| The Experience of Rev.Thomas H. Jones: Who Was A Slave For Forty-Three Years Contributor(s): Mitchell, Joe Henry (Illustrator), Jones, Thomas H. (Author) |
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ISBN: 1450593143 ISBN-13: 9781450593144 Publisher: Createspace Independent Publishing Platform OUR PRICE: $12.34 Product Type: Paperback Published: February 2010 |
| Additional Information |
| BISAC Categories: - Biography & Autobiography | Personal Memoirs - History | African American |
| Physical Information: 0.12" H x 5.98" W x 9.02" (0.21 lbs) 60 pages |
| Themes: - Ethnic Orientation - African American - Topical - Black History |
| Descriptions, Reviews, Etc. |
| Publisher Description: I was born a slave. My recollections of early life are associated with poverty, suffering and shame. I was made to feel, in my boyhood's first experience, that I was inferior and degraded, and that I must pass through life in a dependent and suffering condition. The experience of forty-three years, which were passed by me in slavery, was one of dark fears and darker realities. John Hawes was my first master. He lived in New Hanover county, N. C., between the Black and South rivers, and was the owner of a large plantation called Hawes's Plantation. He had over fifty slaves. I remained with my parents nine years. They were both slaves, owned by John Hawes. They had six children, Richard, Alexander, Charles, Sarah, myself, and John. I remember well that dear old cabin, with its clay floor and mud chimney, in which, for nine years, I enjoyed the presence and love of my wretched parents. Father and mother tried to make it a happy place for their dear children. They worked late into the night many and many a time, to get a little simple furniture for their home and the home of their children; and they spent many hours of willing toil to stop up the chinks between the logs of their poor hut, that they and their children might be protected from the storm and the cold. I can testify, from my own painful experience, to the deep and fond affection which the slave cherishes in his heart for his home and its dear ones. We have no other tie to link us to the human family, but our fervent love for those who are with us and of us in relations of sympathy and devoutness, in wrongs and wretchedness. My dear parents were conscious of the desperate and incurable woe of their position and destiny; and of the lot of inevitable suffering in store for their beloved children. |