Twenty-Two Years a Slave, and Forty Years a Freeman: Embracing a Correspondence of Several Years, While President of Wilberforce Colony, London, Canada West — John Shaqi
Twenty-Two Years a Slave, and Forty Years a Freeman: Embracing a Correspondence of Several Years, While President of Wilberforce Colony, London, Canada WestSteward, Austin
History
Twenty-Two Years a Slave, and Forty Years a Freeman: Embracing a Correspondence of Several Years, While President of Wilberforce Colony, London, Canada West
I had just began to doze, when the explosion of firearms startled all in
the house. The keeper of the tavern ran up stairs in great alarm, and when
an examination was made, we found that a drunken fellow had discharged his
musket in the room below the one where we were sleeping, and that the ball
had passed up through the second floor and completely through the bed on
which I slept, to the roof, where, having passed through that also, rolled
from thence to the ground! And yet, strange as it may appear, no one was
injured, though the house was filled to overflowing with guests.
There were groups of disorderly and drunken men continually roaming over
the camp-ground at night, who seemed to have no other object than to annoy
others, and torment any one they might find sleeping, by shaking them, or,
if soundly asleep, dragging them out of their beds by their feet. Among
these thus annoyed by them was a physician from Canandaigua. Being a
passionate man, they seemed to think it fine sport to arouse him from
sleep and hear him scold. The first time they dragged him from his tent he
merely remonstrated in a very gentlemanly manner, and quietly crept back
again. The rowdies were disappointed; they had expected a "scene." As soon
as he was asleep they attacked him again, dragging him out by the heels;
then he was angry, and told them if they repeated the offence it would be
at the peril of their lives, and a third time retired to his tent; but a
third party soon came, and one, more bold than the rest, entered the tent
and laid hold of the Doctor. He sprang to his feet and drew his sword,
which he ran through the body of a man supposed to be that of his
tormentor; but oh! what sorrow and consternation possessed him when he
found he had taken the life of a quiet, unoffending person who happened
to be standing by, attracted to the spot probably by the noise of the
revelers. The unhappy Doctor was obliged to flee from his country for a
time, but after a while the shadows which had so suddenly fallen on his
fair prospects were cleared away, and he returned to his home and country.
The second day of the encampment was one of surpassing beauty. The sun
shone in all its softened radiance on that vast concourse of human beings.
The field presented a spectacle which must have been imposing to those of
more experienced vision than mine; but to me, in my ignorant simplicity,
it was superbly grand; fascinating beyond my power of resistance, and made
an impression on my mind never to be effaced.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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