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[Illustration: _Isaac Mason._]




                             L I F E   O F



                              ISAAC MASON



                          A S   A   S L A V E.


                            WORCESTER, MASS.
                                 1893.




                           Table of Contents

                      1. Earliest Recollections.
                      2. In a New Home.
                      3. Escape from Slavery.
                      4. In the Land of Freedom.
                      5. A Flying Visit to Hayti.




                                  WORCESTER, MASS., JULY 19, 1893.

    I have known Isaac Mason very well since 1850. He has done a
    great deal of work for me and my household. I know him to be an
    honest, faithful and intelligent man. I have not had time to
    examine his book in manuscript, but I am sure his statements may
    be trusted, and that his experience will prove very interesting.
    I hope his book will have a good sale, and commend it to the
    public.

                                                     GEO. F. HOAR.




                                PREFACE.

                 *        *        *        *        *

Having repeatedly been asked by my many friends to write the history of
my life as a slave, especially by some who have heard me lecture on
certain portions of that ever memorable period of my life, I have, after
some hesitation as to its advisability, reluctantly concluded to accede
to their wishes, and now present to them a truthful sketch of my
eventful life in the dark days of slavery. As these checkered scenes of
my early life reflectively present themselves to my mind at my advanced
state of life, I wonder how I withstood all the abuse and cruelty of
these early years. Our lives are largely composed of sorrow and joy, but
my cup, it seems to me, has been full to overflowing with sorrow, but
God has been my strength and my salvation, and has brought me thus far
in the journey of life, and in him I trust, praying that, in his good
time he will take me to that heavenly home where our earthly trials will
cease and where there will be no more sorrow.

My story is told in a plain matter-of-fact way, and I hope my readers
will overlook and excuse the defects which must necessarily abound
throughout the book, owing to lack of educational advantages.

                                                          ISAAC MASON.




                              _CHAPTER I._


                        EARLIEST RECOLLECTIONS.

In Kent County, in the northern part of the State of Maryland, there was
at the time of my earliest recollections (and I suppose it yet remains),
a small town known as George Town Cross Oats, having a population of
about 500 or 600. It was in this town, on the 14th day of May, 1822, A.
D., that I inhaled my first supply of air, that my eyes, for the first
time, were brought in contact with the beautiful light surrounding the
terrestrial world, the earthly home of mankind, and the first sound of
my infant voice was raised in shrill cries for a mother’s tender care
and parental affection. This was the place of my nativity and the date
of my birth. It was also the time that my mistress became the owner of
one more slave and so much richer by my birth. My mother was,
unfortunately, numbered in the family of slavedom, belonging to one Mrs.
Hannah Woodland, and according to the institution of slave law, I
legally, or illegally, became her property. Though my father was a free
man still he had no claim to me. My mother’s name was Sophia Thompson,
and she served in the capacity of house servant. She was the mother of
five children, four sons and one daughter, of whom I was the first born,
and William Anderson, of the city of Worcester, Mass., the second. My
father, Zekiel Thompson, was, as I said, a free man, and most of his
time served as a farm hand on one of the farms owned by my mistress.
Whether from his activity and knowledge of farm work or as an inducement
to remain near his wife, I do not know, but he was permitted to hold the
position of overseer of the work and farm hands.

My mistress, Mrs. H. Woodland, was a widow—her husband being a sea
captain and lost at sea before I was born or had any knowledge of him.
They were both natives of Scotland. He owned two farms, and at his death
his wife became the owner of both, carrying on business until the time
of her death. She was the mother of five children, one son and four
daughters. The son, Samuel Woodland, who was said to be rich, owning two
farms, several houses, and from one hundred to one hundred and fifty
slaves, was, as near as language can express it, a lifetime tyrant to
his farm hands and house servants. His tyranical passion was so great
that on the day of his death he called in the men from their work, and
with a stick in his dying hand struck each one across their hands. As
each one received the parting gift he had to file out and another take
his place. This ceremony continued to within two hours of his death,
when from exhaustion he had to cease. Those who were on the end of the
line of march on that day fortunately lost