James Redpath, The Roving Editor: or, Talks with Slaves in the Southern States.

[290] find in books, I tell ye. Well, I knowed dem ar cellar steps would be a long time ‘fore da sketched impairs by my fixin's. . . . . I telled de overseer “Yes, sah,” an' he went struttina ‘bout, ‘spectina every minnit to make a grab at me when I corned out. But lie did n't t'ough, bet ye.

Arter he sot down to dinner, I jist tort, dem are heels ‘longed to me, and so I jest let my legs be ‘sponsible for my heels, till da bringed me and my heels to de woods. . . . . I runned all dat arternoon, and in de nex‘ night I got whar my brudder lived, ‘bout five miles off my wife. . . . . Lizzie was a good wife to me, and I did n't know how I could leave her. Slavery asunders everything we love in dis life, God knows. . . . . Den I walked fifteen mile to my mudder's. I knocked at her winder, and tolled her I was her own Charley in great ‘stress. She corned right to de door, grieved most to def, when I tell'd her mass'r gived overseer commission to sell me. Oh! I did n't know what to do. My poor ole mudder! . . . .

I started off an' lef‘ her frettina mightily. Dat's de las' I knowed ‘bout my wife or ole mudder, or any ob my ‘lations . . . . .

I went to a friend ob mine. He was gone away. His wife knowed I was hungry, and so she ga'en me a right smart supper, and arterwards I intired. In de night her husband corned home. He mediately called me. I ‘peared. He say he knowed folks in de Dismal Swamp, and p'raps he might ‘ceed for me, an' get me ‘casion to work dar. He keeped me six days, whar I was hided away an' would n't be ‘sturbed. Den I hired into de Juniper Swamp for two dollars a month.