<h2><SPAN name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV.</SPAN></h2>
<p><i>Character of my Indian Master.—Slavery among the Indians less
cruel.—Indian carousal.—Enfeebled health of my Indian Master.—His
death.—My escape.—Adventure in a wigwam.—Successful progress toward
liberty.</i></p>
<p class="cap">THE next morning I went home with my new master; and by the way it is
only doing justice to the dead to say, that he was the most
reasonable, and humane slaveholder that I have ever belonged to. He
was the last man that pretended to claim property in my person; and
although I have freely given the names and residences of all others
who have held me as a slave, for prudential reasons I shall omit
giving the name of this individual.</p>
<p>He was the owner of a large plantation and quite a number of slaves.
He raised corn and wheat for his own consumption only. There was no
cotton, tobacco, or anything of the kind produced among them for
market. And I found this difference between negro slavery among the
Indians, and the same thing among the white slaveholders of the South.
The Indians allow their slaves enough to eat and wear. They have no
overseers to whip nor drive them. If a slave offends his master, he
sometimes, in a heat of passion, undertakes to chastise him; but it is
as often the case as otherwise, that the slave gets the better of the
fight, and even flogs his master;<SPAN name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</SPAN> for which there is no law to
punish him; but when the fight is over that is the last of it. So far
as religious instruction is concerned, they have it on terms of
equality, the bond and the free; they have no respect of persons, they
have neither slave laws nor negro pews. Neither do they separate
husbands and wives, nor parents and children. All things considered,
if I must be a slave, I had by far, rather be a slave to an Indian,
than to a white man, from the experience I have had with both.</p>
<p>A majority of the Indians were uneducated, and still followed up their
old heathen traditional notions. They made it a rule to have an Indian
dance or frolic, about once a fortnight;
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page102" id="page102"></SPAN></span>
and they would come together
far and near to attend these dances. They would most generally
commence about the middle of the afternoon; and would give notice by
the blowing of horns. One would commence blowing and another would
answer, and so it would go all round the neighborhood. When a number
had got together, they would strike a circle about twenty rods in
circumference, and kindle up fires about twenty feet apart, all
around, in this circle. In the centre they would have a large fire to
dance around, and at each one of the small fires there would be a
squaw to keep up the fire, which looked delightful off at a distance.</p>
<p>But the most degrading practice of all, was the use of intoxicating
drinks, which were used to a great excess by all that attended these
stump dances. At almost all of these fires there was some one with rum
to sell. There would be some dancing, some singing, some gambling,
some fighting, and some yelling; and this was kept up often for two
days and nights together.</p>
<p>Their dress for the dance was most generally a great bunch of bird
feathers, coon tails, or something of the kind stuck in their heads,
and a great many shells tied about their legs to rattle while dancing.
Their manner of dancing is taking hold of each others hands and
forming a ring around the large fire in the centre, and go stomping
around it until they would get drunk or their heads would get to
swimming, and then they would go off and drink, and another set come
on. Such were some of the practises indulged in by these Indian
slaveholders.</p>
<p>My last owner was in a declining state of health when he bought me;
and not long after he bought me he went off forty or fifty miles from
home to be doctored by an Indian doctor, accompanied by his wife. I
was taken along also to drive the carriage and to wait upon him during
his sickness. But he was then so feeble, that his life was of but
short duration after the doctor commenced on him.</p>
<p>While he lived, I waited on him according to the best of my ability. I
watched over him night and day until he died, and even prepared his
body for the tomb, before I left him. He died about midnight and I
understood from his friends that he was not to be buried until the
second day after his death.
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page103" id="page103"></SPAN></span>
I pretended to be taking on at a great
rate about his death, but I was more excited about running away, than
I was about that, and before daylight the next morning I proved it,
for I was on my way to Canada.</p>
<p>I never expected a better opportunity would present itself for my
escape. I slipped out of the room as if I had gone off to weep for the
deceased, knowing that they would not feel alarmed about me until
after my master was buried and they had returned back to his
residence. And even then, they would think that I was somewhere on my
way home; and it would be at least four or five days before they would
make any stir in looking after me. By that time, if I had no bad luck,
I should be out of much danger.</p>
<p>After the first day, I laid by in the day and traveled by night for
several days and nights, passing in this way through several tribes of
Indians. I kept pretty near the boundary line. I recollect getting
lost one dark rainy night. Not being able to find the road I came into
an Indian settlement at the dead hour of the night. I was wet,
wearied, cold and hungry; and yet I felt afraid to enter any of their
houses or wigwams, not knowing whether they would be friendly or not.
But I knew the Indians were generally drunkards, and that occasionally
a drunken white man was found straggling among them, and that such an
one would be more likely to find friends from sympathy than an upright
man.</p>
<p>So I passed myself off that night as a drunkard among them. I walked
up to the door of one of their houses, and fell up against it, making
a great noise like a drunken man; but no one came to the door. I
opened it and staggered in, falling about, and making a great noise.
But finally an old woman got up and gave me a blanket to lie down on.</p>
<p>There was quite a number of them lying about on the dirt floor, but
not one could talk or understand a word of the English language. I
made signs so as to let them know that I wanted something to eat, but
they had nothing, so I had to go without that night. I laid down and
pretended to be asleep, but I slept none that night, for I was afraid
that they would kill me if I went to sleep. About one hour before day,
the next morning, three of the females got up and put into a tin
kettle a lot of ashes with water, to boil, and then poured
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page104" id="page104"></SPAN></span>
into it
about one quart of corn. After letting it stand a few moments, they
poured it into a trough, and pounded it into thin hominy. They washed
it out, and boiled it down, and called me up to eat my breakfast of
it.</p>
<p>After eating, I offered them six cents, but they refused to accept it.
I then found my way to the main road, and traveled all that day on my
journey, and just at night arrived at a public house kept by an
Indian, who also kept a store. I walked in and asked if I could get
lodging, which was granted; but I had not been there long before three
men came riding up about dusk, or between sunset and dark. They were
white men, and I supposed slaveholders. At any rate when they asked if
they could have lodging, I trembled for fear they might be in pursuit
of me. But the landlord told them that he could not lodge them, but
they could get lodging about two miles off, with a white man, and they
turned their horses and started.</p>
<p>The landlord asked me where I was traveling to, and where I was from.
I told him that I had been out looking at the country; that I had
thought of buying land, and that I lived in the State of Ohio, in the
village of Perrysburgh. He then said that he had lived there himself,
and that he had acted as an interpreter there among the Maumee tribe
of Indians for several years. He then asked who I was acquainted with
there? I informed him that I knew Judge Hollister, Francis Hollister,
J.W. Smith, and others. At this he was so much pleased that he came up
and took me by the hand, and received me joyfully, after seeing that I
was acquainted with those of his old friends.</p>
<p>I could converse with him understandingly from personal acquaintance,
for I had lived there when I first ran away from Kentucky. But I felt
it to be my duty to start off the next morning before breakfast, or
sunrise. I bought a dozen of eggs, and had them boiled to carry with
me to eat on the way. I did not like the looks of those three men, and
thought I would get on as fast as possible for fear I might be pursued
by them.</p>
<p>I was then about to enter the territory of another slave State,
Missouri. I had passed through the fiery ordeal of Sibley, Gatewood,
and Garrison, and had even slipped through
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page105" id="page105"></SPAN></span>
the fingers of Deacon
Whitfield. I had doubtless gone through great peril in crossing the
Indian territory, in passing through the various half civilized
tribes, who seemed to look upon me with astonishment as I passed
along. Their hands were almost invariably filled with bows and arrows,
tomahawks, guns, butcher knives, and all the various implements of
death which are used by them. And what made them look still more
frightful, their faces were often painted red, and their heads muffled
with birds feathers, bushes, coons tails and owls heads. But all this
I had passed through, and my long enslaved limbs and spirit were then
in full stretch for emancipation. I felt as if one more short struggle
would set me free.</p>
<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
<div class="footnote"><p><SPAN name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></SPAN> This singular fact is corroborated in a letter read by
the publisher, from an acquaintance while passing through this country
in 1849.</p>
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