s forty years ago was
different from what it was twenty years ago. Time seemed to soften the
hearts of master and mistress, and to insure kinder and more humane
treatment to bondsmen and bondswomen. When I was quite a child, an
incident occurred which my mother afterward impressed more strongly on
my mind. One of my uncles, a slave of Colonel Burwell, lost a pair of
ploughlines, and when the loss was made known the master gave him a new
pair, and told him that if he did not take care of them he would punish
him severely. In a few weeks the second pair of lines was stolen, and my
uncle hung himself rather than meet the displeasure of his master. My
mother went to the spring in the morning for a pail of water, and on
looking up into the willow tree which shaded the bubbling crystal
stream, she discovered the lifeless form of her brother suspended
beneath one of the strong branches. Rather than be punished the way
Colonel Burwell punished his servants, he took his own life. Slavery had
its dark side as well as its bright side.

CHAPTER II

GIRLHOOD AND ITS SORROWS

I must pass rapidly over the stirring events of my early life. When I
was about fourteen years old I went to live with my master's eldest son,
a Presbyterian minister. His salary was small, and he was burdened with
a helpless wife, a girl that he had married in the humble walks of life.
She was morbidly sensitive, and imagined that I regarded her with
contemptuous feelings because she was of poor parentage. I was their
only servant, and a gracious loan at that. They were not able to buy me,
so my old master sought to render them assistance by allowing them the
benefit of my services. From the very first I did the work of three
servants, and yet I was scolded and regarded with distrust. The years
passed slowly, and I continued to serve them, and at the same time grew
into strong, healthy womanhood. I was nearly eighteen when we removed
from Virginia to Hillsboro', North Carolina, where young Mr. Burwell
took charge of a church. The salary was small, and we still had to
practise the closest economy. Mr. Bingham, a hard, cruel man, the
village schoolmaster, was a member of my young master's church, and he
was a frequent visitor to the parsonage. She whom I called mistress
seemed to be desirous to wreak vengeance on me for something, and
Bingham became her ready tool. During this time my master was unusually
kind to me; he was naturally a good-hearted man