Memories of Childhoods Slavery Days | Page 2

on the plantation, one of
the big boys got a little brandy and gave us children all a drink, enough
to make us drunk. Four doctors were sent for, but nobody could tell
what was the matter with us, except they thought we had eaten
something poisonous. They wanted to give us some castor oil, but we
refused to take it, because we thought that the oil was made from the
bones of the dead men we had seen. Finally, we told about the big
white boy giving us the brandy, and the mystery was cleared up.
Young as I was then, I remember this conversation between master and
mistress, on master's return from the gate one day, when he had
received the latest news: "William, what is the news from the seat of
war?" "A great battle was fought at Bull Run, and the Confederates
won," he replied. "Oh, good, good," said mistress, "and what did Jeff
Davis say?" "Look out for the blockade. I do not know what the end
may be soon," he answered. "What does Jeff Davis mean by that?" she
asked. "Sarah Anne, I don't know, unless he means that the niggers will
be free." "O, my God, what shall we do?" "I presume," he said, "we
shall have to put our boys to work and hire help." "But," she said,
"what will the niggers do if they are free? Why, they will starve if we
don't keep them." "Oh, well," he said, "let them wander, if they will not
stay with their owners. I don't doubt that many owners have been good
to their slaves, and they would rather remain with their owners than
wander about without home or country."
My mistress often told me that my father was a planter who owned a
plantation about two miles from ours. He was a white man, born in
Liverpool, England. He died in Lewisville, Alabama, in the year 1875.

I will venture to say that I only saw my father a dozen times, when I
was about four years old; and those times I saw him only from a
distance, as he was driving by the great house of our plantation.
Whenever my mistress saw him going by, she would take me by the
hand and run out upon the piazza, and exclaim, "Stop there, I say!
Don't you want to see and speak to and caress your darling child? She
often speaks of you and wants to embrace her dear father. See what a
bright and beautiful daughter she is, a perfect picture of yourself. Well,
I declare, you are an affectionate father." I well remember that
whenever my mistress would speak thus and upbraid him, he would
whip up his horse and get out of sight and hearing as quickly as
possible. My mistress's action was, of course, intended to humble and
shame my father. I never spoke to him, and cannot remember that he
ever noticed me, or in any way acknowledged me to be his child.
My mother and my mistress were children together, and grew up to be
mothers together. My mother was the cook in my mistress's household.
One morning when master had gone to Eufaula, my mother and my
mistress got into an argument, the consequence of which was that my
mother was whipped, for the first time in her life. Whereupon, my
mother refused to do any more work, and ran away from the plantation.
For three years we did not see her again.
Our plantation was one of several thousand acres, comprising large
level fields, upland, and considerable forests of Southern pine. Cotton,
corn, sweet potatoes, sugar cane, wheat, and rye were the principal
crops raised on the plantation. It was situated near the P---- River, and
about twenty-three miles from Clayton, Ala.
One day my master heard that the Yankees were coming our way, and
he immediately made preparations to get his goods and valuables out of
their reach. The big six-mule team was brought to the smoke-house
door, and loaded with hams and provisions. After being loaded, the
team was put in the care of two of the most trustworthy and valuable
slaves that my master owned, and driven away. It was master's
intention to have these things taken to a swamp, and there concealed in
a pit that had recently been made for the purpose. But just before the

team left the main road for the by-road that led to the swamp, the two
slaves were surprised by the Yankees, who at once took possession of
the provisions, and started the team toward Clayton, where the Yankees
had headquarters. The road to Clayton ran past our plantation. One of
the slave children happened to look up the road, and saw the Yankees
coming, and gave