A Slave Girl's Story: Being an Autobiography of Kate Drumgoold. — John Shaqi
A Slave Girl's Story: Being an Autobiography of Kate Drumgoold.Drumgoold, Kate
Religion
A Slave Girl's Story: Being an Autobiography of Kate Drumgoold.
Drumgoold, Kate
Drumgoold, Kate; Enslaved persons -- United States -- Biography
I shall always remember my dear white mother, of whom I spoke of in the
first part, and whom I shall call your attention to in many more pages
of this little Life Book, and shall always remember her with love and
the kindest feeling. She was a member of the true Methodist Church and
was never seen by her darling child from the House of God since I could
remember, for I was with her at all times on the family horse, Kimble,
and when I got large enough to ride alone she bought me a fine black
that had all the metal that a horse could have, and his name was Charlie
Engrum, and she paid a large price for him, and he was the grandest
horse I ever saw, and it was my delight to be near a horse or horses
when I was a child, for I did not have any fear of any kind of horse,
and I would take a ride the first thing in the morning, even before I
would have my breakfast, and my dear white mother would save it for me
as she knew that I would have that ride first; for it always made her
feel proud to see how well I had learned to ride, and she was the one
that had taught me how to ride, for she had me on the horse when I was
three years old and from that time until she went home to come out no
more forever.
I was two and a half years, as near as I can remember, when my own slave
mother's house was burned to the ground, and I shall never forget that
Saturday night. My mother's husband had gone to a dance and mother was
there alone with her little ones, and we all came near getting burned
up. We were all asleep when I awoke and found the house in a blaze. I
did not know enough or I was so much scared that I did not call to my
mother, but I think that she heard me when I rolled out of the bed, and
she was out of the bed quick as could be and getting the feather beds
she threw them out of the door and got the children and threw them out,
and she, finding that she did not have them all, said, "My God! I have
not all of my little ones;" and she ran in the house to look and she
found me under the bed, for I saw so much fire that I was getting out of
it, and God be praised that I was saved from that fire, and I have not
had the time to run after any fires since, for that fire was all the
fire I want.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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