,
assisted by her two oldest children. The business proved profitable; and
each year she laid by a little, which was saved for a fund to purchase

her children. Her master died, and the property was divided among his
heirs. The widow had her dower in the hotel which she continued to
keep open. My grandmother remained in her service as a slave; but her
children were divided among her master's children. As she had five,
Benjamin, the youngest one, was sold, in order that each heir might
have an equal portion of dollars and cents. There was so little
difference in our ages that he seemed more like my brother than my
uncle. He was a bright, handsome lad, nearly white; for he inherited the
complexion my grandmother had derived from Anglo-Saxon ancestors.
Though only ten years old, seven hundred and twenty dollars were paid
for him. His sale was a terrible blow to my grandmother, but she was
naturally hopeful, and she went to work with renewed energy, trusting
in time to be able to purchase some of her children. She had laid up
three hundred dollars, which her mistress one day begged as a loan,
promising to pay her soon. The reader probably knows that no promise
or writing given to a slave is legally binding; for, according to Southern
laws, a slave, being property, can hold no property. When my
grandmother lent her hard earnings to her mistress, she trusted solely to
her honor. The honor of a slaveholder to a slave!
To this good grandmother I was indebted for many comforts. My
brother Willie and I often received portions of the crackers, cakes, and
preserves, she made to sell; and after we ceased to be children we were
indebted to her for many more important services.
Such were the unusually fortunate circumstances of my early childhood.
When I was six years old, my mother died; and then, for the first time, I
learned, by the talk around me, that I was a slave. My mother's mistress
was the daughter of my grandmother's mistress. She was the foster
sister of my mother; they were both nourished at my grandmother's
breast. In fact, my mother had been weaned at three months old, that
the babe of the mistress might obtain sufficient food. They played
together as children; and, when they became women, my mother was a
most faithful servant to her whiter foster sister. On her death-bed her
mistress promised that her children should never suffer for any thing;
and during her lifetime she kept her word. They all spoke kindly of my
dead mother, who had been a slave merely in name, but in nature was
noble and womanly. I grieved for her, and my young mind was
troubled with the thought who would now take care of me and my little

brother. I was told that my home was now to be with her mistress; and I
found it a happy one. No toilsome or disagreeable duties were imposed
on me. My mistress was so kind to me that I was always glad to do her
bidding, and proud to labor for her as much as my young years would
permit. I would sit by her side for hours, sewing diligently, with a heart
as free from care as that of any free-born white child. When she
thought I was tired, she would send me out to run and jump; and away I
bounded, to gather berries or flowers to decorate her room. Those were
happy days--too happy to last. The slave child had no thought for the
morrow; but there came that blight, which too surely waits on every
human being born to be a chattel.
When I was nearly twelve years old, my kind mistress sickened and
died. As I saw the cheek grow paler, and the eye more glassy, how
earnestly I prayed in my heart that she might live! I loved her; for she
had been almost like a mother to me. My prayers were not answered.
She died, and they buried her in the little