I have now reached a period of my life when I can give dates. I left
Baltimore, and went to live with Master Thomas Auld, at St. Michael's,
in March, 1832. It was now more than seven years since I lived with him
in the family of my old master, on Colonel Lloyd's plantation. We of
course were now almost entire strangers to each other. He was to me a
new master, and I to him a new slave. I was ignorant of his temper and
disposition; he was equally so of mine. A very short time, however,
brought us into full acquaintance with each other. I was made acquainted
with his wife not less than with himself. They were well matched, being
equally mean and cruel. I was now, for the first time during a space
of more than seven years, made to feel the painful gnawings of hunger--a
something which I had not experienced before since I left Colonel
Lloyd's plantation. It went hard enough with me then, when I could look
back to no period at which I had enjoyed a sufficiency. It was tenfold
harder after living in Master Hugh's family, where I had always had
enough to eat, and of that which was good. I have said Master Thomas was
a mean man. He was so. Not to give a slave enough to eat, is regarded as
the most aggravated development of meanness even among slaveholders. The
rule is, no matter how coarse the food, only let there be enough of it.
This is the theory; and in the part of Maryland from which I came, it
is the general practice,--though there are many exceptions. Master Thomas
gave us enough of neither coarse nor fine food. There were four slaves
of us in the kitchen--my sister Eliza, my aunt Priscilla, Henny, and
myself; and we were allowed less than a half of a bushel of corn-meal
per week, and very little else, either in the shape of meat or
vegetables. It was not enough for us to subsist upon. We were therefore
reduced to the wretched necessity of living at the expense of our
neighbors. This we did by begging and stealing, whichever came handy in
the time of need, the one being considered as legitimate as the other.
A great many times have we poor creatures been nearly perishing
with hunger, when food in abundance lay mouldering in the safe and
smoke-house, and our pious mistress was aware of the fact; and yet that
mistress and her husband would kneel every morning, and pray that God
would bless them in basket and store!

Bad as all slaveholders are, we seldom meet one destitute of every
element of character commanding respect. My master was one of this rare
sort. I do not know of one single noble act ever performed by him. The
leading trait in his character was meanness; and if there were any other
element in his nature, it was made subject to this. He was mean; and,
like most other mean men, he lacked the ability to conceal his meanness.
Captain Auld was not born a slaveholder. He had been a poor man, master
only of a Bay craft. He came into possession of all his slaves by
marriage; and of all men, adopted slaveholders are the worst. He was
cruel, but cowardly. He commanded without firmness. In the enforcement
of his rules, he was at times rigid, and at times lax. At times, he
spoke to his slaves with the firmness of Napoleon and the fury of a
demon; at other times, he might well be mistaken for an inquirer who
had lost his way. He did nothing of himself. He might have passed for a
lion, but for his ears. In all things noble which he attempted, his own
meanness shone most conspicuous. His airs, words, and actions, were the
airs, words, and actions of born slaveholders, and, being assumed, were
awkward enough. He was not even a good imitator. He possessed all the
disposition to deceive, but wanted the power. Having no resources within
himself, he was compelled to be the copyist of many, and being such, he
was forever the victim of inconsistency; and of consequence he was an
object of contempt, and was held as such even by his slaves. The luxury
of having slaves of his own to wait upon him was something new and
unprepared for. He was a slaveholder without the ability to hold slaves.
He found himself incapable of managing his slaves either by force,
fear, or fraud. We seldom called him "master;" we generally called him
"Captain Auld," and were hardly disposed to title him at all. I doubt
not that our conduct had much to do with making him appear awkward,
and of consequence fretful. Our want of reverence for him must have
perplexed him greatly. He wished to have us call him master, but lacked
the firmness necessary to command us to do so. His wife used to insist
upon our calling him so, but to no purpose. In August, 1832, my master
attended a Methodist camp-meeting held in the Bay-side, Talbot county,
and there experienced religion. I indulged a faint hope that his
conversion would lead him to emancipate his slaves, and that, if he did
not do this, it would, at any rate, make him more kind and humane. I was
disappointed in both these respects. It neither made him to be humane
to his slaves, nor to emancipate them. If it had any effect on his
character, it made him more cruel and hateful in all his ways; for I
believe him to have been a much worse man after his conversion than
before. Prior to his conversion, he relied upon his own depravity
to shield and sustain him in his savage barbarity; but after his
conversion, he found religious sanction and support for his slaveholding
cruelty. He made the greatest pretensions to piety. His house was
the house of prayer. He prayed morning, noon, and night. He very
soon distinguished himself among his brethren, and was soon made a
class-leader and exhorter. His activity in revivals was great, and he
proved himself an instrument in the hands of the church in converting
many souls. His house was the preachers' home. They used to take great
pleasure in coming there to put up; for while he starved us, he stuffed
them. We have had three or four preachers there at a time. The names
of those who used to come most frequently while I lived there, were Mr.
Storks, Mr. Ewery, Mr. Humphry, and Mr. Hickey. I have also seen Mr.
George Cookman at our house. We slaves loved Mr. Cookman. We believed
him to be a good man. We thought him instrumental in getting Mr. Samuel
Harrison, a very rich slaveholder, to emancipate his slaves; and by some
means got the impression that he was laboring to effect the emancipation
of all the slaves. When he was at our house, we were sure to be called
in to prayers. When the others were there, we were sometimes called in
and sometimes not. Mr. Cookman took more notice of us than either of
the other ministers. He could not come among us without betraying his
sympathy for us, and, stupid as we were, we had the sagacity to see it.

While I lived with my master in St. Michael's, there was a white
young man, a Mr. Wilson, who proposed to keep a Sabbath school for the
instruction of such slaves as might be disposed to learn to read the New
Testament. We met but three times, when Mr. West and Mr. Fairbanks,
both class-leaders, with many others, came upon us with sticks and other
missiles, drove us off, and forbade us to meet again. Thus ended our
little Sabbath school in the pious town of St. Michael's.

I have said my master found religious sanction for his cruelty. As an
example, I will state one of many facts going to prove the charge.
I have seen him tie up a lame young woman, and whip her with a heavy
cowskin upon her naked shoulders, causing the warm red blood to drip;
and, in justification of the bloody deed, he would quote this passage of
Scripture--"He that knoweth his master's will, and doeth it not, shall be
beaten with many stripes."

Master would keep this lacerated young woman tied up in this horrid
situation four or five hours at a time. I have known him to tie her up
early in the morning, and whip her before breakfast; leave her, go to
his store, return at dinner, and whip her again, cutting her in the
places already made raw with his cruel lash. The secret of master's
cruelty toward "Henny" is found in the fact of her being almost
helpless. When quite a child, she fell into the fire, and burned herself
horribly. Her hands were so burnt that she never got the use of them.
She could do very little but bear heavy burdens. She was to master a
bill of expense; and as he was a mean man, she was a constant offence
to him. He seemed desirous of getting the poor girl out of existence.
He gave her away once to his sister; but, being a poor gift, she was
not disposed to keep her. Finally, my benevolent master, to use his
own words, "set her adrift to take care of herself." Here was a
recently-converted man, holding on upon the mother, and at the same time
turning out her helpless child, to starve and die! Master Thomas was one
of the many pious slaveholders who hold slaves for the very charitable
purpose of taking care of them.

My master and myself had quite a number of differences. He found
me unsuitable to his purpose. My city life, he said, had had a very
pernicious effect upon me. It had almost ruined me for every good
purpose, and fitted me for every thing which was bad. One of my greatest
faults was that of letting his horse run away, and go down to his
father-inlaw's farm, which was about five miles from St. Michael's. I
would then have to go after it. My reason for this kind of carelessness,
or carefulness, was, that I could always get something to eat when I
went there. Master William Hamilton, my master's father-in-law, always
gave his slaves enough to eat. I never left there hungry, no matter
how great the need of my speedy return. Master Thomas at length said he
would stand it no longer. I had lived with him nine months, during
which time he had given me a number of severe whippings, all to no good
purpose. He resolved to put me out, as he said, to be broken; and, for
this purpose, he let me for one year to a man named Edward Covey. Mr.
Covey was a poor man, a farm-renter. He rented the place upon which he
lived, as also the hands with which he tilled it. Mr. Covey had acquired
a very high reputation for breaking young slaves, and this reputation
was of immense value to him. It enabled him to get his farm tilled with
much less expense to himself than he could have had it done without such
a reputation. Some slaveholders thought it not much loss to allow Mr.
Covey to have their slaves one year, for the sake of the training to
which they were subjected, without any other compensation. He could hire
young help with great ease, in consequence of this reputation. Added
to the natural good qualities of Mr. Covey, he was a professor of
religion--a pious soul--a member and a class-leader in the
Methodist church. All of this added weight to his reputation as a
"nigger-breaker." I was aware of all the facts, having been made
acquainted with them by a young man who had lived there. I nevertheless
made the change gladly; for I was sure of getting enough to eat, which
is not the smallest consideration to a hungry man.