A Woman's Life-Work-Labors and Experiences of Laura S. Haviland Part 39

"Missus, all dat woods on dat side I helped clar off when firs' woods was thar, beech, maple an' linn wood, only now an' agin a pine. Den we work it till it wore out, an' wouldn't noffin grow on it, an' we lef it to grow up to dose pines you see."

"Is this possible?" I said. "I saw men chopping sawmill logs as I came through that wood."

"Yes, missus," he answered; "shure's you are bo'n, my sweat lies dar under dem big tree roots. My Milla an' me was married when we's chillen, an' we's had a good many chillen, but de Lo'd knows whar da's gone to; da sole down de riber, many, many year ago. But we prayed to Lo'd Jesus to take keer on 'em all dese years, an' we'll go home to glory soon."

In answer to my query as to his age, he said:

"Ma.s.sa Moses' book say I's a hundred an' five, an' my Milla's a hundred an' three. I might slip count a year or two, but I reckon not."

I never before met one couple living to this advanced age. I gave them the best new quilt I had, made by a cla.s.s of Sabbath-school girls, from eight to fifteen years of age, in Wayne County, Michigan. The names of the little girls were written on the blocks they pieced. The old man was quite blind, but he felt of it; then he exclaimed:

"Missus, did you say little white gals made this? Lo'd bless the little angels! Honey, look at dis; we's neber had sich a nice bed-kiver in all our lives."

To this she a.s.sented:

"I see it's a beauty; we's neber had sich a kiver afore, missus; tell de sweet little angels we'll pray for 'em as long as we live."

"Yes, tell 'em we won't stop prayin' for 'em when we gits up yonder, in de mansions," rejoined the old man.

It seemed to them wonderful that white girls should make such a nice quilt for black folks, and they were in an ecstasy over the surprise.

Aunt Milla could see to do considerable work in their little garden patch, that some of the younger men among them had spaded for her.

Every thing about their little cabin was neat and clean, and their clothes were well patched. Uncle Bob had been off this plantation but twice in his life; then he went to Williamsburg. It was affecting to see these old, worn-out slaves rejoicing over freedom, but it seemed to be more on account of their children and of their race. They had pa.s.sed through many hard trial but their faith was strong that they were soon going to rest with Jesus.

A colored man brought two cripples to me, in his cart, for relief and their wants were supplied. He said he wished I could see two old men who were living in the mill. One of them was an old soldier in the Jackson war. My ambulance friend took me to the old brick mill that was the first one built in that country, they said more than a hundred and fifty years ago. The roof was covered with thick moss. The cedar s.h.i.+ngles, as well as bricks, were brought from England.

I found here an intelligent mulatto man of about sixty years who had had a fever sore a little above the ankle a number of years. He was the eldest of twenty seven children. His mother had thirteen pairs of twins and he the only single child, and they were all sold to slave-dealers of the lower States.

"When my mother died in the cold cellar' he told me 'I begged to see her but my old master said he would shoot me if I dared to set foot on his plantation case I'd been with Yankees and she died one year ago without a child to give her a sip of water. My wife and seven children belong to another man who said he would shoot my brains out if I dared to come on his plantation. But I pray G.o.d to help my wife to go to the soldiers before they are all gone and get them to help her to come to me with our children. I was one of the slaves that master promised freedom, at the close of General Jackson's war and the general promised us ten dollars a month besides during service which was one year and eight mouths. There were five regiments of colored men. Some got their freedom as promised but my master and many others were more severe than ever. On my return home I reminded my master of the promise of freedom by him and General Jackson but I found it unsafe to say any thing more about it. We thought General Jackson ought to have seen the promise made good, as long as he promised freedom as well as our masters. He gave us credit for being among the best soldiers he had. But we never would have fought as we did had it not been for freedom ahead. We pledged ourselves to each other, that we never would fight for white folks again, unless we knew our freedom was sure. And never would our people have gone into this war had it not been for the Proclamation of Emanc.i.p.ation from the President of the whole United States."

This man was the most intelligent and used the best language of any colored person of his age I met in this portion of Virginia. His mother's name was Maria Sampson. She lived and died in King William County, Virginia. There were twenty sons and seven daughters of her own. Yet, through wicked enactments, her master tore from her every one, and claimed her own body besides, as a valuable piece of property.

My next visit was to an old brick kitchen. In the "loft," lived two aged sisters of seventy-five and eighty years, whose youngest brother, of about sixty years, was insane. His sisters said about twenty years ago he "lost his mind." His wife and children were all sold from him down the river, and he grieved so long over it, he lost his mind, and never came right since. As I entered, I took him by the hand and inquired for the aged women in that house; he pointed to the stairway.

As I was going up the stairs, he danced to and fro, slapping his hands, "Glory, hallelujah to the Lamb!" I paused to look at him. His sisters met me at the head of the stairs, and said, "Don't mind him, he has no mind, and is rejoicin' to see a white woman come up these stairs, for it's a new thing. I reckon there hain't been a white woman up here more'n twenty year, an' he don't know how to tell his gladness.". They said he was good to bring them wood and water, and take care of himself in was.h.i.+ng and patching his own clothes. I presented him a suit, and when he found they would fit him, the dancing and singing were resumed.

I should judge from the history his sisters gave of him, and from his high forehead, that he had been a man of more than ordinary talent.

These sisters, too, had been made widows and childless by slavery's cruel hand. This I found to be the hard lot of all these old people.

They told me of many cruel over-seers, that would take the life of a slave, to get their names up as "boss overseers." I told them I had heard of instances where an overseer was missing occasionally. One old man dropped his head, then looking up said, in a hesitating manner, "I's knowed that in my time, but ma.s.sar keep it mighty still, an' say de overseer runned away, an' he git one right soon agin." I talked and read, and offered prayer with these stripped and lonely ones.

During my three weeks' stay in Williamsburg, Fort Magruder, and vicinity, I had a number of meetings with these newly freed slaves, three of them in those old slave-pens in which were large schools taught.

I took a stroll through the old graveyard which surrounded the old ivy-covered church. The marble slabs were mostly in a horizontal position, with quaint inscriptions. In these J, or I, was often found in place of the figure 1. The spelling, too, we should call badly warped. I copied a few of the epitaphs, as follows:

Here lyes the Body of Mr John Collett, who departed this life February 24th, 1794, aged 52 years

Sacred to the memory of James Nicholson, late stuard of William and Mary College. Was born in the Town of Invenck, North Britton, ano 1711, died the 22nd of January, 1773. Frugality--industry, and simplicity of manners and independence of Soul Adorned his character and procured universal esteem.

READER, Learn from this example as the most exalted Station may be debased by vice, so there is no situation in life on which virtue will not confer DIGNITY.

Mrs. Catharine Stephenson died April 22; born in Nottinghams.h.i.+re, 1778.

Her body now slumbers along with the dead;

Her Savior hath called, to him she has gone, Be ye also ready to follow her soon.

Under this marble lieth the body of Thomas Ludwell, Esq., Secretary of Virginia, who was born at Britton in of Summerset in the kingdom of England, and departed this life in the year 1678; and near this place lye the bodies of Richard Kerdp, Esq, his predecessor in ye Secretary's office and Sr.

Thomas Lunsford, Kt., in memory of whom this marble is placed by order of Philip Ludwell, Esq., nephew of the said Thomas Ludwell, in the year 1727.

As Yorktown was an important post, after three weeks' work in this section, I repaired to that ancient place. There I found two large camps. A few large freedmen's schools were established under the auspices of Philadelphia Friends, and of these Jacob Vining had supervision. Two others were under the supervision of the American Missionary a.s.sociation. Both were doing a n.o.ble work for these people, who were like hungry children, grasping at the food handed them by these Christian teachers.

We had a very large meeting in the old barracks fitted up for school and meetings. There were more than could get inside, and groups stood at the door and outside the windows. Here I met two young men who had walked all the way from beyond Fort Magruder, eighteen miles, to attend this meeting. They were more intelligent than the larger portion of life-long slaves. They were encouraged in the future prospect of freedom. They said the white people declared they would soon have all their slaves back again, the same as they had before the war. Said one, "They talk it so strong it makes us trimble. For we-uns think they'd be harder on us than ever." I told them to look at that strong fort built by Confederates, which they had said "all the Yankees of the North could never take." "And where is it now?" I said. "You may rest a.s.sured it will be as I repeated to-day, 'Except the Lord keep the city the watchman walketh but in vain; except the Lord build the house they labor in vain who build it.' The Lord will never permit the house of bondage to be rebuilt, for the cup of our nation's wickedness has been filled to the brim. They will never again barter for paltry gold the bodies and souls of those whom Christ died to redeem with his own precious blood. No, never." They wept, while talking over the past, with new hopes before them of their future. They said they were well paid for their long walk, though they should work the next day with blistered feet. They were working for their old owner, as he had promised to pay them. They had sometimes felt fearful as to the final result of this war. If there were doubts, they would go as far North as they could while they were enjoying their present liberty.

A number lingered to talk with me on the prospect of freedom or slavery for them, telling me of the positive expressions of their former masters, and of their threats of having them all back again within a few months. They wanted to know what the prospect was in Was.h.i.+ngton.

"Do you think we are sure to come out of the wilderness?" said one.

"Will this sun of freedom, now peepin' troo de black cloud, come cl'ar out, an' make a bright day?" said another.

I found many of these people in trouble, because they saw plainly the old slave spirit reviving, and they were trembling with fear; but others had stronger faith. There was one poor woman, whose husband and four children were sold to a trader, to be taken down the river in a gang. When the news came to her master's home that Richmond had fallen, she said:

"Missus an' all was cryin', and say da catch Jeff. Davis. An' I hurried de supper on de table; an' I say, Missus, can Dilla wait on table till I go to de bush-spring an' git a bucket o' cool water?' She say, 'Hurry, Mill; an' I seed 'em all down to table afore I starts. Den I walks slow till I git out o' sight, when I runn'd wid all my might till I git to de spring, an' look all 'round, an' I jump up an' scream, 'Glory, glory, hallelujah to Jesus! I's free! I's free! Glory to G.o.d, you come down an' free us; no big man could do it.' An' I got sort o'

scared, afeared somebody hear me, an' I takes another good look, an'

fall on de groun', an' roll over, an' kiss de groun' fo' de Lord's sake, I's so full o' praise to Ma.s.sar Jesus. He do all dis great work.

De soul buyers can neber take my two chillen lef' me; no, neber can take 'em from me no mo';" and the tears fell thick and fast as she told me how she clung to her husband, then to her children, as the trader took them to the slave-pen to lock up till they were ready to start for the river. Her mistress ordered her to be whipped because she cried so long for her husband and children. I did not wonder at her ecstasy.

A poor old slave, called Aunt Sally, came to me April 15th; crippled with rheumatism, and walking as well as she could with two canes. She asked for a blanket or quilt, saying that one old blanket had been her only bed for seven years. I told her I should pa.s.s her home the next day, and would bring her some things. She said, "I mus' hurry back, or missus will fin' me out. You gib 'em to the man choppin' wood in de yard; he'll put 'em in de cellar for me. Missus is mighty hard on you alls;" and she hobbled back as fast as she could with two canes. But her mistress found out that she had been to see me, and told her she should never set her foot inside her yard again, neither should a Yankee. The day following I took a package for Aunt Sally, containing a straw bed-tick, quilt, blanket, and a good suit of clothes; for I had learned that Mrs. Pendleton, the daughter of ex-President Taylor, was a hard mistress. Aunt Sally had served her father, and helped bring up his children, and was now seventy-five or eighty years old. From the cold, damp cellar, with only one blanket to cover her, she had become badly crippled, and was left to die, like an old worn-out horse.

The colored man near the fence of the back yard told me I would find Aunt Sally in a little cabin he pointed out, with two old colored people. I found her crying. She said her mistress had turned her out, and told her she should never come inside her yard, nor eat a kernel of the corn that she had planted in ground all spaded by herself, and it was growing so nice. The old people very kindly offered to share with her. He was a cobbler, and made all he could, but he said they had but one bed. I furnished one for her, and gave the old people a quilt and a few needed garments for their kindness to Aunt Sally. They, too, had been stripped of all their large family, as well as Aunt Sally of hers.

As I pa.s.sed Mrs. Pendleton's front yard I saw a large bloodhound on the door-step as sentinel. Even a look at him from the street brought a threatening growl.

Here, too, were William and Phillis Davis, over eighty years of age, they think. They had fourteen children, "all sold down the river," they said, "except those we's got in heaven. We's glad they's safe, an' we trus' de jubilee trumpet will retch their ears, way down Souf, we don't know whar. We's cried for freedom many years, an' it come at last,"

said the old, tottering man.

Eva Mercer, over seventy five years of age, had a large family. Her husband and all her children were sold twenty years ago. She has been left to perish alone, and had had no underclothes for seven years. She was supplied, and made more comfortable than she had been for years.

David Cary, one hundred years old, in great suffering, was relieved.

He, too, had a large family. Three wives were sold from him, and his children, one, two, and three at a time, were sent down the river, never to be heard from again. He said he forgot a great many things every day, "but I can never forget the grief I pa.s.sed through in parting with my good wives and chillens."

Pross Tabb, ninety years old, was turned out of his cabin, and came to the captain crying. He said, "Ma.s.sar Tabb turn me out to die by de roadside. I begged him to let me build me a cabin in de woods, and he say if I cut a stick in his woods he'll shoot me." The captain informed J. P. Tabb that he would violate the martial law, and be fined and imprisoned, if he turned that old man out of his cabin, where he had lived and served him many years. The poor lone man was permitted to remain. J. P. Tabb owned twelve thousand acres of land, and had called himself master of one hundred and sixty slaves; now all had left him.

Sunday, May 3d, was a beautiful Sabbath. In the morning I attended service at the school-house, conducted by a Baptist minister, who examined nine new converts. Among them was a little girl, Susan Monroe, eight years old. The preacher asked her, "What have you got to say 'bout Jesus, sis?"

"He tuck de han' cuffs off my han's," she replied, "an' de spancels off my feet, an' Jesus made me free."

With a few other satisfactory answers he pa.s.sed to the next, a man of forty, perhaps: "And what have you to tell us?"

"It 'peared," he said, "like I's so heavy here, on my heart. I could do nuffin but groan, 'Ma.s.sar Jesus have pity on poor me;' an' as I was a walkin' 'long de road, he c.u.m sure, an' poured hisself all over me, an'

cover over my han's an' my feet, an' made me all over new. I say is dis me? Glory, hallalujah! dis is me. I went on an' met sis Molly. 'What's de matter o' me? it's all full tide here,' I says. 'Why honey,' she answered, 'you's got 'ligion; praise de Lord! Now keep de pure stuff, don't trade it off for de devil.' An' by de help o' de Lord, I don't do any sich tradin'."