herself get sick, and perish there
without assistance; and with great reluctance, and a heart swelling with
pity, as she afterwards declared, she felt obliged to leave him in his
wretchedness and filth. And shortly after her visit, this faithful slave,
this deserted wreck of humanity, was found on his miserable pallet,
frozen and stiff in death. The kind angel had come at last, and relieved
him of the many miseries that his fellow-man had heaped upon him.
Yes, he had died, chilled and starved, with none to speak a kindly word,
or do a kindly deed for him, in that last dread of hour of need!
The news of his death reached the ears of John Ardinburgh, a grandson
of the old Colonel; and he declared that 'Bomefree, who had ever been
a kind and faithful slave, should now have a good funeral.' And now,
gentle reader, what think you constituted a good funeral? Answer-some
black paint for the coffin, and-a jug of ardent spirits! What a
compensation for a life of toil, of patient submission to repeated
robberies of the most aggravated kind, and, also, far more than
murderous neglect!! Mankind often vainly attempts to atone for
unkindness or cruelty to the living, by honoring the same after death;
but John Ardinburgh undoubtably meant his pot of paint and jug of
whisky should act as an opiate on his slaves, rather than on his own
seared conscience.
COMMENCEMENT OF ISABELLA'S TRIALS IN LIFE.
Having seen the sad end of her parents, so far as it relates to this earthly
life, we will return with Isabella to that memorable auction which
threatened to separate her father and mother. A slave auction is a
terrible affair to its victims, and its incidents and consequences are
graven on their hearts as with a pen of burning steel.
At this memorable time, Isabella was struck off, for the sum of one
hundred dollars, to one John Nealy, of Ulster County, New York; and
she has an impression that in this sale she was connected with a lot of
sheep. She was now nine years of age, and her trials in life may be
dated from this period. She says, with emphasis, 'Now the war begun. '
She could only talk Dutch-and the Nealys could only talk English. Mr.
Nealy could understand Dutch, but Isabel and her mistress could
neither of them understand the language of the other-and this, of itself,
was a formidable obstacle in the way of a good understanding between
them, and for some time was a fruitful source of dissatisfaction to the
mistress, and of punishment and suffering to Isabella. She says, 'If they
sent me for a frying-pan, not knowing what they meant, perhaps I
carried them pot-hooks and trammels. Then, oh! how angry mistress
would be with me!' Then she suffered 'terribly-terribly ', with the cold.
During the winter her feet were badly frozen, for want of proper
covering. They gave her a plenty to eat, and also a plenty of whippings.
One Sunday morning, in particular, she was told to go to the barn; on
going there, she found her master with a bundle of rods, prepared in the
embers, and bound together with cords. When he had tied her hands
together before her, he gave her the most cruel whipping she was ever
tortured with. He whipped her till the flesh was deeply lacerated, and
the blood streamed from her wounds-and the scars remain to the
present day, to testify to the fact. 'And now,' she says, 'when I hear 'em
tell of whipping women on the bare flesh, it makes my flesh crawl, and
my very hair rise on my head! Oh! my God!' she continues, 'what a way
is this of treating human beings?' In those hours of her extremity, she
did not forget the instructions of her mother, to go to God in all her
trials, and every affliction; and she not only remembered, but obeyed:
going to him, 'and telling him all-and asking Him if He thought it was
right,' and begging him to protect and shield her from her persecutors.
She always asked with an unwavering faith that she should receive just
what she pleaded for,-'And now,' she says, 'though it seems curious, I
do not remember ever asking for any thing but what I got it. And I
always received it as an answer to my prayers. When I got beaten, I
never knew it long enough to go beforehand to pray; and I always
thought that if I only had had time to pray to God for help, I should
have escaped the beating.' She had no idea God had any knowledge of
her thoughts, save what she told him; or heard her prayers, unless they
were spoken audibly. And
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