t my fathers name was JAMES BIBB. He was doubtless one of the
present Bibb family of Kentucky; but I have no personal knowledge of
him at all, for he died before my recollection.

The first time I was separated from my mother, I was young and small.
I knew nothing of my condition then as a slave. I was living with Mr.
White, whose wife died and left him a widower with one little girl,
who was said to be the legitimate owner of my mother, and all her
children. This girl was also my playmate when we were children.

I was taken away from my mother, and hired out to labor for various
persons, eight or ten years in succession; and all my wages were
expended for the education of Harriet White, my playmate. It was then
my sorrows and sufferings commenced. It was then I first commenced
seeing and feeling that I was a wretched slave, compelled to work
under the lash without wages, and often without clothes enough to hide
my nakedness. I have often worked without half enough to eat, both
late and early, by day and by night. I have often laid my wearied
limbs down at night to rest upon a dirt floor, or a bench, without any
covering at all, because I had no where else to rest my wearied body,
after having worked hard all the day. I have also been compelled in
early life, to go at the bidding of a tyrant, through all kinds of
weather, hot or cold, wet or dry, and without shoes frequently, until
the month of December, with my bare feet on the cold frosty ground,
cracked open and bleeding as I walked. Reader, believe me when I say,
that no tongue, nor pen ever has or can express the horrors of
American Slavery. Consequently I despair in finding language to
express adequately the deep feeling of my soul, as I contemplate the
past history of my life. But although I have suffered much from the
lash, and for want of food and raiment; I confess that it was no
disadvantage to be passed through the hands of so many families, as
the only source of information that I had to enlighten my mind,
consisted in what I could see and hear from others. Slaves were not
allowed books, pen, ink, nor paper, to improve their minds. But it
seems to me now, that I was particularly observing, and apt to retain
what came under my observation. But more especially, all that I heard
about liberty and freedom to the slaves, I never forgot. Among other
good trades I learned the art of running away to perfection. I made a
regular business of it, and never gave it up