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Updated: May 25, 2025
The boy struggled and screamed but it availed him nothing. "Pickney, he mad um sartain," announced the negro, as he strode by his own hut, "get him Ol' Doc good'n quick!" Half walking and half running, but carrying his burden with ease, the negro hurried to a well-built house, on a height of land half a mile back from the coast.
Guess the Lord done heard the prayer and answered it. "Old man Sigmens wasn't a bad master. Don't remember so much about him. I couldn't have been 11 when he sold me to Pickney Setzer. He kept me for a little while and then he sold me to David Robinson. All three of them lived not so far apart in North Carolina. But pretty soon after he bought me old men Dave Robinson moved to Texas.
But still the strokes were directed wildly at the air, and never a blow fell on the little red horrors at his feet. "Ol' Doc, he say debbil-tree make um act that way," muttered the negro, as he ran, "pickney he think um crabs big as a mule!" Stuart, fighting for his life with what his tortured imagination conceived to be gigantic monsters, saw, coming along the beach, the semblance of an ogre.
An hour later, one of the Barbadian negroes, coming home from his work, was met at the door of his cabin by his wife, her eyes wide with alarm. "White pickney go along Terror Cove. No come um back." "Fo' de sake!" came the astonished exclamation. "Best hop along, see!" The burly negro, well-built like all his fellows, struck out along the beach.
He talked to himself and shook his frizzled head as he went. His pace, which was distinctly that of hurry, betokened his disturbed mind. "Pickney go alone here, by golly!" he declared as he traced the prints of a booted foot on the white sand and saw that they led only in one direction. "No come back! Dem debbil-trees, get um!"
At the age of eighty Frank W. Bird still directed the financial affairs of his paper business, but he looked back on his life as a "wretched failure." No matter how much he accomplished, it seemed to him as nothing compared with what he had wished to do. Would there were more such failures! Charles Pickney Sumner, the father of Charles Sumner, was a man of an essentially veracious nature.
"Mister Ol' Doc," he said, "this pickney down by de debbil-trees, they got um sartain. You potion um quick!" The doctor stepped aside from the door. "Put him in there, Mark!" he directed. "Hold him, I'll be back in a minute!" The negro threw Stuart on a cot and held him down, an easy task, now, for the boy's strength was ebbing fast. The doctor was back in a moment, with a small phial.
"No law will make a construction do wrong; and there are some things which the law favors, and some it dislikes; it favoreth those things that come from the order of nature." For instance, "Mr. Butler and Mr. Pickney moved to require 'fugitive slaves and servants to be delivered up like criminals." Mr. Sherman objected to delivering up either slaves or servants.
Time was when South as well as North, to be an" abolitionist," a member of the Abolition Society," was not only no strange thing, but a position held by the the foremost men, and without a thought that they were amendable to even the slightest censure of their associates. Jefferson and Pickney, as well as Jay and Adams, were abolitionists in name, as well as in fact.
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