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I
am
inclined
now
to
the
opinion
it
would
have
resulted
in
my
benefit
.
This
course
was
often
considered
,
but
through
fear
of
its
miscarriage
,
never
put
into
execution
,
until
eventually
my
transfer
and
his
pecuniary
embarrassments
rendered
it
evidently
unsafe
.
Afterwards
,
under
other
masters
,
unlike
William
Ford
,
I
knew
well
enough
the
slightest
knowledge
of
my
real
character
would
consign
me
at
once
to
the
remoter
depths
of
Slavery
.
I
was
too
costly
a
chattel
to
be
lost
,
and
was
well
aware
that
I
would
be
taken
farther
on
,
into
some
by-place
,
over
the
Texan
border
,
perhaps
,
and
sold
;
that
I
would
be
disposed
of
as
the
thief
disposes
of
his
stolen
horse
,
if
my
right
to
freedom
was
even
whispered
.
So
I
resolved
to
lock
the
secret
closely
in
my
heart
--
never
to
utter
one
word
or
syllable
as
to
who
or
what
I
was
--
trusting
in
Providence
and
my
own
shrewdness
for
deliverance
.
At
length
we
left
the
steamboat
Rodolph
at
a
place
called
Alexandria
,
several
hundred
miles
from
New-Orleans
.
It
is
a
small
town
on
the
southern
shore
of
Red
River
.
Having
remained
there
over
night
,
we
entered
the
morning
train
of
cars
,
and
were
soon
at
Bayou
Lamourie
,
a
still
smaller
place
,
distant
eighteen
miles
from
Alexandria
.
At
that
time
it
was
the
termination
of
the
railroad
.
Ford
's
plantation
was
situated
on
the
Texas
road
,
twelve
miles
from
Lamourie
,
in
the
Great
Pine
Woods
.
This
distance
,
it
was
announced
to
us
,
must
be
traveled
on
foot
,
there
being
public
conveyances
no
farther
.
Accordingly
we
all
set
out
in
the
company
of
Ford
.
It
was
an
excessively
hot
day
.
Harry
,
Eliza
,
and
myself
were
yet
weak
,
and
the
bottoms
of
our
feet
were
very
tender
from
the
effects
of
the
small-pox
.
We
proceeded
slowly
,
Ford
telling
us
to
take
our
time
and
sit
down
and
rest
whenever
we
desired
--
a
privilege
that
was
taken
advantage
of
quite
frequently
.
After
leaving
Lamourie
and
crossing
two
plantations
,
one
belonging
to
Mr.
Carnell
,
the
other
to
a
Mr.
Flint
,
we
reached
the
Pine
Woods
,
a
wilderness
that
stretches
to
the
Sabine
River
.
The
whole
country
about
Red
River
is
low
and
marshy
.
The
Pine
Woods
,
as
they
are
called
,
is
comparatively
upland
,
with
frequent
small
intervals
,
however
,
running
through
them
.
This
upland
is
covered
with
numerous
trees
--
the
white
oak
,
the
chincopin
,
resembling
chestnut
,
but
principally
the
yellow
pine
.
They
are
of
great
size
,
running
up
sixty
feet
,
and
perfectly
straight
.
The
woods
were
full
of
cattle
,
very
shy
and
wild
,
dashing
away
in
herds
,
with
a
loud
snuff
,
at
our
approach
.
Some
of
them
were
marked
or
branded
,
the
rest
appeared
to
be
in
their
wild
and
untamed
state
.
They
are
much
smaller
than
northern
breeds
,
and
the
peculiarity
about
them
that
most
attracted
my
attention
was
their
horns
.
They
stand
out
from
the
sides
of
the
head
precisely
straight
,
like
two
iron
spikes
.
At
noon
we
reached
a
cleared
piece
of
ground
containing
three
or
four
acres
.
Upon
it
was
a
small
,
unpainted
,
wooden
house
,
a
corn
crib
,
or
,
as
we
would
say
,
a
barn
,
and
a
log
kitchen
,
standing
about
a
rod
from
the
house
.
It
was
the
summer
residence
of
Mr.
Martin
.
Rich
planters
,
having
large
establishments
on
Bayou
Bœuf
,
are
accustomed
to
spend
the
warmer
season
in
these
woods
.
Here
they
find
clear
water
and
delightful
shades
.
In
fact
,
these
retreats
are
to
the
planters
of
that
section
of
the
country
what
Newport
and
Saratoga
are
to
the
wealthier
inhabitants
of
northern
cities
.
We
were
sent
around
into
the
kitchen
,
and
supplied
with
sweet
potatoes
,
corn-bread
,
and
bacon
,
while
Master
Ford
dined
with
Martin
in
the
house
.
There
were
several
slaves
about
the
premises
.
Martin
came
out
and
took
a
look
at
us
,
asking
Ford
the
price
of
each
,
if
we
were
green
hands
,
and
so
forth
,
and
making
inquiries
in
relation
to
the
slave
market
generally
.
After
a
long
rest
we
set
forth
again
,
following
the
Texas
road
,
which
had
the
appearance
of
being
very
rarely
traveled
.
For
five
miles
we
passed
through
continuous
woods
without
observing
a
single
habitation
.
At
length
,
just
as
the
sun
was
sinking
in
the
west
,
we
entered
another
opening
,
containing
some
twelve
or
fifteen
acres
.
In
this
opening
stood
a
house
much
larger
than
Mr.
Martin
's
.
It
was
two
stories
high
,
with
a
piazza
in
front
.
In
the
rear
of
it
was
also
a
log
kitchen
,
poultry
house
,
corncribs
,
and
several
negro
cabins
.
Near
the
house
was
a
peach
orchard
,
and
gardens
of
orange
and
pomegranate
trees
.
The
space
was
entirely
surrounded
by
woods
,
and
covered
with
a
carpet
of
rich
,
rank
verdure
.
It
was
a
quiet
,
lonely
,
pleasant
place
--
literally
a
green
spot
in
the
wilderness
.
It
was
the
residence
of
my
master
,
William
Ford
.
As
we
approached
,
a
yellow
girl
--
her
name
was
Rose
--
was
standing
on
the
piazza
.
Going
to
the
door
,
she
called
her
mistress
,
who
presently
came
running
out
to
meet
her
lord
.
She
kissed
him
,
and
laughingly
demanded
if
he
had
bought
"
those
niggers
.
"
Ford
said
he
had
,
and
told
us
to
go
round
to
Sally
's
cabin
and
rest
ourselves
.
Turning
the
corner
of
the
house
,
we
discovered
Sally
washing
--
her
two
baby
children
near
her
,
rolling
on
the
grass
.
They
jumped
up
and
toddled
towards
us
,
looked
at
us
a
moment
like
a
brace
of
rabbits
,
then
ran
back
to
their
mother
as
if
afraid
of
us
.
