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Updated: June 8, 2025


The new arrival leaped out of the trap, and shouting 'Horses! and look sharp! he went into the room. While he was listening with the strange wonder customary in such cases to the overseer's answer that there were no horses, I had time to scan my new companion from top to toe with all the greedy curiosity of a man bored to death. He appeared to be nearly thirty.

Very devoted to his mother, he would follow her into the cotton field as she picked or hoed cotton, urged by the thrashing of the overseer's lash. His master, a prominent political figure of that time was very kind to his slaves, but would not permit them to read and write.

It had a two-room overseer's house, covering for forty odd negroes, and sheds sufficient for thirty work horses and oxen. Washington considered it much the best of all his farms. It was this farm that he bequeathed to Nelly Custis and her husband, Lawrence Lewis, and upon it they erected "Woodlawn," which is shown in the photograph herewith reproduced.

A deep murmur of dissent ran through the crowd, but Amherst, without noticing the overseer's reply, said to Mr. Tredegar: "He's at the Hope Hospital. He will lose his hand, and probably the whole arm." He had not meant to add this last phrase.

Their creed had but four articles: "Do as little as you can consistently with keeping out of the overseer's black books; get your full share of loblolly and bacon, and some one else's if you are clever enough; embrace every opportunity for reasonable mischief that is offered you; honor Church and King, or say you do, and Colonel Verney will overlook most pranks."

As I approached the "quarter," I was struck with the peculiar character of the picture it presented, the overseer's house towering above the humbler cabins, seeming to protect and watch over them, suggesting the similarity of a hen with her brood of chickens.

The Major paid the levy with the first mortgage he had ever given in his life, and straightway Jerome Conners, who had been dealing in mules and other Government supplies, took an attitude that was little short of insolence toward his old master, whose farm was passing into the overseer's clutches at last.

There were no lights to be seen. One glimmered in the rear, in a window of the overseer's house. The negro quarter was dark and silent. The buzz usual at that hour was not heard. They whose voices used to echo through its little street were now far away. The cabins were empty.

He looked at her in surprise; he had not the least idea of what she alluded to. "Do you remember what a romantic interest you once took in our overseer's niece the one who eloped with Lester Stanwick from boarding-school the one whose death we afterward read of? Her name was Daisy Daisy Brooks."

The family, consisting of females, including the overseer's wife, who had come for protection, quietly collected in the sitting-room, where a tallow candle, placed not to attract attention from outside, shed a dim light over my ghostlike companions clad in their night-dresses.

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