Sheppard Lee, Written by Himself. Vol. 2 (of 2)Bird, Robert Montgomery
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Sheppard Lee, Written by Himself. Vol. 2 (of 2)
Bird, Robert Montgomery
American fiction -- 19th century; Satire
one hand, and a peeled beechen wand by way of cane in the other, I went
stalking over the fields to church in the little village, near to which
my master resided.
I say again, I cannot account for my being so contented with bondage.
It may be, however, that there is nothing necessarily adverse to
happiness in slavery itself, unaccompanied by other evils; and that
when the slave is ground by no oppression and goaded by no cruelty, he
is not apt to repine or moralize upon his condition, nor to seek for
those torments of sentiment which imagination associates with the idea
of slavery in the abstract.
Of one thing, at least, I can be very certain. I never had so easy and
idle a time of it in my whole life. My little master Tommy had grown
very fond of me. It is strange anybody should be fond of a slave; but
it is true. It appears I was what they call a mere field-hand, that
is, a labourer, and quite unfit for domestic service. Nevertheless, to
please Tommy, I was taken from the tobacco-fields, and, without being
appointed to any peculiar duty about the house, was allowed to do what
I pleased, provided I made myself sufficiently agreeable to young
master. So I made him tops, kites, wind-mills, corn-stalk fiddles, and
little shingle ships with paper sails, gave him a trot every now and
then on my back, and had, in return, a due share of his oranges and
gingerbread.
In this way my time passed along more agreeably than I can describe. My
little master, it is true, used to fall into a passion and thump me now
and then; but that I held to be prime fun; particularly as,--provided
I chose to blubber a little, and pretend to be hurt,--the little rogue
would relent, and give me all the goodies he could beg, borrow, or
steal, to "make up with me," as he called it.
Little Tommy and his sisters, four in number, were the children of my
master by a second wife, who had died two years before. The oldest was
the young lady of whom I have already spoken, and she was, I believe,
not above seventeen. Her name was Isabella, and she was uncommonly
handsome. A young gentleman of the neighbourhood, named Andrews, was
paying court to her. Indeed, she had a great many admirers, and there
was much company came to see her.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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