little else than field work to
perform, I had much leisure. The most I had to do, was, to drive up the
cows in the evening, to keep the front yard clean, and to perform
small errands for my young mistress, Lucretia Auld. I have reasons for
thinking this lady was very kindly disposed toward me, and, although I
was not often the object of her attention, I constantly regarded her
as my friend, and was always glad when it was my privilege to do her a
service. In a family where there was so much that was harsh, cold and
indifferent, the slightest word or look of kindness passed, with me, for
its full value. Miss Lucretia--as{102} we all continued to call her long
after her marriage--had bestowed upon me such words and looks as taught
me that she pitied me, if she did not love me. In addition to words and
looks, she sometimes gave me a piece of bread and butter; a thing not
set down in the bill of fare, and which must have been an extra ration,
planned aside from either Aunt Katy or old master, solely out of the
tender regard and friendship she had for me. Then, too, I one day got
into the wars with Uncle Able's son, "Ike," and had got sadly worsted;
in fact, the little rascal had struck me directly in the forehead with a
sharp piece of cinder, fused with iron, from the old blacksmith's forge,
which made a cross in my forehead very plainly to be seen now. The gash
bled very freely, and I roared very loudly and betook myself home.
The coldhearted Aunt Katy paid no attention either to my wound or my
roaring, except to tell me it served me right; I had no business
with Ike; it was good for me; I would now keep away _"from dem Lloyd
niggers."_ Miss Lucretia, in this state of the case, came forward;
and, in quite a different spirit from that manifested by Aunt Katy, she
called me into the parlor (an extra privilege of itself) and, without
using toward me any of the hard-hearted and reproachful epithets of my
kitchen tormentor, she quietly acted the good Samaritan. With her own
soft hand she washed the blood from my head and face, fetched her own
balsam bottle, and with the balsam wetted a nice piece of white linen,
and bound up my head. The balsam was not more healing to the wound in my
head, than her kindness was healing to the wounds in my spirit, made
by the unfeeling words of Aunt Katy. After this, Miss Lucretia was my
friend. I felt her to be such; and I have no doubt that the simple act
of binding up my head, did much to awak