Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl | Page 5

of God?" said she. "Perhaps they
have been kindly taken from the evil days to come." Years afterwards I
often thought of this. She promised to be a mother to her grandchildren,
so far as she might be permitted to do so; and strengthened by her love,
I returned to my master's. I thought I should be allowed to go to my
father's house the next morning; but I was ordered to go for flowers,
that my mistress's house might be decorated for an evening party. I
spent the day gathering flowers and weaving them into festoons, while
the dead body of my father was lying within a mile of me. What cared
my owners for that? he was merely a piece of property. Moreover, they
thought he had spoiled his children, by teaching them to feel that they
were human beings. This was blasphemous doctrine for a slave to teach;
presumptuous in him, and dangerous to the masters.
The next day I followed his remains to a humble grave beside that of
my dear mother. There were those who knew my father's worth, and
respected his memory.
My home now seemed more dreary than ever. The laugh of the little
slave-children sounded harsh and cruel. It was selfish to feel so about
the joy of others. My brother moved about with a very grave face. I
tried to comfort him, by saying, "Take courage, Willie; brighter days
will come by and by."
"You don't know any thing about it, Linda," he replied. "We shall have
to stay here all our days; we shall never be free."
I argued that we were growing older and stronger, and that perhaps we
might, before long, be allowed to hire our own time, and then we could
earn money to buy our freedom. William declared this was much easier
to say than to do; moreover, he did not intend to buy his freedom. We
held daily controversies upon this subject.
Little attention was paid to the slaves' meals in Dr. Flint's house. If they
could catch a bit of food while it was going, well and good. I gave

myself no trouble on that score, for on my various errands I passed my
grandmother's house, where there was always something to spare for
me. I was frequently threatened with punishment if I stopped there; and
my grandmother, to avoid detaining me, often stood at the gate with
something for my breakfast or dinner. I was indebted to her for all my
comforts, spiritual or temporal. It was her labor that supplied my scanty
wardrobe. I have a vivid recollection of the linsey-woolsey dress given
me every winter by Mrs. Flint. How I hated it! It was one of the badges
of slavery.
While my grandmother was thus helping to support me from her hard
earnings, the three hundred dollars she had lent her mistress were never
repaid. When her mistress died, her son-in-law, Dr. Flint, was
appointed executor. When grandmother applied to him for payment, he
said the estate was insolvent, and the law prohibited payment. It did not,
however, prohibit him from retaining the silver candelabra, which had
been purchased with that money. I presume they will be handed down
in the family, from generation to generation.
My grandmother's mistress had always promised her that, at her death,
she should be free; and it was said that in her will she made good the
promise. But when the estate was settled, Dr. Flint told the faithful old
servant that, under existing circumstances, it was necessary she should
be sold.
On the appointed day, the customary advertisement was posted up,
proclaiming that there would be a "public sale of negroes, horses, &c."
Dr. Flint called to tell my grandmother that he was unwilling to wound
her feelings by putting her up at auction, and that he would prefer to
dispose of her at private sale. My grandmother saw through his
hypocrisy; she understood very well that he was ashamed of the job.
She was a very spirited woman, and if he was base enough to sell her,
when her mistress intended she should be free, she was determined the
public should know it. She had for a long time supplied many families
with crackers and preserves; consequently, "Aunt Marthy," as she was
called, was generally known, and every body who knew her respected
her intelligence and good character. Her long and faithful service in the
family was also well known, and the intention of her mistress to leave
her free. When the day of sale came, she took her place among the
chattels, and at the first call she sprang upon the auction-block. Many

voices called out, "Shame! Shame! Who is going to sell you, aunt
Marthy? Don't stand there! That is no place for