On cane plantations in sugar time， there is no distinctionas to the days of the week. It is well understood that allhands must labor on the Sabbath， and it is equally wellunderstood that those especially who are hired， as I wasto Judge Turner， and others in succeeding years， shallreceive remuneration for it. It is usual， also， in the mosthurrying time of cotton-picking， to require the same extraservice. From this source， slaves generally are affordedan opportunity of earning sufficient to purchase a knife， akettle， tobacco and so forth. The females， discarding thelatter luxury， are apt to expend their little revenue in thepurchase of gaudy ribbons， wherewithal to deck their hairin the merry season of the holidays.
I remained in St. Mary’s until the first of January，during which time my Sunday money amounted to tendollars. I met with other good fortune， for which I wasindebted to my violin， my constant companion， the sourceof profit， and soother of my sorrows during years ofservitude. There was a grand party of whites assembledat Mr. Yarney’s， in Centreville， a hamlet in the vicinityof Turner’s plantation. I was employed to play for them，and so well pleased were the merry-makers with myperformance， that a contribution was taken for mybenefit， which amounted to seventeen dollars.
With this sum in possession， I was looked upon by my fellows as a millionaire. It afforded me great pleasure tolook at it—to count it over and over again， day after day.
Visions of cabin furniture， of water pails， of pocket knives，new shoes and coats and hats， floated through my fancy，and up through all rose the triumphant contemplation，that I was the wealthiest “nigger” on Bayou Boeuf.
Vessels run up the Rio Teche to Centreville. Whilethere， I was bold enough one day to present myself beforethe captain of a steamer， and beg permission to hidemyself among the freight. I was emboldened to risk thehazard of such a step， from overhearing a conversation，in the course of which I ascertained he was a native oftile North. I did not relate to him the particulars of myhistory， but only expressed an ardent desire to escapefrom slavery to a free State. He pitied me， but said itwould be impossible to avoid the vigilant custom houseofficers in New-Orleans， and that detection would subjecthim to punishment， and his vessel to confiscation. Myearnest entreaties evidently excited his sympathies，and doubtless he would have yielded to them， could hehave done so with any kind of safety. I was compelled tosmother the sudden flame that lighted up my bosom withsweet hopes of liberation， and turn my steps once moretowards the increasing darkness of despair.
Immediately after this event the drove assembled atCentreville， and several of the owners having arrived andcollected the monies due for our services， we were drivenback to Bayou Boeuf. It was on our return， while passing through a small village， that I caught sight of Tibeats，seated in the door of a dirty grocery， looking somewhatseedy and out of repair. Passion and poor whisky， I doubtnot， have ere this laid him on the shelf.
During our absence， I learned from Aunt Phebe andPatsey， that the latter had been getting deeper and deeperinto trouble. The poor girl was truly an object of pity. “OldHogjaw，” the name by which Epps was called， when theslaves were by themselves had beaten her more severelyand frequently than ever. As surely as he came fromHolmesville， elated with liquor—and it was often in thosedays—he would whip her， merely to gratify the mistress；would punish her to an extent almost beyond endurance，for an offence of which he himself was the sole andirresistible cause. In his sober moments he could notalways be prevailed upon to indulge his wife’s insatiablethirst for vengeance.
To be rid of Patsey—to place her beyond sight or reach，by sale， or death， or in any other manner， of late years，seemed to be the ruling thought and passion of my mistress.
Patsey had been a favorite when a child， even in thegreat house. She had been petted and admired for heruncommon sprightliness and pleasant disposition. Shehad been fed many a time， so Uncle Abram said， even onbiscuit and milk， when the madam， in her younger days，was wont to call her to the piazza， and fondle her as shewould a playful kitten. But a sad change had come overthe spirit of the woman. Now， only black and angry fiends ministered in the temple of her heart， until she could lookon Patsey but with concentrated venom.
Mistress Epps was not naturally such an evil woman，after all. She was possessed of the devil， jealousy， itis true， but aside from that， there was much in hercharacter to admire. Her father， Mr. Roberts， residedin Cheneyville， an influential and honorable man， andas much respected throughout the parish as any othercitizen. She had been well educated at some institutionthis side the Mississippi； was beautiful， accomplished，and usually good-humored. She was kind to all of usbut Patsey—frequently， in the absence of her husband，sending out to us some little dainty from her own table.
In other situations—in a different society from that whichexists on the shores of Bayou Boeuf， she would have beenpronounced an elegant and fascinating woman. An illwind it was that blew her into the arms of Epps.
He respected and loved his wife as much as a coarsenature like his is capable of loving， but supreme selfishnessalways overmastered conjugal affection.
“He loved as well as baser natures can，
But a mean heart and soul were in that man.”
He was ready to gratify any whim—to grant any requestshe made， provided it did not cost too much. Patsey wasequal to any two of his slaves in the cotton field. He couldnot replace her with the same money she would bring.
