A Narrative of the Life of Rev. Noah Davis, A Colored Man: Written by Himself, At The Age of Fifty-Four — John Shaqi
A Narrative of the Life of Rev. Noah Davis, A Colored Man: Written by Himself, At The Age of Fifty-FourDavis, Noah
Religion
A Narrative of the Life of Rev. Noah Davis, A Colored Man: Written by Himself, At The Age of Fifty-Four
Davis, Noah
Davis, Noah, 1803 or 1804-; Freed persons -- Maryland; Slavery -- United States -- Personal narratives
I was born a slave, in Madison county, Virginia, March, 1804. My father,
John Davis, and his family, belonged to Robert Patten, Esq., a wealthy
merchant, residing in Fredericksburg--who was also owner, in connection
with Mr. John Thom, of a large merchant mill, located on "Crooked Run,"
a stream running between Madison and Culpepper counties. My father was
the head miller in that large establishment, in which responsible
station he was much respected.
There I was born, and remained until I was twelve years old. Mr. Patten
was always considered one of the best of masters, allowing his servants
many privileges; but my father enjoyed more than many others. Both he
and my mother were pious members of a Baptist church, and from their
godly example, I formed a determination, before I had reached my
twelfth year, that if I was spared to become a man, I would try to be as
good as my parents. My father could read a little, and make figures, but
could scarcely write at all. His custom, on those Sabbaths when we
remained at home, was to spend his time in instructing his children, or
the neighboring servants, out of a New Testament, sent him from
Fredericksburg by one of his older sons. I fancy I can see him now,
sitting under his bush arbor, reading that precious book to many
attentive hearers around him.
Such was the esteem I had for my pious father, that I have kept that
blessed book ever since his death, for his sake; and it was the first
New Testament I read, after I felt the pardoning love of God in my soul.
My father died, August 20, 1826, aged 60 years. My mother, Jane Davis,
at the death of my father, removed from the farm, where my father died,
and spent the remainder of her days in Fredericksburg, with her
children. She lived to good old age, and fell asleep in Jesus, Dec. 24,
1831.
My father had been allowed to keep a cow and horse, for his own use; and
to raise and feed his hogs and poultry from the mill. He had the
privilege of keeping his children with him, until they were old enough
to put out to such trades as they might choose. I had several brothers
and one sister. Two of my brothers, one older, the other younger than
myself, lived with our parents, at this place. My oldest brother worked
in the mill, with my father, while my youngest brother and I did little
else than play about home, and wait upon our mother. I had several
playmates, besides my brothers, and among them were the sons of Col.
Thom, and the servant boys who stayed at his house. Although many years
have passed away since, it gives me pleasure, even now, to recollect the
happy seasons I enjoyed with the playmates of my childhood.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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