Slave Life in Georgia - African American History
Slave Life in Georgia - African American History
Slave Life in Georgia - African American History
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<strong>Slave</strong> <strong>Life</strong> <strong>in</strong> <strong>Georgia</strong> 47<br />
any description I could give of my suffer<strong>in</strong>gs dur<strong>in</strong>g this time would convey any<br />
th<strong>in</strong>g approach<strong>in</strong>g to a fa<strong>in</strong>t idea of them. Let alone that their weight made my<br />
head and neck ache dreadfully, especially when I stooped to my work, at night I<br />
could not lie down to rest, because the horns prevented my stretch<strong>in</strong>g myself, or<br />
even curl<strong>in</strong>g myself up; so I was obliged to sleep crouch<strong>in</strong>g. Of course it was<br />
impossible for me to attempt to remove them, or to get away, though I still held<br />
to my resolution to make another venture as soon as I could see my way of<br />
do<strong>in</strong>g it. Indeed, dur<strong>in</strong>g those three long months, I thought more of John<br />
Glasgow, and gett<strong>in</strong>g off to England, than I had ever done all the time before,<br />
with such a firm purpose. I collected and arranged <strong>in</strong> my m<strong>in</strong>d all the scraps of<br />
<strong>in</strong>formation I had been able to procure from others, or that I had acquired<br />
myself; and concealed, <strong>in</strong> the trunk of an old tree, a bundle of clothes and a fl<strong>in</strong>t<br />
and steel and t<strong>in</strong>der-horn: for though my case seemed desperate, I clung to hope,<br />
with a tenacity which now surprises me. It was a blessed consolation, and only<br />
for it I must have died.<br />
Page 90<br />
CHAPTER X.<br />
I MAKE ANOTHER ATTEMPT TO ESCAPE.<br />
I OWE it to an accidental circumstance that I got rid, at last, of my<br />
uncomfortable head-dress.<br />
After wear<strong>in</strong>g it for about three months, I was set to pack corn <strong>in</strong>to a crib. The<br />
bells and horns, however, prevented me from gett<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong>to the crib, so De Cator<br />
took them off, and set them down by the side of the corn-crib, ready for me to<br />
have them on aga<strong>in</strong>. It was one Saturday even<strong>in</strong>g, and I had heard there was<br />
go<strong>in</strong>g to be a camp-meet<strong>in</strong>g a little way off. To this I determ<strong>in</strong>ed to go. I had<br />
frequently heard of these meet<strong>in</strong>gs, and often longed to attend one of them, but<br />
had never yet done so. Instead of pack<strong>in</strong>g the corn, as I was bidden, I took the<br />
opportunity--be<strong>in</strong>g now released from my bells and horns--to go to the campmeet<strong>in</strong>g,<br />
where I rema<strong>in</strong>ed all night. Whilst there I turned over <strong>in</strong> my m<strong>in</strong>d the<br />
chances I had of escap<strong>in</strong>g, and concluded the favourable time had come for me<br />
to renew my attempt. In order to throw Stevens off his guard,<br />
Page 91<br />
24.03.2006