THE UNITED STATES GOVERNED BY SIX HUNDRED THOUSAND DESPOTS.

A TRUE STORY OF SLAVERY, SHOWING :—

1. That Brutality is inseparable from Slavery.

2. That the Constitution of the United States of America is the Bulwark of American Slavery.

3. That the only hope of abolition of Slavery is in separation from the Union.

BY A FUGITIVE SLAVE.

[About a month ago, a respectably dressed man came into the Editor's room in The Empire Office, and, after a modestly expressed apology, begged to be informed where he could obtain the loan of Hildreth's History of the United States, and a correct copy of the American Constitution, stating that he had endeavoured to purchase them at the Booksellers, but had not succeeded in his enquiries. the novelty of the application at once awakened some curiosity ; and the person before us had sufficient in his manner and appearance, to deepen that feeling into one of abiding interest. He was a " man of colour," whose complexion would be hardly noticeable among the average specimens of the English face, about thirty-five or forty years of age, with bright intelligent eyes, a gentle firm voice, and a style of speech decidedly American. In answer to some interrogatories which the occasion suggested, he said briefly, that he was engaged in writing out his experiences of American slavery, and wanted the books in question for reference, and was prepared to deposit a sum of money in excess of their value with any one who would lend them to him. Hildreth's History, and the last edition of the United States' Constitution authorised by Congress, happened to be among our own office books, and they were supplied to our now acquaintance, He, on his own proposition, depositing in the hands of our office porter a bank note for £10 as security for their due return. A fortnight afterwards, the Fugitive Slave—for such he had acknowledged himself to be—again presented himself at our office to return the books ; and at the same time ho produced, and left in our hands the following written narrative. In publishing this " unvarnished tale," and, in many respects, really eloquent account of slavery, we have scarcely altered a word used by the writer, or done more than correct the orthography and divide it into readable sentences. the writer is in Sydney ; we understand he has been among the successful gold-diggers, and is now about changing his occupation by going to sea. We shall be much mistaken, if his narrative is not read with a lively interest.— ED. E.]

I was born in Ellenton, North Carolina, one of the oldest States in the Union, and had five different owners in 18 years. My first owner was Miss Penelope Hannablue, the invalid daughter of an innkeeper. After her death I became the property of her mother. My only sister was given to a niece of hers and daughter of Dr. James R.Norcom.

My father and mother were slaves. I have a very slight recollection of my mother who died when I was quite young, though my father made impressions on my mind in childhood that can never be forgotten. I should do my dear old grandmother injustice did I not mention her too ; for there was tun great a difference between her meekness and my father's fury, though slavery had caused it.

To be a man and not to be—a father without authority—a husband and no protector—is far pleasanter to dream of than to experience. Such is the condition of every slave throughout the United States ; he owns nothing—he can claim nothing. His wife is not his—his children are not his ; they can be taken from him, and sold at any minute, as far as the fleshmonger may see fit to carry them. Slaves are recognised as property by the law and can own nothing except at the consent of their masters. A slave's wife or daughter may be insulted before his eyes with impunity; he himself may be called on to torture them, and dare not refuse. To raise his hand in their defence, is death by the law. He must bear all things and resist nothing. If he leaves his master's premises at any time without a written permit, he is liable to be flogged ; yet they say we are happy and contented. I will admit that slaves are some times cheerful ; they sing and dance, as it is natural for any one to do when placed in their position. I myself had changed owners four times before I could see the policy of this. My father taught me to hate slavery ; but forgot to teach me how to conceal my hatred.

The deepest impression ever made on my mind was by my father when I was about 7 years old. Mrs. Hannablue and himself one day called me at the same time. I answered her call first, then my father's. What his feelings could have been I know not, but his words were these—" John, whenever I call you again, come to me, I care not who else may call." " Sir, my mistress had called me." " If she is your mistress, I am your father." He said no more—it was enough—I knew the remainder—"Honour thy father and thy mother as the Lord thy God hath commanded thee, that thy days may be prolonged, and that it may go well with thee in the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee."

What has Slavery to say to this? Does she allow children to obey their parents. No : nor the God that created them, when it does not serve their ends. The doctrine they preach to slaves is blasphemy—telling them obedience to their earthly masters is obedience to God, and that they must be obedient servants here on earth if they over hope to enjoy eternal life hereafter.

When a little boy, my father used to take me with him to the Methodist church. I continued to go, when I could, until one Mr. Moumon came there to preach ; he preached to the whites in the morning, and to the slaves in the afternoon. His discourse to the slaves was invariably about robbing hen-houses and keeping everything about your master's house in good order. This is what they call religions instruction given to slaves. Not a Sunday school nor a Bible class throughout the south where a slave dare put his head in to learn anything for himself. It is unlawful for any one to teach him the alphabet, to give, sell, or lend him a Bible ; yet they profess to be Christians they have churches, Bible and Tract Societies. They steal infants from their mothers to buy Bibles to send to heathens, and flog women to unpaid toil, to support their churches. This is what they do for the glory of God and the good of souls.

In 1850, I was in one of the railway coaches going from Boston Moss to Rochester N.Y. There were several ministers in the coach that had been to Boston to attend the missionary meeting, where the slave question had been discussed. Two of their number were either cut off or cut themselves loose, to save them the trouble, for having said that slavery was anti christian. This was bringing things too near home. They were dealing in human flesh and as a matter of course must make it appear all right in the eyes of the world. Well the Bible is taken for it. They first prove that slavery existed in the days of Christ and the Apostles; secondly, their course was non-interference, and that it was their firm belief, that a man could be a slaveholder and yet a worthy member in a Christian Church. Knowing that these gentlemen professed to be of the latter opinion, I begged to leave to ask a question, after having quoted these words, " Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me."

" Now, sir, will you tell me which of the two are the greatest sinners in the sight of God, those who bow down and worship the image of God carved out in wood or stone, or those who sell Christ in the shambles in a human being?" Said he, "It depends altogether upon the light they have had on the subject." " Well, if the south has not had sufficient light on this subject, why send your missionaries from home while the people at home are in greater darkness than those to whom you send them?"

I could get no further answer from him. The fact is, there is more knaving than ignorance among them. A man that will sell his own offspring, which thousands of them have done, has shown himself unnatural enough to do anything. They admit that a negro has a soul, but it must be a very painful acknowledgment to a nation whose prejudices are so strong. Go into the free States, or rather the so-called free States, for there is not a spot in that country, from one end to the other, whence I could not be dragged into slavery. I begin at the school house, I suppose myself a father living in one of these so-called free States. We have town schools in the different wards, I am always ready to pay my tax to help support these schools, but when I send my children they are told "We don't keep school here for niggers." There is my poll-tax I have paid. Am I not allowed to vote? " No, we don't allow niggers at the ballot box here." Having grown sick of such treatment, I take my wife and children and go in search of a State where they will treat us according to our behaviour and not our colour, I have paid my passage on the steamer. As soon as I step foot into the saloon, with my wife and children, I am told that "niggers are not allowed here," " But, sir, I have a cabin-ticket." "I don't care for that, I tell you niggers are not allowed here."

The boat lands. I go to an Hotel. " Sir, can,I be accommodated here?" " Whom are you with ?" " No one but my family." " No, we don't accommodate niggers here." I go to another, " Can I get supper and lodgings here to night ?" " Yes, yes,—walk in." The bell rings, I take my wife and children, and start for the tea room. " Where are you going?" "To supper, sir." " We don't sit niggers down with white folks here."

We will suppose the next day Sunday. The church-bells are ringing, and the cold reception we have met with hath made my heart sick and my life a burthen. What say you if we go to church ? It is agreed on. We enter. In going down the aisle I am politely touched on the shoulder—" There is a seat in that corner for niggers." " Sir, my wife is a member of this sect, of good and regular standing in her own church. This being Communion-day, she wishes to be with you." " Oh, yes, brother ; well, she must come this afternoon ; we are going to take it this forenoon— this afternoon we will give it to the niggers."

I will suppose one of my children dead. It has been christened in this church. I apply to the church for the privilege of burying my child in their ground. " Oh no, that will never do ; we cannot allow niggers to be buried with white folks."

Poor foolish man ! here your reign of tyranny is over. Can you prevent us from entering the kingdom of heaven or the gates of hell with white folks ? You follow us to the grave with your prejudices, but you can go no further.

When asked why we are treated thus, the answer is, " They are an ignorant, degraded race." Why are we ignorant and degraded? Are not the avenues to knowledge closed against us, and we made to black your boots, scrape your chin, cook your food, and do the rest of your dirty work, or starve ? Do we not see it everywhere staring us in the face, as plain as though it were written "No admittance here for niggers." True, your demoralising and brutalising process for three hundred and thirty-three years is enough to have unfitted us for society, but are you still afraid to give us and our sons an equal chance with you and yours ? Yes, you see as clear as that king whose knees smote together with fear, from the writing on the wall, that ignorance is the only hope of slavery, that to enlighten the slaves would be to liberate them.

THE DEATH OF MRS. HANABLUE, AND THE SALE OF HER SLAVES AT PUBLIC AUCTION.

Here they are, old and young, male and female, married and single, to be sold to the highest bidder. My father, who belonged to a Mrs. Knox, is now dead ; and I have no one to look to for parental affection and advice save my grandmother, whoso gray hairs and many years' service in the public-house did not excuse her from the auctioneer's hammer. But she was not without a friend. She placed some thirty years' savings of money in his hands to purchase her and her son. She had two other children, a son and a daughter, but they were owned by other parties.

They began to sell off the old slaves first, as rubbish ; one very old man sold for one dollar ; the old cook sold for 17 dollars ; from that to 1,600 dollars, which was the price of a young man who was a carpenter.

Dr. Norcom, whose daughter owned my sister, bought me for a shop boy. It would be in vain for me to attempt to give a description of my feelings while standing under the auctioneer's hammer; I can safely say, such will not be the case again. the sale is over, and each slave moves slowly along to his new home—some in one direction, and some in another.

The man, to whom my grandmother trusted to do her business for her, acted very honourably. As soon as it could be done, after the sale, he procured her free papers and the bill of sale of her son, to show that he was her property by right of purchase. It may seem rather strange that my grandmother should hold her son a slave ; but the law requires it. She must give security that she will never be any expense to the town or state before she can come in possession of her freedom. Her property in him is sufficient to satisfy the law ; he can be sold at any minute to pay her debts, though it is not likely this will ever be the case ; they have a snug home of their own, but their troubles are not yet at an end.

My uncle Joseph, who was owned by Mr J, Collings, ran away about this time and got as far as New York, where he was seen and known by Mr. Skinner of Falenton, who had him taken and sent back to his master. He was lodged in gaol and put in heavy irons, where he remained for most of the winter and was then sold to go to New Orleans.

My uncle Mark, whom my grandmother had bought, was steward on board of a packet or vessel of some kind at that time, and some months after my uncle Joseph had been sold, my uncle Mark met him in New York. He had made his second escape, The vessel was about to sail and they had but little time to spend with each other, though my uncle Joseph told him he had not come there to stop.

His intention was to get beyond the reach of the Stars and Stripes of America. Unwilling to trust his liberty any longer in the hands of a professed Christian, he promised to seek safety among the Turks. Since then we have not heard from him, but feel satisfied that he is beyond the reach of slavery, which is the greatest satisfaction that can be given to us, his friends. Since that time both my uncle and myself have travelled a great deal, and never failed to inquire after him whenever we saw any one that we knew—that being the only hope we have of hearing from him.

My grandmother's mind had scarcely got composed about my uncle, before I began to be a source of trouble to her. The older I grew the greater was my hatred to slavery, and I could not conceal it. I had called Mrs. Hanablue mistress, because I heard every body about the house call her mistress ; but when I went to the doctor who bought me, I could not call him master nor his wife mistress. They were members of Mrs. Hanablue's family. I have always called him doctor, and his wife Miss Mary ; this they may not have noticed. the next to master were the children. Some slave-holders will make their slaves " Master" and " Miss" their children from the cradle ; but such was not the case with the doctor ; his boys were not " mastered" until they were 10 or 12 years old. But when they got it from others, and expected it from me, I was not ready to do it. I could not make myself believe that they had any right to demand any such humiliation from me. They saw it and often thumped me over the head for it. I used all possible means to avoid calling them by name ; whenever I had to address them I would go right up to them—" Your father" or "your mother," as the case might be, " wants you." It was not long before they began to take notice of that, and would question me—"Want who?" said they. "You." " Who am I ?" Here they got me in a corner. But I took a turnabout sometimes I would " master" them, and at other times I would take a rap. The old doctor was a tyrant, and his wife was no better. His children were chips of the same block, some a little larger than others.

Here my grandmother used to teach me a doctrine that I could not appreciate then though it was not without effect. How it was that we could love slaveholders and bear the yoke with patience I could not tell ; but I must say, that I never saw anything in her, that I could construe into hatred towards anyone, I have seen her treat these very children that were growing up to kick me about, with as much kindness as though they were hers— in fact, they would always look for something good, whenever they went where she was. I could daily see her, practising that which she so much wanted to teach me—love and forgiveness ; to love those who loved not me, and forgive those that ill treated me—a principle though right and just in it self, yet it is all that poor nature can do, and she often found too weak for that.

BRUTALITY AND MURDER AMONG SLAVES

I am not writing of what I have heard, but of what I have seen, and of what I defy the world to prove false. There lived about two miles up a river, emptying into the Albermarle Sound, a planter, whose name was Carbaras. His plantation was called Pembroke. At his death his slaves were sold. I mention this, because slaves seldom ever have more than one name ; their surname is most generally that of their first master's. the person I am now about to allude to was known by the name of George Carbaras. After the death of his old master, he was owned by Mr. Popelston ; after that by young John Horton, who sold him to a negro trader, whose name was Ham. I think this Mr. Ham was from Georgia.

George was chained in the gang with other slaves, and dragged from his wife and his friends. After a few days' travel on the road, by some means or other he made his escape and returned back to that spot where he knew he could find one heart to feel for him, in whom he could confide; but he had not been there long before the bloodthirsty negro-hunters got on his trail, one beautiful Sunday morning, about midsummer, while the church-bells were ringing.

Willy Hay, Elisha Besell, Rob Keaton and Tom Man were pulling up the Albemarle to murder a brother ; this, no doubt, they did with fiendish relish. The next question with them was, whether the mere gratification of killing a man and cutting his head from his body was the only pay they were to receive or not.

" If he is outlawed, we only need show his head, and the reward is ours ; but if he is not outlawed, what then ? Why, they may try to make us pay for him; but we will not be fools enough to say that we shot him, unless we are to be paid for shooting him." His body is put into a canoe ; his head thrown in, which lies on his breast. These four Southern gentlemen now return to the town, leaving the canoe to inquire how the advertisement reads. On finding that the reward was to be given to any one who would apprehend and confine him in any gaol in the State, they saw that they could not publicly boast of their fiendish work ; but the Sunday following they brought him down for exhibition.

Now, the question is, what had this man done that he should be so inhumanly butchered and beheaded? the crime that he had committed, and the only crime, was to leave the unnatural trader in slaves and the souls of men, to return to his natural and affectionate wife. Nothing is done to the murderers. They only made a blunder. Slaves are outlawed and shot with impunity, and the tyrant that shoots them is paid for it ; but in this case George was not outlawed, so their trouble was all for nothing, and the glory only known to themselves.

Tom Hoskins, was a slave belonging to James Norcom, the son of Dr. Norcom. This slave was found just out of the town in the scrub, said to have been shot by William Hay. He was shot in the back, and must have been killed instantly. There was no pay for this—only a feast of blood. Tom's crime was running away from one whom I know to be an unmerciful tyrant. Another was shot, but not killed. Sirus Cofield—There were three brothers of the Cofields, William, James, and Josiah ; I know not which of the three this slave belonged to. They had been out that day with their bloodhounds hunting slaves. They shot Sims a little before dark. By some means or other he made his escape from them, and reached Dr. Sawyer's shop soon after dark. He was taken in, and as many of the shots taken out of him as they could get at, and his wounds dressed. This being done, Dr. Sawyer sent a despatch to Mr. Cofield to let him know that the slave that they had shot had come in to him, and got his wounds dressed. As soon as they received this intelligence, they mounted their horses, and rode off in fiendish glee for town. They came up to the shop, hooting and yelling as if all Bedlam was coming. When they had reached the door, the first cry from them was, "Bring him out—finish him—I shot dat nigger—whenever I put my gun at a nigger, he's bonn' to fall." This man, who was taking so much glory to himself, was not one of the Cofields. I would give his name, but it is so nearly connected with the name of one of Mr. Cofield's slaves, that I do not know which is his. The doctor came out and said to them, "Gentlemen, the negro has given himself up to me, and I will be responsible for his safe delivery to you as soon as he is able to be moved from here ; but at present he is not." Seeing that the doctor would not let them have him they returned home.

The Cofields were very rich, they owned a great many slaves, and shooting with them was common. They did not feel the loss of a slave or two ; it was a common thing for them to offer 50 or 100 dollars' reward for a slave, dead or alive, so that there be satisfactory proof of his having been killed. I came very near being torn to pieces one day by Cofield's bloodhounds. I was sent to my master's plantation with a message to the overseer; the plantation was about one and a half miles from town ; I know what part of it he had the slaves at work on, and took a short cut through the bush ; when I had got in sight Cofield hallooed to me to keep off, and get over the fence, otherwise I should have them on me. He was then trying to strike the track of a slave. They have been hunted so much that they have learnt to baffle the hounds when they can get means ; to cut and rub an onion on the bottom of the foot is one way, to sprinkle cayenne pepper in their track is another.

I could mention other slaves that have been shot to my knowledge, but why should I ? If one has been shot, and the laws justify the shooting of that, one, every slave in the States is liable to be shot.

Your air with misery howls,
The negro groans, the bloodhound growls ;
Like demons wild you take their flesh,
And human rights beneath you crush.

THE DIFFERENT WAYS OF PUNISHING SLAVES.

Just at the back of the court-house and in front of the gaol is a whipping post, with stocks and pillory attached. The pillory is not intended for slaves, it is a place where they put man or women when they want to pelt them with rotten eggs; the platform of the pillory is about 8 feet from the ground, 6 or 8 feet square, with a post in the centre—having in the centre of it a board firmly placed 3 feet from the platform, with 3 half circle's on each side—two for the wrist, and one for the neck—and a corresponding slide board to let down and fasten them in ; the person who is in the pillory stands in a stooping position. The stocks are made on the same principle, the lower part being the groundwork ; at each end is a large post with iron straps to fasten the hand in ; they are about as high as one can well get their hands in the required manner ; this is done to tighten the skin on the back, that the cowhide they flog with may cut the deeper into the flesh. Here I have seen men and woman stripped and struck, from 15 to 100 and more. Some of them whose backs were cut to pieces were washed down with strong brine or brandy, this is done to increase pain. But the most cruel torture is backing ; the hands are crossed and tied, then taken over the knees and pinned by running a stick between the arms and legs, which tightens the skin and renders the slave as helpless as a child. the backing paddle is made of oak, about 1 ¼ inch thick, and 5 by 8 inches in the blade, with about 12 inches of a handle. the blade is full of small holes which makes the punishment severer than it would otherwise be. I have seen the flesh like a steak. Slaves flogged in this way are unable to sit down for months. This was Mr. Collins's favourite way of punishing slaves. Mr. Collins was a member of the Church, and to a stranger would seem to be a very kind-hearted, good man. Every slave that met him would pull off his hat and make a polite bow, which Mr. Collins would return. If he was a day or two from home, when he returned, his slaves that were about the house, would take his hand and inquire after his health. Is it love, that his own and other people's slaves have for him ? No, but fear. Mr. Collins always has at hand a little cane, to teach politeness to such as have not learnt it. I have known him to flog others' slaves for not taking their hats off to him, when he has been on the opposite side of the street ; and on one occasion he met a slave with a quarter of mutton in each hand, and flogged him because he did not shift the two into one hand, until he could raise his hat. Where the slaves cannot see the necessity of being deceitful, such treatment soon makes them see it.

I was an eyewitness to more than one hundred blows each, being given to two lads belonging to Mr. Collins, and they were then sent to the Lake Farm, a place that will well bear the name I once heard a poor slave mother call it, who was taking leave of her son—"He is going," said she " to the lake of hell."

I will give you but one more case of flogging detail, that will be Agnes, the slave of Augustus More. She was hired to John Beasley; she was some six months advanced in pregnancy at the time. Being in an unfit state for field labour, she could not do as much as other, slaves. For this cause, Beasley tied her up and commenced whipping her. With my own hands have I dressed her back, and I declare, before God, that she had not a piece of skin left on it as wide as my finger. She was a hired slave. If Beasley had killed her at a single blow, her master could have punished Beasley if he could have got white witnesses to that effect, which is not likely ; but she may have died in an hour after being cut down, and there was no law to harm him. It would have been death caused by moderate correction, which North Carolina does not punish a slaveholder for.

I know that the picture I have drawn of slavery is a black one, and looks most unnatural ; but here you have the State, the town, and the names of all the parties. Prove it to be false if you can. Take one who has never felt the sting of slavery, he would naturally suppose that it was to the slaveholder's advantage to treat his slaves with kindness ; but the more indulgent the master, the more intelligent the slave ; the more intelligent the slave, the nearer he approximates to a man; the nearer he approximates to a man, the more determinate he is to be a free man ; and to argue that the slaves are happy, or can be happy while in slavery, is to argue that they have been brutalised to that degree that they cannot be considered men. What better proof do you want in favour of universal freedom than can be given? You can find thousands of ignorant men who will lay down their lives for their liberty ; can you find one intelligent man that would prefer slavery? These thousands are not men—they are only children to what they should be. I am yet a child ; I can see the things that I want, but have not attained to the stature of a man ; they are beyond my reach, though I would he ashamed of myself to offer these acts of wanton cruelty as a reason why slavery should be abolished. If they can be considered an evil, they are a necessary evil, and you can only remove the evil by removing, the cause. All the chains and fetters in North Carolina would not hold me if I was able to carry them off. God created me a freeman and with his assistance I will die one. If any man has a right to my limbs, he also has a right to use all necessary means to make them available to him. I deny the former ; and declare it as an act of Christian duty, in regard to the latter, that the slaveholder who gets my labour shall pay a much as it is worth for it, and his life, if possible with it.

The last thing that remained to be done to complete this hell on earth was done in 1850 in passing the Fugitive Slave Law. There is not a State a city, nor a town left as a refuge for the hunted slave ; there is not a United States officer but what has sworn to act the part of the bloodhound in hunting me down, if I dare visit the land of Stars and Stripes, the home of the brave, and land of the free. You can extort submission to the gratification of your lust from our wives—you can take our daughters, and sell them for the basest use that can be made of woman. Yet you declare it to be a self-evident truth that all men are created by their Creator free and equal, and endowed with certain inalienable rights—life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Where are the coloured man's rights to-day in America ? They once had rights allowed them. Yes, in the days that tried men's souls, they had a right to bleed and die for the country! but their deeds are forgotten, their swords and bayonets have been beaten into chains and fetters to bind the limbs of their children. To your shame and disgrace, the first man that was seen to fall in the city of Boston, in the revolutionary struggle for liberty, was a coloured man and I have seen one of his brethren, who had fled from his whips and chains, within sight of that monument erected to liberty, dragged from it into slavery, not by the slaveowners of the south, for they know not of his being there—but by northern men.

 Empire 25 April 1855,