"Yes, missus, six of us live here. I live here seven year."

I drew out the collar, and asked if any one could tell me what that was. One looked at another, and asked where I found it.

"In that pile of irons by the door," I replied.

One said, in a low tone, "Dat's Uncle Tim's collar."

"Yes, missus, dat is iron collar to wear on de neck."

"But you see it is fastened with heavy iron rivets."

"Yes, de way you see it is 'case Ma.s.sa George Ralston order Uncle Tim's head cut off to get de collar."

"I want this collar," I said, "and another heavy iron a woman called a knee-stiffener. This plantation is confiscated, and these irons belong to you as much as to any body. Will you give them to me?"

Each seemed to wait for the others to speak, but the one to whom I had mostly directed my conversation at length replied:

"I reckon you can have 'em; for we's had all we wants ov 'em."

"I thank you; and if you can find any other slave-irons in that pile I wish you would pick them out for me to take home to Michigan, to show what sort of jewelry the colored people had to wear down here."

They turned over the heap, and found iron horns, hand-cuffs, etc., and explained how they were worn. They showed me also where the iron rod upon which was suspended a bell was cut off of Uncle Tim's collar.

Among the group was a crippled man walking with two canes, clad in tattered cotton clothes, that were hanging in frozen strings from his arms like icicles. I selected a whole suit for him, and a soldier's overcoat. He stepped in the rear of a cabin and changed, and came to me weeping.

"I come to show you," he said; "dis is de best dressin' I's ever had in my life. An' I thanks you, an' praise G.o.d."

As we were standing on the bank of the river waiting for the return of the ferry on her last trip that day, there were thirty or forty men waiting, who by their favorite gray appeared to be rebel citizens; but our many bristling bayonets kept them in subjection. The ferry soon took us over the river, and we were within our post before the sundown gun was fired.

As I had brought the sick woman and two little children that Captain Howe had sent his ambulance for in the morning, in one wagon, I must go to his hospital with them. This made us so late that the guard said I could not be allowed to enter the camp without a permit from the officer of the night. I told him where I had been all day without a fire; and as he knew the storm had continued until late in the afternoon, and this sick woman whom the captain had sent for could not get through the lines in the morning, I hoped he would read my papers.

He held up his lantern to see them; but as soon as he caught sight of my old portfolio he said, "Go on, I know who you are; I've seen that before." I was permitted to leave my sick family in the hospital, and drove the two miles to our head-quarters by eight o'clock. Although very much chilled, I felt relieved, notwithstanding I had witnessed such scenes of suffering and dying during that eventful day.

One morning the little drummer-boy of twelve years of age marched into camp with seven men that he had taken prisoners, ragged and almost barefooted. The suffering men were glad to find comfortable quarters.

Occasionally we found them tamely submitting to be taken, on account of their sufferings for want of food and clothing. One entire company, who suffered themselves to be captured, told our officers if they would allow them to wear out of sight some sort of a Union mark, so as not to meet with trouble from our soldiers, they would go and bring in their entire regiment, as they all wanted to come into our lines. They were furnished with a badge of national colors to wear under their coats.

Soon the whole regiment were with us. One of our officers said they were among our most efficient helps. One of them told me if they had known the real object of the war they would never have gone into it; for more than half of them had never owned a slave, and those who did were better off without them. They were surprised to find an attendance of supplies. They had always been told that all the difference between the Northern people and their slaves was the color of their skin.

There was great excitement during the last presidential campaign. The slave pa.s.sed through terrible experiences during 1860-61. It seemed to be accepted as a settled fact, that if Lincoln was elected it would result in war; and in many places regular drills were inst.i.tuted. In Natchez the half-grown slave boys got together on Sunday afternoons, and drilled with sticks for guns. At first it attracted no particular attention, and the boys became as expert in handling their stick guns as were their masters. Two slave men were overheard repeating what their master said, that if Lincoln was elected he would free all the slaves, for he was a Black Republican; and they declared that if this was true they would go to the Yankees and help to free their nation.

This talk was sufficient to raise the report of an insurrection throughout all that part of the State, and a large vigilance committee was organized to meet once a week and report what they might hear by listening outside the negro cabins. All slave men or boys who were overheard to pray for freedom, or to say any thing indicating a desire to be free, were marked; and in the discussions of this large committee of a hundred men, every thing that had occurred during a few years past, in efforts among the slaves to learn to read and write, was magnified and construed as pointing toward a long and settled purpose among the slaves to rise in insurrection. A majority of this committee decided by whipping and other torture to compel confessions from all these marked slaves, and then to hang them. A number of the committee resigned because they would not consent to these severe measures. Many negroes were dragged out of their cabins or yards without knowing the cause, stripped, tied to the whipping-post or taken to the calaboose, and given as many lashes as could be endured. At the close of each whipping the sufferer was called upon to make a full revelation of every sentence that he or she had heard in favor of liberty, or of the Yankees, among their people, either in conversation or prayer, and by whom, with a promise to be released from further punishment. Never was one released, but on Sat.u.r.day generally ten or twelve of these sufferers were thrown into a wagon and conveyed to the gallows, where they were placed in a row, and all were hanged at the same instant.

Some hundreds were thus hanged in the edge of the city, and on an adjoining plantation. I carefully investigated the facts, and gathered the following statement from both white and colored citizens. I have good reasons for placing entire confidence in its correctness. A large number of slaves were hanged, owned by the following persons:

Frank Susetts, 26; James Susetts, 7; Dr. Stanton, 8; Dr. Moseby, 26; widow Albert Dunbar, 48; Mrs. Brady, 12; widow E. Baker, 28; Mrs.

Alexander, 16; Dr. George Baldwin, 8; Stephen Odell, 5; G. Grafton, 5; James Brown, 3; Mr. Marshall, 1; Mr. Robinson, 2; Melon Davis, 1; widow Absalom Sharp, 3; Miss Mary Dunbar, 3; Joseph Reynolds, 2; Baker Robinson, 3; Lee Marshall, whipped to death 1; Mrs. Chase, whipped to death 1; a total of 209.

I was told by a number of persons, both white and colored, that there were over four hundred tortured to death in this reign of terror, before Natchez fell into Union hands, but I put in my diary only such as I found were proven to be facts.

Miss Mary Dunbar was very much distressed over the loss of one of her three slaves who were hanged, and offered the vigilance committee ten thousand dollars for his release, but to no purpose. Joseph Reynolds also offered the committee $100,000 for the release of his two, but was denied. One little boy of twelve years of age was taken to the calaboose and whipped, then taken with the wagon-load of other victims of their unrelenting cruelty to the scaffold, followed by his mother in wild despair, praying as she went through the streets, tossing her hands upward: "O, G.o.d, save my poor boy! O, Jesus Master, pity my poor child! O, Savior, look down upon my poor baby!" The woman who went with her to the scaffold said she cried these words over and over; "and when we got there," she said, "she fell on her knees before the head man, and begged for the life of her baby. But he kicked her on her head, and cursed her, and told her the boy had got to die. The boy exhorted his mother not to grieve so for him, 'for I'm going to Jesus; meet me in heaven;' and he, with eleven others, were swung off. The mother cried out, 'Oh, my G.o.d! my poor son!' and feinted." So perfect was this reign of terror that not even slave-owners, in many cases, dared to protest against this wholesale butchery. The repeated whippings mangled the bodies of many so badly that they were taken to the gallows in a dying state. One man died while being taken upon the scaffold; his sides were cut through to the entrails, and even a part of them protruded. I visited the calaboose, which had two apartments. The first entrance was large enough for two persons to be fastened to the strong iron staples.

There was room for two men to each victim, one on each side, who, seated on a stool, could alternate the strokes upon the writhing sufferer. The floor of this calaboose was of hard wood, but it was so thoroughly stained with human gore that the grain of the wood could not be distinguished. Into the second room not a ray of light entered except on opening the middle door.

Frank Susetts was a millionaire in the city of Baton Rouge, Louisiana, and made his boast that he had no fear of Yankees, for he had gold enough to cover his front walk from the door to the gate, and could buy up any Yankee who might attempt to trouble him. "There are two things,"

he said, "they can never do: First, make me poor; second, make me take the oath of allegiance." He owned nine plantations, besides very much city property. Though hundreds of his slaves had left him, he felt himself secure in the abundance of his wealth. The government engineer, who had been casting about for the best place to locate a fort, had been looking over Frank Susetts's place and said it was the most elevated and desirable location he had found in the city, but he rather hesitated because of the magnificent buildings it would destroy. When Susetts's independent words reached his ear he at once decided, and took his men the second time to look over the ground. Standing near the palatial mansion, and within hearing of the owner, he said to his men, "Yes, yes, this is the place for our fort."

Frank Susetts approached him with the offer of thirty thousand dollars in gold if he would spare his place.

"I can not accept it, sir," said the engineer.

"I will give you fifty thousand dollars in gold if you will save it. It cost me one hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars to build this house and the out-houses."

"Should you offer all that you say it cost you, it would be of no consequence. We give you ten days to take away every thing movable from your premises, for this house will then be destroyed to make room for the fort. This is the site we have selected."

At the expiration of the time set, it was in flames. Frank Susetts and wife stood a block distant weeping. Two of their former slaves were looking at the conflagration.

"Ah," said one, "a little while ago it was ma.s.sa Susetts's time, when he had so many of our people hung; now it is G.o.d's time. Praise de Lo'd, he's here to-day for sure. Glory to Jesus, ma.s.sa Susetts's day is over; he can never have any more of our people hung."

It was now the 21st day of March, 1864. Many complained of these turned tables. Judge Bullock remarked that he couldn't even go to meeting without a "pa.s.s;" just what used to be required of the six thousand freed slaves who were then in this city of refuge. Painters were seen in various parts of the city dexterously using their brushes in wiping out standing advertis.e.m.e.nts for the sales of slaves. I saw a number of these whitewashed signs. In some cases the paint was too thin to hide them. "Slaves, horses, mules, cattle, plantation utensils sold on reasonable terms." They knew these advertis.e.m.e.nts were not agreeable to Northern eyes. But I fear the covering of many of these hearts was as frail as the thin whitewashing over these advertis.e.m.e.nts.

On the Ralston plantation we visited families, gave tickets, and directed them to meet us at the place and hour appointed. Hundreds in squalid wretchedness were supplied. The following day, in the afternoon, all orphan children were to meet us. One hundred and twenty-two ragged children came. We placed them in two rows, the boys on one side and the girls on the other. Selecting each an a.s.sistant, we commenced measuring and distributing, keeping them all standing in their respective places until we had given every one something, but yet too little to meet their necessary wants. There were at that time twenty-seven teachers and missionaries in the city representing nine States. Six day-schools and three night-schools were established by them. Two other schools were taught by colored teachers; one of these was a slave woman, who had taught a midnight school for years. It was opened at eleven or twelve o'clock at night, and closed at two o'clock A. M. Every window and door was carefully closed to prevent discovery.

In that little school hundreds of slaves learned to read and write a legible hand. After toiling all day for their masters they crept stealthily into this back alley, each with a bundle of pitch-pine splinters for lights. Milla Granson, the teacher, learned to read and write from the children of her indulgent master in her old Kentucky home. Her number of scholars was twelve at a time, and when she had taught these to read and write she dismissed them, and again took her apostolic number and brought them up to the extent of her ability, until she had graduated hundreds. A number of them wrote their own pa.s.ses and started for Canada, and she supposes succeeded, as they were never heard from. She was sold after her master's death, and brought to Mississippi, and placed on a plantation as a field-hand; but, not being used to field-work, she found it impossible to keep up with the old hands, and the overseer whipped her severely.

"O, how I longed to die!" she told me; "and sometimes I thought I would die from such cruel whippings upon my bared body. O, what a vale of tears this was for poor me! But one thing kept me from sinking, and that was the presence of my dear Savior."

Her health so far gave way that she reeled with weakness as she went to and from her work; and her master saw she was failing, and gave her permission, to go into the kitchen a part of the time.

"O, how thankful I was," she went on, "for this promotion! and I worked as hard to keep it as any Congressman could work for some high office."

At length her night-school project leaked out, and was for a time suspended; but it was not known that seven of the twelve years since leaving Kentucky had been spent in this work. Much excitement over her night-school was produced. The subject was discussed in their legislature, and a bill was pa.s.sed, that it should not be held illegal for a slave to teach a slave.

"All this time," said this dear woman, "I constantly prayed that G.o.d would overrule this to his own glory, and not allow those I had taught to read his Word to suffer, as we had been threatened. I can not tell you how my heart leaped with praise to G.o.d when a gentleman called to me one day on the street, and said he would inform me that I could teach my midnight school if I chose, as they found, no law against a slave teaching a slave."

This was accepted by that trembling teacher and scholars as a direct answer to prayer. She not only opened her night-school, but a Sabbath-school. I found more intelligence among the colored residents of this city than any other Southern city I had visited. Milla Granson used as good language as any of the white people.

We found many little incidents to cheer in all our rounds of pitiable scenes of sorrow. We sometimes met men and women among these Southerners of correct views on secession. One man said he never believed that slavery was right; all the arguments brought forward in its favor never convinced him. Although he held a few slaves by inheritance, he never could buy or sell one. His black people remained with him, and he paid them wages now that they were free by law, and he was glad of it. As he was nearly sixty years of age he had managed to keep out of the army, but had to keep quiet on the subject of secession. From the first he thought it the height of folly to resort to arms, as the Lord could not prosper their undertaking. I believe that man was a conscientious Christian; very different in spirit from Judge Bullock, who said one day in rather a careless mood, "I think you have one cla.s.s of men in your North the most despicable I ever knew."

Now, thought I, we abolitionists are going to take a blessing. "Who are they?" I asked. "They are that cla.s.s you call Copperheads. They are too dastardly to come down here and help us fight, and they are too pusillanimous to fight for their own side."

Our daily work was very wearisome, having to walk from four to six miles each day. Fresh arrivals daily required our attention, and after wind or rain pneumonia and deaths were frequent. Bible-reading and prayer were also a part of our mission. One day, while sister Backus was opening barrels and boxes, and sorting and arranging their contents in our store, I went with a load, in a recently confiscated stage-coach drawn by mules. One of the mules the colonel said he was afraid to allow me to ride after; but I thought a little mule could do but little harm with the experienced driver, and I ventured the ride, taking in a poor crippled man on the way, who was just coming into camp. He was clad in a few cotton rags that he had patched with old stocking-tops and bits of old tent-cloth, to hold them together, and it was impossible to detect the original fabric. In pa.s.sing down the "Paradise Road" to the camp in Natchez-under-the-Hill, the unruly mule pranced, kicked, and reared, until both of them became unmanageable, and the dust rolled up a thick cloud, hiding the way before us, as well as the galloping mules.

I believed that we should turn over at the short curve near the base of the hill, where was a number of large stumps; and that if we should strike one of them we should be dashed in pieces. But prayer for a guiding hand seemed in a moment to bring relief. We were overturned amid stumps, and were dragged a few rods on the side of the coach, when the canvas covering was detached from the wheels. Our driver was dragged a few rods farther, while the crippled man and myself were doing our best to crawl from under the canvas. By this time fifteen or twenty men reached us. I was out and hauling the canvas off the groaning man, whose head and face were covered with blood. I told one of the men to run for a pail of water, for I thought the poor man must be dying.

"O, no, it's all right,--it'll make me a better man," said he, while catching his breath, and wiping the blood from his mouth.

"You had better sit down yourself; you are badly hurt," said one of the men.

"O no, I am not hurt," was my reply.

But as I was getting a little child's shirt ready for the men to wash the crippled man's head, I found the front breadth of my dress torn across, and I had to throw back my bonnet to see; but I knew my limbs were all sound. Although it seemed as if we had turned many somersaults in a second, yet I never felt more vigorous. I knew the surgeon of that camp was within a few rods of us, and requested some one to go for him to care for my comrade. I saw a man carefully washing out the large gashes on his head, and I left for the surgeon, holding my torn dress-skirt in my hand. Just as I reached his office he was jumping on his horse, starting for me. He exclaimed in surprise, "Why, Mrs.

Haviland! I've just this moment got the word that you were nearly killed, and I was going to see you."

"I am all right," I said; "but I wish you would go and see to that crippled man, for I am afraid he is nearly killed."