Slavery Creative Writing Essay Example
Logan White
American Civilization/ English 11th
Dr. Graves/ Mrs. May-Washington
November 15th 2010
The Road to Freedom
I be mighty grateful to mistah David Ruggles, who be a abolitionist Republican wantin to hear my story and publish a book about me. My name is Elijah White; I was born outside West Point in Bates County, Missouri. I worked on my masta’s farm. The farm was called da White farm. It was about forty acres an grew tobacco an hemp. My masta was Colonel Walter Prescott White. He tol me I was twenty years ol’ but I didn’t really know. I didn’t have no education when on da farm. I never knew my pa and my mama gone left me when I was real young. I didn’t have no siblings. He was in da Mexican War, and been in battle plenty. Now durin the Civil War he was in da Missouri militia He was some kind of lover of da confedrates, and dem bushwhackers who were attackin Kansas. Masta White owned five more slaves.
On da farm I tended to da hemp and tobacco. I worked sunrise to sunset. In late summer, I’d cut hemp, den laid it on da ground to dry. Afta it dried, I tied it into sheaves and stacked it. It was tough work and weared me out. In November, I spreaded it out in da fields so it could dew rot and loosed up da fibers. We sowed tobacco seeds in da winter. Durin da summer, da plants needed to be wormed, topped, and suckered. Late summer I had to split and cut da stalks so it could wilt in da fields. I hated when I took da tobacco to da houses and hung it to be curred for winter, cause it was awful hard and tiring. Bout next season, I stripped da leaves, sorted em and tied em into bundles.
When my masta was drunk he was damn evil; he’d beat me till he couldn’t beat me no mo. He used his hands, his whip, and his cow hide. No matta how bad he beat me I always worked da next day. Masta weren’t always so bad; it be da liquor dat made him evil. He gave me good clothes for da year, and when deys were torn up he replaced em. He knew dat
American Civilization/ English 11th
Dr. Graves/ Mrs. May-Washington
November 15th 2010
The Road to Freedom
I be mighty grateful to mistah David Ruggles, who be a abolitionist Republican wantin to hear my story and publish a book about me. My name is Elijah White; I was born outside West Point in Bates County, Missouri. I worked on my masta’s farm. The farm was called da White farm. It was about forty acres an grew tobacco an hemp. My masta was Colonel Walter Prescott White. He tol me I was twenty years ol’ but I didn’t really know. I didn’t have no education when on da farm. I never knew my pa and my mama gone left me when I was real young. I didn’t have no siblings. He was in da Mexican War, and been in battle plenty. Now durin the Civil War he was in da Missouri militia He was some kind of lover of da confedrates, and dem bushwhackers who were attackin Kansas. Masta White owned five more slaves.
On da farm I tended to da hemp and tobacco. I worked sunrise to sunset. In late summer, I’d cut hemp, den laid it on da ground to dry. Afta it dried, I tied it into sheaves and stacked it. It was tough work and weared me out. In November, I spreaded it out in da fields so it could dew rot and loosed up da fibers. We sowed tobacco seeds in da winter. Durin da summer, da plants needed to be wormed, topped, and suckered. Late summer I had to split and cut da stalks so it could wilt in da fields. I hated when I took da tobacco to da houses and hung it to be curred for winter, cause it was awful hard and tiring. Bout next season, I stripped da leaves, sorted em and tied em into bundles.
When my masta was drunk he was damn evil; he’d beat me till he couldn’t beat me no mo. He used his hands, his whip, and his cow hide. No matta how bad he beat me I always worked da next day. Masta weren’t always so bad; it be da liquor dat made him evil. He gave me good clothes for da year, and when deys were torn up he replaced em. He knew dat