My
father was a slave to a near neighbor. The apartment where I was born and
where I spent my childhood and youth was called "the kitchen," situated
some fifteen or twenty rods from the "great house." Here the house
servants lodged and lived, and here the meals were prepared for the people
in the mansion.
[Footnote A: 175 whites--207 free people of color--and 2,244 slaves. Total
3,626; according to the census of 1840.]
On the 30th of May, 1803, I was ushered into the world; but I did not
begin to see the rising of its dark clouds, nor fancy how they might be
broken and dispersed, until some time afterwards. My infancy was spent
upon the floor, in a rough cradle, or sometimes in my mother's arms. My
early boyhood in playing with the other boys and girls, colored and white,
in the yard, and occasionally doing such little matters of labor as one of
so young years could. I knew no difference between myself and the white
children; nor did they seem to know any in turn. Sometimes my master would
come out and give a biscuit to me, and another to one of his own white
boys; but I did not perceive the difference between us.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25