"Very well, but I shall look after you first."

By this time he was handling my arms, and pressing here and there on my body, I thought pretty harshly; for he either found or made some sore places. He ordered his ambulance, in which I was taken to head-quarters. As I was badly bruised, the surgeon urged me to take morphine. I was sure of not needing it, but promised to call for it if needed, and he allowed me to go without it. I found myself too lame to resume work for a couple of days; then I commenced again moderately, but carried marks of bruised flesh for a month or more.

About two weeks after this, while investigating a new arrival of a company of slaves, I learned that some of them were shot by their pursuing masters, and one woman's babe was instantly killed in its mother's arms; but the mother succeeded in pa.s.sing into our lines, with her dead child in her arms, to be buried, as she said, "_free_." A woman and a little boy of three years, with dresses torn with briers to shreds, and feet and limbs swollen and bleeding with scratches, came in, from whom I was getting her sad history. Two gentlemen pa.s.sing by, halted, and said one:

"This looks as if these would have been much better off at their old homes. Don't you think so?"

"I think this picture shows great effort in escaping from their old home," I replied.

"Do you live here?"

"I am only a temporary resident here. My home is in Michigan."

"May I ask your name?"

I gave it, and he continued:

"And so am I from Michigan. I've heard of you before, I thought this was some good Samaritan," giving his hand for a hearty shake.

"And who is this?" I asked.

"I'm Dr.----, from one of our Michigan cities. And what are you doing here?"

"I am doing just the work you see before us."

"Yes, and I saw a span of mules trying their best to kill her two weeks ago, when they came sailing down that Paradise Road up yonder; but they couldn't do it," said his guide.

I asked him what he was doing. He said he had just come to see if there was any thing he could do. I told him of the new camp on the Ralston plantation, and of this camp of four thousand. I hoped he would look after these, as we proposed to leave soon for other fields of labor below.

On March 24, 1864, I took letters to post-office, and found one from our dear friend, Addie Johnson, a.s.sistant matron of Soldiers' Home, in Columbus, Kentucky. I went to General Tuttle for an order for transportation to Baton Rouge, and, as usual, introduced myself by handing my official papers. Being a very large man, he was in proportion consequential.

"What do you want?"

I told him I would like transportation to Baton Rouge.

"I don't know," he said; "that I am here to make the Government a great benevolent society, by giving every thoroughly loyal and earnest Christian man or woman transportation."

"Is there not an order," I replied, "from Adjutant-general Thomas, granting us transportation, rations, and quarters?"

"I have received no such order personally."

I bade him good morning, and left his office, fully determined to bring him an order, although I knew he must have seen one. My purpose was to take the first boat to Vicksburg, as General Thomas was then in that city, to see whether his order was to be honored. Pa.s.sing Colonel Young's office, I called to see if he could grant the favor, and found that he could give the transportation desired, consequently I left the general without troubling him further. On my return I called at the other mission store, and met brother Burlingame and Isaac Thorne, who also wished to go below, but were doubtful whether General Tuttle would give them transportation They said they were waiting to learn of my success, and were surprised to find that Colonel Young had the power to grant it.

We took the steamer "J. H. Russell" for Baton Rouge. On March 27th Sunday morning, we pa.s.sed the mouth of Red River, where was a gun boat, from which a few prisoners were taken aboard of our boat. A woman named Crosly was also taken on board, to go to New Orleans for the purpose of exposing those who had run through our lines contraband goods. There was a woman of property and standing on the boat, who still held her household servants, and made her boast that no one could even hire her slaves to leave her.

"I'd like to see any one offer my n.i.g.g.e.rs a book," she declared. "I reckon they'd take it as an insult. They'd tell you mighty quick they'd no use for books or schools. The n.i.g.g.e.rs never will be as happy as they have been. They'll soon die out. It's fearful to see them die off as they do in these camps. They know nothing of taking care of themselves.

They are cared for by us as tenderly as our own children. I tell you, they are the happiest people that live in this country. If they are sick the doctor is sent for, and they are cared for in every way, they know nothing of care."

"If they are such a happy cla.s.s of people, how was it that you had such a time of punishing and hanging them within the last two years?" I asked.

"O, that had to be done to save our lives, because they were about to rise in an awful insurrection."

"But what would induce them to rise in insurrection, when they are so happy and contented as you have described?"

"O, there is always somebody ready to put the devil in their heads,"

was her ready reply.

But Mrs. Crosly's report was of a very different character. She said, "There has never been the half told of this h.e.l.l upon earth--the awful wickedness on these Red River plantations, where I have lived ever since I was fifteen years old. If you knew what I have pa.s.sed through, you would not wonder that there is nothing but a wreck left of me. I married a plantation blacksmith when a young girl of fifteen, and left my people in Indiana, as my husband was hired by a rich slave-holder, Mr. Samuel Lay, who lived on Red River. We lived on his plantation many years, though he used to do a great deal in ironing negroes for neighboring planters."

I told her of the slave-irons I had found on a deserted plantation, to take to my Michigan home.

"Don't let the people here know it," she said, "or they will take them from you and drop them in the river; for they bury them, or throw them in the river or creek, to put them out of sight of Yankees. When the city was taken they sent painters all over the city, with brushes and paint-buckets, to paint over all advertising signs of slaves for sale, and hid all slave-irons they could lay hands on."

I told her that was done in Natchez, when that city was taken.

"And that is just what they did," she went on, "in Vicksburg. Among the slave-irons you found, were there any of those new-fashioned gags?"

I told her that there were not.

"You ought to get some of them. If I were at home I could get you two or three kinds; but you ought to see the new gags anyhow. They are made with barbs, as they make on fish-hooks, and they pierce the tongue if they attempt to speak or make a noise. They can't live many hours with one of them in their mouths, for the tongue swells up so. Mr. Lay had an old slave woman we called Aunt Hannah whipped, and gagged with that new gag, and left her all night in her cabin; and when I opened her door her tongue was swollen out of her mouth and looked so awful, I wouldn't have known her if she hadn't been in her own cabin. I told 'em she groaned so, I reckoned she was dying, and they sent for the doctor to come and cut the barbs out, and he told Mr. Lay she would have died in an hour longer. It was a long time before she recovered from it. But as near as she was to dying, the overseer left Ben all night with that kind of a gag; and they found him dead in the morning. You of the North have no idea of the perfect h.e.l.l upon earth we've had down here. Mr.

Lay brought Alice from Kentucky, and she'd been a kitchen-maid, and never worked in the cotton-field till she came here. The overseer was a mighty hard man, and he drew that long whip of his over her shoulders so often because she couldn't keep up with the other hands, that she ran away in the bush and was gone two days before they caught her. Then they whipped her awfully, and in two or three days they drove her out in the field. Within a week she ran away again, and was gone about two weeks. They caught her with the help of bloodhounds; and when she was brought in, her arms were torn by the dogs, and I trembled for the poor girl, for I knew they'd nearly kill her. Sure enough, the first I knew my husband had her at his shop, to iron her with a full set. There was a knee-stiffener, an iron collar with a bell, and a pair of handcuffs, with a chain between to allow her to use the hoe. When I saw the heavy irons I went to the shop and begged Mr. Crosly not to iron Alice like that, for it would kill her, as she was badly torn by the dogs. But he swore at me, and told me to go back into the house, were I belonged; this was his business. I went back and cried over it till it appeared I couldn't live; and I went out again and begged him not to put on all these irons; for he knew they were heavier than the law allowed, and he would commit murder, for she could not live in this way. But he only swore at me the more. At this Mrs. Lay came out in a rage, and said she would see whether any one could come in and interfere with the punishment of any of her slaves, and ordered another slave to cut across both of her feet with a pocket-knife, through the skin, so that blood was left in her tracks. I turned away, for I thought they would murder the poor girl before my eyes; and I cried myself sick and couldn't sleep, for I thought she must die before morning. The cotton-field was opposite my window, and after breakfast I watched to see the hands go to their work; and, sure enough, there was poor Alice hobbling out into the cotton-field. They had been at work but a little while when a heavy blow from the whip-handle on the back of her head brought her to the ground. 'O, my G.o.d!' I cried, to see that overseer hit her like that because she couldn't keep up her row. I prayed G.o.d that Alice might die at once and be out of her misery; and, sure enough, they brought her out of that field dead! I was glad of it. Poor girl! she could suffer no more under their hands."

"And did not her death call forth some action from the law?" I asked.

"Nothing of the kind was ever noticed on our plantation. I tell you it was a perfect h.e.l.l on earth down here; you don't know anything about it; and yet, if these things are told, they'll deny it, and call them black abolition lies, when it's G.o.d's truth, and they know it. There was Uncle Jack, poor fellow! He ran away, and they brought him in with the bounds, after he'd been gone a week, and they made him strip and lie down on his face, and fastened his hands and feet to iron rings.

Then a man sat on each side of him to do the whipping, alternating in their strokes from his feet to his head, then back to his feet, and so back and forth until they'd given him one hundred lashes. I pa.s.sed by them, and saw his back cut up to a raw jelly, and the flesh twitched as you've seen newly killed beef. But this was not all. They took burning pitch-pine slivers and held them over his quivering flesh, dropping the melted blazing pitch from his head to his feet. After this awful torture, the two men carried him to his cabin, I thought, to die; and I had another all-night cry over Uncle Jack, He was not able to go out in the field again for two weeks."

Mrs. Crosly related many other incidents in her own experience, some of which are too shocking for the public eye or ear.

"My husband," she said, "bought two slave women, one of whom was the mother of two illegitimate children, that my children were compelled by their father to address as brother and sister. He also brought the mother to my apartments, and occupied my parlor bedroom with her for years--all to aggravate me. I didn't blame the woman Molly, for she couldn't help herself. She and I cried together over this state of things for hours, many a time. She often begged my husband to let her live a virtuous life, but it was of no use. He would only threaten to punish her. Poor thing! we felt sorry for each other, and she used to do all she could for me. I am so thankful she can now go where she pleases. She took her two children, and with the other woman went as soon as they could get through the lines. I am so glad all the slaves are free. Mr. Crosly has got our oldest boy with him in the army, and threatens to take my youngest boy of fourteen. But the Union officers say they will confiscate our property and make it over to me and my boys, so that Mr. Crosly can not take it from me."

The terrible scenes she had pa.s.sed through, and witnessed, substantiated our oft expressed opinion that unlimited power on the part of slave-owners was equally degrading to the slave-holder and to the slave. Even more: it fostered the worst pa.s.sions of a depraved nature. Her experience was no isolated one. Such cases in many localities were neither few nor far between.

On March 28th we learned, with surprise, that the bright light we saw the evening before, as we came from the soldiers' meeting, was the steamer "J. H. Russell" burning to the water's edge. No lives were lost, but all the baggage of pa.s.sengers and many mules, horses, cattle, and sheep and other government supplies were destroyed. O, how thankful we were that we exchanged boats when we did, and were safely landed here in Baton Rouge. "Bless the Lord, O my soul! and forget not all his benefits," was my first thought. How many favors are often bestowed in disguise!

At three o'clock, P. M., I attended a meeting of colored people at the Methodist Episcopal Church, which was built by themselves, and upon invitation addressed them. I spoke perhaps twenty minutes, taking for my theme Psalm cxi, 12: "I know the Lord will maintain the cause of the afflicted, and the right of the poor." At the close of the meeting the colored people gathered around us, and gave us such a hand-shaking and "G.o.d bless you" as we seldom find outside of this oppressed people.

In the evening more than a dozen came to our lodgings and spent two hours recounting the trials of their slave-life, which were of thrilling interest. O, what a bitter draught was theirs, even to the very dregs! One poor man named Henry, owned by John Reese, near Baton Rouge, for the crime of visiting his wife and children oftener than once a month against his master's command, was ordered to be nailed to a tree by his ear, and whipped until it tore out. But even more awful scenes of persecution and outrage these people pa.s.sed through, which we can not record. We closed our interview, after listening to their sad recitals, with prayer, in which all took part. A solemn season it was, to mingle our tears and voices with those who had pa.s.sed through such scenes of suffering and were now praising the Lord for freedom.

On Tuesday, 29th, we visited the general hospital in the n.o.ble asylum for the mute and blind. Of the latter there were thirty inmates. They played on the piano and sang very sweetly, and we were interested in seeing the mutes converse with each other in their sign language. One little fellow was asked by the matron to give us their name for Yankee.

He quickly pa.s.sed his fingers through each other, and we all laughed to see ourselves with such an unstable name. All seemed much pleased to receive our visit.

We found here our sick and wounded soldiers with nothing but army supplies, boiled fat pork and bread. Surgeon Pole told us they were out of other supplies. We sent immediately to New Orleans for dried fruit, crackers, etc., and within four days they came rolling in by the barrel. We left this marble-faced edifice to visit a few camps surrounding the city of Baton Rouge. By request I attended a six o'clock meeting in the chapel for soldiers at the general hospital, accompanied by Rev. Joel Burlingame and Rev. Mr. Merryfield.

On Wednesday, 30th, we spent some time in visiting and distributing tracts and Testaments, and conversing with soldiers. We also visited a colored school of two hundred and twenty-four pupils. All were much engaged in study. We were invited to address them. Sister Backus and myself complied, and it seemed gratifying to them and satisfactory to us. We returned to our pleasant boarding place, wrote a letter, and made a number of calls. We found a woman who used to sympathise with Eliza Wilson in her slave-trials previous to her escape to the North.

Through her we heard from Eliza's little girl, whom she left with her old master Bissel. A few days before she had come to her aunt, in Plaquemine, about nine miles, in the night, she heard that Yankee soldiers were in possession of that town. She had been told that a certain road led to Plaquemine, and took it in a moonlight night and found her aunt. Although she was only about ten years of age, and could not remember her mother, yet this woman said the child had heard I was going to take her to her mother, and that she was nearly insane over it. I had previously sent word to them by a soldier who was a dispatch-bearer, that the mother was very anxious to get her child if she was within our lines; and when he returned to Plaquemine he found the child and helped her to escape from Bissel with much less trouble than her mother had had seven years before.

About the close of the month we took a long walk to Fort Williams, where were three thousand sick and wounded soldiers. The scenes here were indescribable. The mingled language of acute distress, in prayer, groans, and occasional oaths from the profane, could be heard. One young man seemed too near death's door to survive. Said he: "If I die it will be suddenly, upon the amputation of this arm. It is too late for me now; but if I am spared I will seek an interest in Christ." But we had heard the cry of despair before, and could not give him up. The arm was taken off without causing instant death, as he was fearing. He then became an eager listener, and said he could now pray for pardon, and believed that the merciful Redeemer would grant the earnest desire of his soul. We found a few men, whose lives were given up by the surgeon, who were trusting, and possessed the comforting a.s.surance of a glorious future. As we were about to leave, another soldier attracted our attention, who said he was not a Christian, but wished to be, and after repeating a few promises and praying with him we left. In tears, he requested us to see him again.