Out of the Briars: An Autobiography and Sketch of the Twenty-ninth Regiment Connecticut Volunteers

I was born in Newbern, Croven St., Craven County, N. C., November the first, 1837. I was born under the regime of slavery, a free child, my mother being a free woman. My childhood was the ordinary child life, of the colored children of the South. As a mere child, I looked out upon the world as beautiful and felt that all men and women were good and kind. I did not know of the distinctions, classes, conditions and grades of mankind. But as I grew older these distinctions were forced upon my tender heart and burned into my mind. I gradually came to realize my said condition, although free, and the sad condition of my race. My father was a slave, so that in my family, I learned what slavery was, I felt its curse in my bones and I longed for an opportunity and the power to play the part of a Moses in behalf of my people. I suppose that this was the wild dream of every child born during slavery. The awful condition of my people, the steel shackles of slavery, the slave block of the market place where husbands and wives, parents and children, were ruthlessly torn apart and scattered asunder, the whipping post, the slave quarters, the inhuman restrictions, such as denial of our own religious privileges, no ministers or churches of our race, no educational advantages to speak of, no social freedom among ourselves, these were some of the unspeakable conditions of my childhood life. But there was the bright and happy side of my life when a boy. With the thoughtlessness, the happy-go-lucky spirit of the boy, I entered into those plays and pleasures which make up the pastime of youth. I recall the many boys and girls, both white and colored, who were my mates in games and pranks. Like all boys, I had my little adventures, which were not always on the side of the right. One of the first practical lessons, I believe the first, that I ever had regarding the sterling worth of my mother I most vividly recall. Together with some other boys, we were guilty of stealing some peaches. It was not the proverbial watermelon this time. Fortunately we were caught by the proprietor of the orchard. It would be fortunate if all thieves were caught. I was taken in charge. I began to cry vigorously. I was asked what I wanted done with me. I begged to be taken home to my mother. This request was granted. Soon I was facing my mother. The gentleman told her of my offense. I expected, of course, that my mother would in some way intercede and waited with breathless expectation for some defense or some excuse or some release from my awful predicament. But my heart sank within me when she said to the man, "I have no thieves in my family." So I was led away to face some fearful ordeal, I knew not what. When a boy's mother turns against him for his evil-doings, there is no hope for him. But my tears, cries and youth touched the man's heart and after leading me away from home towards the jail for a distance, he released me with some good advice. I learned in that wrong-doing that I need never expect my mother to uphold me in the slightest departure from the right path. It was a wonderful lesson and I doubt not, had a fine effect on my entire life. I recall another experience which was much more severe in a physical way. I was bound out to a white man, Jacob G. Gooding, and placed under his foreman, Henry E. Bryan. I was ordered to carry a bench some distance. Then the devil said to me, "You are not a horse, why should you be doing the work of a horse?" I said to myself, this is true. So I decided that I would not do the work of a horse. Well, he soon came to see what the trouble was and found me and the bench together. He wanted to know why I had not obeyed his orders, I told him that I was no horse, that he could get a horse and cart and have that bench taken where he wanted it.

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