It was the blood-stained gate, the entrance to the hell of slavery, It was all new to me. I had seen nothing like it before.
I saw the bloody scenes that often occurred on the plantation of which I was doomed to be a witness and a participant.
With those songs of slavery their efforts of dehumanizing us was where they took their [the masters] pleasure. I was so terrified and horror stricken that I hid.
I sung to drown my sorrow, they sung to express their happiness. By a hand more unrelenting than death, masters enjoyed the luxury of whipping the servants when they pleased.
Their horrid crime was not even submitted to judicial investigation. It was committed in the presence of slaves, and they of course could neither institute a suit, nor testify against him.
I wish I could describe the rapture that flashed through my soul when I left Colonel Lloyd’s plantation. It was a new and strange sight for me, brightening up my pathway with the light of happiness.
This kind heart had but a short time to remain such. I envied my fellow slaves for their stupidity. I often wished myself to succeeded in learning how to write.
I can say, I never loved any or confided in any people more than my fellow slaves. The thought of leaving my friends was decidedly the most painful thought with which I had to contend.
I love the pure, peaceable, and impartial Christianity of Christ: I therefore hate the corrupt, slave-holding, women whipping, cradle-plundering, partial and hypocritical Christianity of this land.
I Sincerely and earnestly hoping that this little book may do something toward throwing light on the American slave system. How I escaped it I do not know.