Autobiography of a Female SlaveBrowne, Martha Griffith
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Autobiography of a Female Slave
Browne, Martha Griffith
African American women -- Fiction; Didactic fiction; Enslaved women -- Fiction; Kentucky -- Fiction; Slavery -- Fiction
"Well, I have, and I shall speak to her about it. Oh, there! slow, girl,
slow; you pulled my hair. Don't do it again. You niggers have become so
unruly since pa's sickness, that if we don't soon get another overseer,
there will be no living for you. There is Lindy in the sulks, simply
because she wants a whipping, and old Polly hasn't given us a meal fit
to eat."
"Have I done anything, Miss Jane?" I asked with a misgiving.
"No, nothing in particular, except showing a general and continued
sullenness. Now, I do despise to see a nigger always sour-looking; and I
can tell you, Ann, you must change your ways, or it will be worse for
you."
"I try to be cheerful, Miss Jane, but--" here I wisely checked myself.
"_Try to be_," she echoed with a satirical tone. "What do you mean by
_trying_? You don't dare to say you are not happy _here_?"
Finding that I made no reply, she said, "If you don't cut your cards
squarely, you will find yourself down the river before long, and there
you are only half-clad and half-fed, and flogged every day." Still I
made no reply. I knew that if I spoke truthfully, and as my heart
prompted, it would only redound to my misery. What right had I to speak
of my mother. She was no more than an animal, and as destitute of the
refinement of common human feeling--so I forbore to allude to her, or my
great desire to see her. I dared not speak of the horrible manner in
which my body had been cut and slashed, the half-lifeless condition in
which I had been taken from the accursed post, and all for a fault which
was not mine. These were things which, as they were done by my master's
commands, were nothing more than right; so with an effort, I controlled
my emotion, and checked the big tears which I felt were rushing up to my
eyes.
When I had put the finishing stroke to Miss Jane's hair, and whilst she
was surveying herself in a large French mirror, Miss Bradly came in.
Tossing her bonnet off, she kissed Miss Jane very affectionately, nodded
to me, and asked,
"Where is Tildy?"
"I don't know, somewhere about the house, I suppose," replied Miss Jane.
"Well, I have a new beau for her; now it will be a fine chance for
Tildy. I would have recommended you; but, knowing of your previous
engagement, I thought it best to refer him to the fair Matilda."
Miss Jane laughed, and answered, that "though she was engaged, she would
have no objections to trying her charms upon another beau."
There was a strange expression upon Miss Bradly's face, and a flurried,
excited manner, very different from her usually quiet demeanor.
Miss Jane went about the room collecting, here and there, a stray pocket
handkerchief, under-sleeve, or chemisette; and, dashing them toward me,
she said,
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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