not
want me to try any more to escape. But George, his wife and I continued
to discuss the matter, whenever we had a chance. We knew that Memphis
was headquarters for the Union troops, but how to reach it was the
great question.

It was Sunday, and I had driven one portion of the family to church, and
George the other. The family was now very large, as the madam and her
family were there, in addition to Old Master Jack's, and all could not
go in one carriage. On the way back, young William McGee came up through
the farm, on horseback, a nearer way home from church, and encountered
several servants belonging to some of the neighbors. He asked them what
they were doing there, and if they had passes. To this last question all
answered no. "Well," said he, "never come here again without having
passes, all of you." At this they all quickly disappeared. When Old Jack
came home, Will told him what had passed; and he immediately called for
George and Uncle Peter, the foreman, and told them that no one not
belonging there was to come into the quarters without a pass; and any
servant with a pass should be brought to the house, that the pass might
be inspected. They thought, or feared, that if the servants were
permitted to come together freely they might plan ways of escape, and
communicate to each other what they knew about the war and the Yankees.
George came out, and finding me, told me what they had said. "No slave
from outside is to be allowed on the place," said he. I replied: "If we
listen to them we shall be here until Christmas comes again." "What do
you mean?" asked George. "I mean that now, today, is the time to make a
start." So, late in the afternoon, during the servants' prayer meeting,
of which I have heretofore spoken, we thought would be a good time to
get away, as no one would be likely to see us. We talked with John
Smith, another servant, and told him all about our plan, asking him not
to say a word about our being gone until he was through feeding the
stock. This would give us another hour to advance on our journey, as the
feeding usually took about that time--from six o'clock until seven. Our
fear was that we might be overtaken by the bloodhounds; and, therefore,
we wished to get as far away as possible before the white people knew we
were gone. It was Sunday afternoon, June 26th, 1865, when George and I,
having made ready for the start for the Union lines, went to bid our
wives good-bye. I told my wife to