time.  It is almost equal to the feeling that one would experience if he had a dozen or more chestnut burrs, or a hundred small pin-points, in contact with his flesh.  Even to this day I can recall accurately the tortures that I underwent when putting on one of these garments.  The fact that my flesh was soft and tender added to the pain.  But I had no choice.  I had to wear the flax shirt or none; and had it been left to me to choose, I should have chosen to wear no covering.  In connection with the flax shirt, my brother John, who is several years older than I am, performed one of the most generous acts that I ever heard of one slave relative doing for another.  On several occasions when I was being forced to wear a new flax shirt, he generously agreed to put it on in my stead and wear it for several days, till it was “broken in.”  Until I had grown to be quite a youth this single garment was all that I wore.

One may get the idea, from what I have said, that there was bitter feeling toward the white people on the part of my race, because of the fact that most of the white population was away fighting in a war which would result in keeping the Negro in slavery if the South was successful.  In the case of the slaves on our place this was not true, and it was not true of any large portion of the slave population in the South where the Negro was treated with anything like decency.  During the Civil War one of my young masters was killed, and two were severely wounded.  I recall the feeling of sorrow which existed among the slaves when they heard of the death of “Mars’ Billy.”  It was no sham sorrow, but real.  Some of the slaves had nursed “Mars’ Billy”; others had played with him when he was a child.  “Mars’ Billy” had begged for mercy in the case of others when the overseer or master was thrashing them.  The sorrow in the slave quarter was only second to that in the “big house.”  When the two young masters were brought home wounded, the sympathy of the slaves was shown in many ways.  They were just as anxious to assist in the nursing as the family relatives of the wounded.  Some of the slaves would even beg for the privilege of sitting up at night to nurse their wounded masters.  This tenderness and sympathy on the part of those held in bondage was a result of their kindly and generous nature.  In order to defend and protect the women and children who were left on the plantations when the white males went to war, the slaves would have laid down their lives.  The slave who was selected to sleep in the “big house” during the absence of the males was considered to have the place of honour.  Any one attempting to harm “young Mistress” or “old Mistress” during the night would have had to cross the dead body of the slave to do so.  I do not know how many have noticed it, but I think that it will be found to be true that there are few instances, either in slavery or freedom, in which a member of my race has been known to betray a specific trust.