We had remained at old Jack’s until June, 1865, and had tried to be content.  The Union soldiers were still raiding all through that section.  Every day some town would be taken, and the slaves would secretly rejoice.  After we came back from Alabama we were held with a tighter rein than ever.  We were not allowed to go outside of the premises.  George Washington, a fellow servant, and Kitty, his wife, and I had talked considerably about the Yankees, and how we might get away.  We knew it was our right to be free, for the proclamation had long been issued—­yet they still held us.  I did not talk much to my wife about going away, as she was always so afraid I would be killed, and did not want me to try any more to escape.  But George, his wife and I continued to discuss the matter, whenever we had a chance.  We knew that Memphis was headquarters for the Union troops, but how to reach it was the great question.

It was Sunday, and I had driven one portion of the family to church, and George the other.  The family was now very large, as the madam and her family were there, in addition to Old Master Jack’s, and all could not go in one carriage.  On the way back, young William McGee came up through the farm, on horseback, a nearer way home from church, and encountered several servants belonging to some of the neighbors.  He asked them what they were doing there, and if they had passes.  To this last question all answered no.  “Well,” said he, “never come here again without having passes, all of you.”  At this they all quickly disappeared.  When Old Jack came home, Will told him what had passed; and he immediately called for George and Uncle Peter, the foreman, and told them that no one not belonging there was to come into the quarters without a pass; and any servant with a pass should be brought to the house, that the pass might be inspected.  They thought, or feared, that if the servants were permitted to come together freely they might plan ways of escape, and communicate to each other what they knew about the war and the Yankees.  George came out, and finding me, told me what they had said.  “No slave from outside is to be allowed on the place,” said he.  I replied:  “If we listen to them we shall be here until Christmas comes again.”  “What do you mean?” asked George.  “I mean that now, today, is the time to make a start.”  So, late in the afternoon, during the servants’ prayer meeting, of which I have heretofore spoken, we thought would be a good time to get away, as no one would be likely to see us.  We talked with John Smith, another servant, and told him all about our plan, asking him not to say a word about our being gone until he was through feeding the stock.  This would give us another hour to advance on our journey, as the feeding usually took about that time—­from six o’clock until seven.  Our fear was that we might be overtaken by the bloodhounds; and, therefore, we wished to get as far away as possible before the white people knew we were gone.  It