Chapter I: Part 1

OUT OF THE BRIARS

_An Autobiography_

AND

_Sketch of the Twenty-ninth Regiment_

_Connecticut Volunteers_

_By A. H. NEWTON, D.D._

Member of the New Jersey Annual Conference
of the A. M. E. Church

_With Introduction by Rev. J. P. Sampson, D.D._

PRICE $1.25

Printed By
THE A. M. E. BOOK CONCERN
Printers and Publishers
631 Pine Street
Phila., Pa.
1910

_Copyright, 1910
By Rev. A. H. Newton_

AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED

TO THE MEMORY OF MY DEAR
CHILDREN AND TO MY WIFE
LULU L. NEWTON

--_By the Author._

Contents

Page

Preface vii

Introduction xi

My Life--Ante Bellum 17

My War Record and Sketch of the Twenty-Ninth
Regiment, Connecticut Volunteers 29

My Ministerial Life and Labors 91

The Church; What It is. And what It Should Be 147

The Negro Problem 159

Sermons 175

Articles and Contributions 229

Resolutions, Etc. 255

List of Illustrations

Page

Rev. Alexander Herritage Newton Frontispiece

Rev. J. P. Sampson, D.D. 11

A. H. Newton in Military Uniform 29

Col. W. P. Wooster 33

Rev. T. J. Hill 43

Bethel A. M. E. Church, Woodbury 71

Rev. Alexander H. Newton--A young Pastor 91

Bishop Jabez P. Campbell, D.D., L.L.D. 95

Rev. Theodore Gould, D.D. 97

Bishop William Paul Quinn, D.D. 99

Bishop John M. Brown, D.D., D.C.L. 115

Rev. J. W. Cooper 117

Macedonia A. M. E. Church Camden 119

Bishop Henry M. Turner, D.D. 127

Rev. Joseph H. Morgan 143

Rev. Samuel G. Miller, D.D. 147

Preface

With no intention on my part to ever put in book form any matter concerning myself, many years ago I began keeping a daily account of the incidents of my life. I entered into this work conscientiously and let no day pass over my head without its record. I did this that I might improve myself and also provide for myself, family and friends, a record and reference. This work has grown into three large volumes. I have found this voluminous diary very valuable on many occasions, not only to myself but to many others.

My comrades of the grand old Twenty-ninth Regiment, Connecticut Volunteers, have frequently written me regarding persons and incidents of the Civil War, and brethren of the ministry have frequently consulted me through this diary for valuable information. This has led me to the conclusion that this knowledge would be more valuable and in better shape in published form.

So I determined that I would undertake the work of publishing my autobiography not in any egotistical sense, but as an humble service to my race and an inspiration to the young people of my race.

I have named the book, “Out of the Briars,” because the figure is a befitting one in my own life. Although free born, I was born under the curse of slavery, surrounded by the thorns and briars of prejudice, hatred, persecution and the suffering incident to this fearful regime. I, indeed, came out of the briars torn and bleeding. I came out of poverty and ignorance. I did not have any of the advantages of the schools. I learned what little I know by listening to the educated white people talk. I picked up a great deal in this way.

I am sure, therefore, that this volume will be read with the kindly spirit in which it is written. I have told my life story, and am now seventy-two years on my journey through this world. I have but a few milestones further to pass, or it may be, not one more; but at any rate, the chapters of my life are about closed and I am ready at any time to answer the call of the Captain of my salvation.

I sincerely trust that this book will become an inspiration to the young men and women of my race, that they may copy my good qualities and shun my weaknesses. If, in a small way, this supreme end is accomplished, I am amply repaid.

I desire to acknowledge my obligations to the Rev. Samuel G. Miller, D.D., Rev. I. W. L. Roundtree, D.D., Rev. C. A. A. Greene, B.S.T., Rev. J. P. Sampson, D.D., Rev. George E. Bivins, D.D., Miss Alice MacParland, and my wife Lulu L. Newton, without whose encouragement, inspiration, advice and assistance, this book would never have been written.

“Take my life and let it be,
Consecrated, Lord to Thee.”

Alexander Herritage Newton, D.D.

Rev. J. P. Sampson, D.D.

Rev. Dr. J. P. Sampson, a friend and contemporary, whose picture we present, though at that time a junior among them, he stood in the front ranks with Geo. Watkins, Douglas, Garnett, Langston and Phillips as an advocate for freedom, not only with eloquent speech but through his pioneer journal, _The Colored Citizen_ at Cincinnati, making it possible for hundreds, some of whom at that time were slaves, since, themselves leaders, now declining, but who took their lessons from these men, he was largely depended upon by the anti-slavery leaders; scholar, author and advocate for civic righteousness, an exemplar and teacher, a standard for those who followed, an old guard, whose life with others are full of achievement, yet still active, cheerful and happy, editing “A Jolly People,” among other books, running thousands every year, few colored men are better known. He has the largest charity for an enemy, matures gracefully and without asperity; he has given his life of useful service to God and the race. A graduate from two or three of our greatest colleges, especially in theology and law, and filling for some years various positions of honor and trust in the civil service of the government, subsequently giving up all secular prospects, he entered and has been for nearly forty years in the active ministry of the A. M. E. Church.

Introduction

To be requested to write an introduction to a book implies some acquaintance with, confidence in, and respect for, the writer thereof, on the part of the author of the book. Some authors solicit such a service because of the prominent position of the writer, rather than the thorough acquaintance which he has with the author. This may bring an added value to the book and some of the glow of honor to the author. But in this case, we are sure that the author of this book in no way sought such distinction or compliment; for like himself, the writer of this introduction, has come out of the same circumstances and conditions, and by the grace of God and his common sense, is what he is. Dr. Newton has selected a lifelong friend, a comrade in the toils and trials of this world, a co-worker in the great and common cause of humanity, and a brother-minister in the Gospel of Jesus Christ, to present him and his autobiography to the public. We were boys together, and he was a schoolmate of my brothers, J. B. K. and Jos. Sampson, being taught by John Steward Stanley, and from that time to this good day, we have known each other as brothers.

Dr. Newton’s life has been, what we call a success, neither rich nor poor, but of easy circumstances. This is to his credit, for a man of our race to be on the middle ground between riches and poverty, proves that Dr. Newton has been a great economist in the things of value, such as money, time, ability and opportunity. He has wasted but little and husbanded what he had. We are often tempted to make wealth the basis of our greatness, but Dr. Newton has sought a much grander foundation, that of serving his fellowman. He is, therefore, ending his life career, not in sullen disappointment and poverty, not in the gloated greed of one dying rich, but with the conviction that he has done his work well and fought a good fight and that there remains for him an inheritance, incorruptible, undefiled and that fadeth not away. The doctor has grown old gracefully. He is active in his labors, cheerful in his disposition, buoyant in his hopes, and confident in his faith. He is more than three score and ten young, not old; and he looks with the eye of a conqueror toward the glowing sunset of his life battles. Every day that he lives adds new joys to his hopes of a glorious immortality beyond the vale of tears.

This autobiography is the outgrowth of Dr. Newton’s carefully kept diary. It is the fruit of this life tree of his doings. Therefore, it is very valuable as the real unfoldment of a real life of constant action, habit and conduct. It is the practical realization of the ideals of the author--this indeed, makes it a real and true monument of his life. Some of these ideals made real, are a true and genuine charity; devotion to duty; a high sense of morality; a love of humanity; a loyalty to government; a hatred of sin and evil; a diligence in business; a faithful husband, father and friend. Like Bishop Henry McNeal Turner, he was too great to be little, and too humble to be great. He always seemed to be less than he was, the fulfilment was greater than his promises, the work greater than the plan. He was always the champion of the down trodden and the oppressed. He was ready to enter their cause with an army and to die with others for their welfare, or to go alone to his death. In all issues of right against wrong, Dr. Newton has been a Daniel.

After his war career, in 1872, Dr. Newton entered the ministry of the African Methodist Episcopal Church, in which he has labored most faithfully to the present time. He has been a most successful preacher of the Gospel of Christ, and great builder of churches, in their membership and edifices. The Church never had a better Presiding Elder, beloved by all the pastors of fine executive ability and sympathetic and wise in his advice. He has had a remarkable success during the forty years of his ministerial life.

Before the war, Dr. Newton was a member of the Abolition Movement and did some daring deeds in liberating slaves. From that time on, he has been the faithful friend of the race, seeking in every possible way, to uplift them. He has ever been the staunch advocate of higher education for the masses and especially of the ministry. During the war, as his record herein shows, he was a daring soldier, doing what he could on the battlefield to liberate his race.

He was the trusted adviser of all his Bishops, Past Masters of Thirty-third Degree Masons, Supreme Prelate of the Supreme Lodge of the Knights of Pythias of North America, South America, Europe, Asia, Africa and Australia; Commissary Sergeant in the Civil War; in all these functions of service, he proved himself a worthy officer and servant.

Like Booker T. Washington, he has come up out of great struggles and trials and has made himself strong thereby. He educated all his children in the schools and colleges of our country; bought his own home and was successful in business lines, and last but by no means least, at the age of 70 years, entered the Bible College of Philadelphia and completed the regular course in that institution, mastering New Testament Greek, Hebrew, Mental Philosophy, and the regular studies of the course. In 1909 he was honored with the degree of Doctor of Divinity from the same institution, a most befitting honor for such a man and such a life.

“Out of the Briars” ought to be a great inspiration to our young people, a real monument to this great man and great life, and a legacy of value to the race. Dr. Newton is an uncrowned Bishop, yet a real Bishop. He has been my faithful and consistent friend through all the ups and downs of my life. In poverty, adversity, in the times of need, he has been the friend, indeed. Whether as chaplain of a State Legislature or the humble pastor of a small church, he has been the same great man of God.

This book will be an ornament to every library as well as a most valuable acquisition thereto. “May his tribe increase,” is my prayer, and may our people follow this heroic and noble leader, to whom he has given his life of faithful, constant and unstinted service.

J.P. SAMPSON, D.D.,
P. E. Boston District, Asbury Park, N. J.

May 15, 1910.

My Life--Ante-Bellum

I was born in Newbern, Croven St., Craven County, N. C., November the first, 1837. I was born under the regime of slavery, a free child, my mother being a free woman. My childhood was the ordinary child life, of the colored children of the South. As a mere child, I looked out upon the world as beautiful and felt that all men and women were good and kind. I did not know of the distinctions, classes, conditions and grades of mankind. But as I grew older these distinctions were forced upon my tender heart and burned into my mind. I gradually came to realize my said condition, although free, and the sad condition of my race. My father was a slave, so that in my family, I learned what slavery was, I felt its curse in my bones and I longed for an opportunity and the power to play the part of a Moses in behalf of my people. I suppose that this was the wild dream of every child born during slavery. The awful condition of my people, the steel shackles of slavery, the slave block of the market place where husbands and wives, parents and children, were ruthlessly torn apart and scattered asunder, the whipping post, the slave quarters, the inhuman restrictions, such as denial of our own religious privileges, no ministers or churches of our race, no educational advantages to speak of, no social freedom among ourselves, these were some of the unspeakable conditions of my childhood life. But there was the bright and happy side of my life when a boy. With the thoughtlessness, the happy-go-lucky spirit of the boy, I entered into those plays and pleasures which make up the pastime of youth. I recall the many boys and girls, both white and colored, who were my mates in games and pranks. Like all boys, I had my little adventures, which were not always on the side of the right. One of the first practical lessons, I believe the first, that I ever had regarding the sterling worth of my mother I most vividly recall. Together with some other boys, we were guilty of stealing some peaches. It was not the proverbial watermelon this time. Fortunately we were caught by the proprietor of the orchard. It would be fortunate if all thieves were caught. I was taken in charge. I began to cry vigorously. I was asked what I wanted done with me. I begged to be taken home to my mother. This request was granted. Soon I was facing my mother. The gentleman told her of my offense. I expected, of course, that my mother would in some way intercede and waited with breathless expectation for some defense or some excuse or some release from my awful predicament. But my heart sank within me when she said to the man, “I have no thieves in my family.” So I was led away to face some fearful ordeal, I knew not what. When a boy’s mother turns against him for his evil-doings, there is no hope for him. But my tears, cries and youth touched the man’s heart and after leading me away from home towards the jail for a distance, he released me with some good advice. I learned in that wrong-doing that I need never expect my mother to uphold me in the slightest departure from the right path. It was a wonderful lesson and I doubt not, had a fine effect on my entire life.

I recall another experience which was much more severe in a physical way. I was bound out to a white man, Jacob G. Gooding, and placed under his foreman, Henry E. Bryan. I was ordered to carry a bench some distance. Then the devil said to me, “You are not a horse, why should you be doing the work of a horse?” I said to myself, this is true. So I decided that I would not do the work of a horse. Well, he soon came to see what the trouble was and found me and the bench together. He wanted to know why I had not obeyed his orders, I told him that I was no horse, that he could get a horse and cart and have that bench taken where he wanted it. We were soon in each other’s embrace engaged in a street fight. We were arrested and tried and sentenced to a whipping. Well, I was in for punishment, and being a free boy, the slave overseer nor his master could punish me. I was reported to my employer. The punishment decided on was forty lashes save one. So I was stripped and my employer plied the lash thirty-nine times. My back was lacerated and very painful and for three weeks I was unable to do any work. I suppose that I could have gone to work sooner, but I was determined that my punishment should cost my employer something as well as myself. It cost me thirty-nine lashes and the suffering and it cost him the loss of three weeks of my labor. This is but an illustration of the manner in which the colored people, even the free-born, were generally treated for their offenses. They were treated frequently worse than the brutes. For they knew that the Negro had enough intelligence to understand what his punishment meant and that the purpose of it was to reduce and keep him in perpetual servitude. This, of course, had to be done by mere brute force. But as the result of slavery there were many young men of the race who learned well some trade. They were apprenticed, as in my case, to some good workman, for at least four years or more. At the end of that time they were efficient, practical workmen who, if free, could command good wages. So that hundreds of fine artisans came of slavery who were able to begin at once the laying of the foundation of the history of a free people. They took up their several trades, and for both races, turned their hands to every advantage. It should always be remembered that the magnificent civilization of the South as to its material wealth and prosperity, was built up by the slaves of the South. The cities, the country homes, the plantations and all their improvements, the planting, cultivating, and harvesting of the crops, all was done by Negro labor. So that there should be set over to the account of the Negro race, not only their own progress since the Civil War, but also the progress of the south for at least a century before the war. There is another incident in my life at this time which may be interesting and also illustrate something of the workings of that noted system of bringing slaves to the North. That system of exporting slaves is known in history as “The Underground Railroad.” I was, of course, deeply interested in this means of travel in those days and tried to get all the passengers for this railroad that I could find. My boss-foreman, H. E. Bryan, had disobeyed his master and was threatened to be whipped. I assisted him to a place of safety. In all the slaveholders’ dwellings, slaves were employed in the house. They practically had full charge of affairs, and especially in the dining room, kitchen, etc. This part of the house was very seldom inspected, excepting to see that things were kept clean and orderly. Well, I dressed this slave up in a woman’s garb and conducted him through the streets to the house of one, Mr. Primrose, a man who stood high in the community, and held the confidence of all slaveholders as one of them and one of their defenders and supporters, a matter of course. I was successful in getting my charge safely into the kitchen. Then with the assistance of the slaves in charge of the kitchen, we placed him in the attic at the rear of the house, above the kitchen. Here we safely secreted him and here he was fed on the best of the land for a long while. There was a most diligent search made for the slave in the town and throughout the country. A reward was offered and he was advertised, but all to no avail. He could not be found high or low. At last things quieted down and we found opportunity to put him on this mystic train and send him to a clime where he enjoyed his freedom. This was indeed a daring attempt of mine, but it was in me to do it with a great deal of delight. And from that day to this, I have been proud of this one feat of my boyhood life which was on the side of right and humanity.

In 1858 I was bound out to Mr. Jacob Gooding to learn the trade of bricklaying and plastering, in Newbern, N. C. I worked for him four years having thoroughly learned the trade. Having finished the course satisfactorily to Mr. Gooding, he gave me $6, a suit of clothes, set of tools, and a Bible, and the advice to be a good boy. Afterwards I worked for Mr. Eusten. Then I decided that I would quit work and seek new fields. The occasion of my coming to this decision was as follows: Mr. Eusten gave orders that I should work on the fourth of July. I made up my mind that I would not work on that day. Of course, this was disobedience and would have called for punishment. So I had to do something. I cleaned up my tools, packed them away, and on the fourth of July, 1857 left for Beaufort, N. C. There I went on board a schooner and became cook, receiving $7.00 for my services. This schooner was en route for New York City. When I landed at pier 28 East River I had only my wages. I met a friend from the South, Mr. Alexander Hicks, and we arranged a plan by which I should escape from the schooner. He helped me with my trunk and we carried it to a horse car and landed at 100 Sands st., Brooklyn. I soon found my mother who had preceded me to the North. She was engaged in collecting money for buying my father’s freedom. She was aided in this work by the Abolitionists, among whom were Rev. Henry Ward Beecher, Rev. Henry Highland Garnett, Rev. Mr. Bennington, Mr. Arthur Tapin, Mr. Theodore Tilton and others. Mr. Timins, Kinsley, Thomas, and Robert Hamilton, Moses Coss, Ebenezer Chambers and others, assisted me in getting work. I was able to attend school some. While at school I made the acquaintance of Mr. William F. Powell, who has made his mark in the world and was honored by President McKinley with the position of minister to Hayti. Some of the other boys were Ben Myrs and Wash Parker, working against great odds and prejudice but aiming to make themselves an honor and credit to the Negro race. Many of these boys are now filling good positions and have made themselves honorable and law-abiding citizens.

In New York I worked some at my trade. But I did other work as I could find it. On the corner of Pack Slip and Water streets, I loaded trucks, chopped tea, weighed cotton, and I also did white-washing of houses (but thank God I have never white-washed evil doers), cleaned carpets and houses.

In 1859 I heard for the first time a minister of the A. M. E. Church, the Rev. James Morris Williams and the Rev. Geo. A. Rue, having also met Bishops Daniel A. Payne and William Paul Quinn. I was deeply impressed with the importance of making my life a means of serving God in the uplifting of my people. I was convinced even then that it does not follow that because our skins are dark and that we are identified with the Negro race that there is no chance for us to become potent factors in the uplifting of humanity and especially my own people; that a man should decide to do right and go ahead and God would certainly care for him all his days and give him the reward of all his labors. It is a great thing for a man to realize the responsibility of true manhood and let others learn this from his example. If these were my convictions in those dark days, what should be the feelings of young men of the race today, when the darkness of slavery has been changed into the light of liberty?

Sometime in 1860 Mr. Albert Storm requested me to aid him in getting his mother from the South. She was a slave. Millie, Sally, Ann and John Caraway were brought from the South, by the permission of the owner, by one Dolly Babb, to Brooklyn. Dolly said to my mother, “Now I am delivered from the devil out of hell. I am bound to serve my Heavenly Master and I shall serve Him well.” J. R. V. Thomas, William Isaacs, Rev. William Dixon, Paul Drayton, James Anderson, Dr. Peter W. Ray, Joe Bowen, Chas. H. Lansing, William Still, Rev. George W. Leveer and others, were a few of the men who were engaged in bringing slaves from the South and giving them their freedom. Men of grander qualities, morally, socially and religiously, I have never met.

In 1859 I was married, on June 16th, to Miss Olivia A. Hamilton, a daughter of Mr. Robert Hamilton, editor of an Anglo-African paper. Ada A. William Alexander and Mary Hamilton were born to us.

My War Record and Sketch of the Twenty-ninth Regiment

In 1861 when President Lincoln issued a call for 75,000 troops I engaged myself for the great Civil War, the War of the Rebellion. I went into the company of the Thirteenth Regiment, of Brooklyn. I went to the front, as the United States was not taking Negro troops. In 1862 there was a riot in New York City. The colored people were being dreadfully treated, being stoned, killed, and shown how despised they were even in the North. An orphan asylum (colored) was burned, having at that time three hundred children in it. I returned to Brooklyn under the command of General B. F. Butler, who had been ordered to put down the riot. While engaged in this mission I got into the very midst of the rioters. Soon they were after me. I ran through the streets of New York like a wild steer, while the rioters cried out, “Head the Nigger Off!” At length, I reached the New Haven boat which brought us safely to New Haven, Conn. While there I engaged at my trade with Mr. W. Clark. On the 18th of December, 1863, I enlisted in the Twenty-ninth Regiment, of the Connecticut Volunteers, as a private. On March 8, 1864, the regiment broke camp and left New Haven for Annapolis, Md., with Colonel W. B. Wooster in command. On the next Sabbath after we reached Annapolis, I attended the Methodist Church and listened to a powerful sermon by Rev. I. J. Hill, he being an orderly to Colonel Wooster.

While in the camp at New Haven, Conn., we employed our idle time in discussing the great problems that confronted the country at that time. Lieutenant Seymour, Uncle Fred Moore, Horace Louden, Rev. I. J. Hill and myself were the participants in these discussions. The new party, the Republican, was then formed, the prime purpose of which was the freedom of the slaves. We were most frequently surmising and prophesying as to what would be the final outcome and the ultimate benefits to the Negro race. There were vital questions at stake then. The spirit of patriotism and the desire to lift oppression, were afire in every breast of every true American. It would be well for the many young Afro-Americans of today to remember that the supreme purpose of the Republican party when it was organized, was not only to prohibit the further extension of slavery, but to exterminate it as a system of barter and traffic. On the other hand, the Democratic party at that time was in favor of the infernal system of slavery, and in our day, it is in sympathy with any movement that looks to keeping the Negro race in some kind of shackles. They are still in favor of keeping the Afro-American in slavery in some form. And they are succeeding reasonably well. For at last, we are forced to conclude that no man is really free unless he holds in his bosom the right of franchise and has received the liberty to exercise that right. Have the ten millions of Afro-Americans in the United States that right to-day? The answer comes from many States, NO!

Colonel of the 29th Regiment, Connecticut Volunteers]

Inspired with the thought of Shakespeare, who said, “He who would be free, let him first strike the blow himself,” my bosom burned with the fire of patriotism for the salvation of my country and the freedom of my people. I was rejoiced when the Hon. Abraham Lincoln was elected President of these United States, and when it was my fortune to see him emancipate the millions of members of the downtrodden race. I shall never forget when I saw him riding through the streets of New York, with throngs of humanity on either side of him. He was on his way then to the inauguration at Washington, D. C. to assume control of the terror-stricken country and to take the reigns of government in his own hands. While it became necessary that blood should flow freely, I was reminded, that no sin is ever wiped out without the spilling of blood. This seems to be a decree of High Heaven, even among the affairs of men. And God has made no exception to this decree, in the salvation of men from their personal sins. I was indeed willing to unite with the party, the Republican party and the abolition movement for their high and holy purposes, and to be associated with such men as Rev. Henry Ward Beecher, Rev. Henry Highland Garnett, Theodore Tilton, Lewis Tapen, William Still, of Philadelphia; Charles Sumner, Thaddeus Stevens and many other such men, whose platform was justice and right and freedom extended to all without regard to color or previous condition of servitude, and to enforce these rights and privileges even at the point of the bayonet.

At New Haven we had been promised $15 bounty on our enlistment, but this had not been allowed, no effort, it seems had been made to pay us this money, but we did not shirk our duty because we had not received our just dues. We had long been accustomed to such impositions; but we said that we would honor Old Glory, obey God, and contend for our prize, Liberty, and will contend in this conflict until the sound of clanking slave chains shall be heard no more in the length and breadth of this fair and goodly land, When kings, princes and nobles shall have been swept into merited oblivion and the Civil War forgotten, posterity will catch the glowing theme of Liberty and enroll with rapture the names of those heroes who bought this boon with blood on the battlefield.

The regiment paraded the streets while multitudes looked with wonder, some laughing, others cheering, mothers with their babies in their arms, crying and holding on to their husbands, as they marched away to do battle for the noblest of causes. It was a scene never to be forgotten. We marched from Chapel street, where we embarked on a Government transport. As I went on board the vessel, mother, father, wife and children, ladies and gentlemen, of my friends, both white and black, were bidding me goodbye and expressing the hope that I might have a safe return. I cannot express the sobbing emotions of my heart, when I ungrasped the hands of these loved ones and friends and turned my face away from them, knowing that I might be going to my death and never again see them in this world.

When we reached Annapolis, Md., we were encamped three miles out of town. Here for the first time we put up our tents. It was cold and damp. We dug holes about two feet wide extending from within outside the tent, and placed sheet iron over these and in these small trenches started our fires. In this way we were able to have heat within and force the smoke outside.

The colored people in this place were afraid to speak to us. Their masters looked on us with contempt. On Sunday a reverend gentleman came into the camp to preach to us and we listened to a very interesting sermon. After remaining here for eight or ten days, we received orders to strike tents. We left for Hilton Head, S. C., arriving at this place April 16, 1864. We marched through the main street and went into camp with the Twenty-sixth, of New York. On May 25 the paymaster arrived at Beaufort, S. C., where the Twenty-ninth Regiment was at this time stationed, and our spirits were greatly lifted up when we saw him, for as yet we had received no pay for our services. But when we were told by him that we could receive only $7 per month each, for our services our spirits fell. So I, together with the rest of my comrades, was really disgusted with this failure on the part of the Government to give us a decent compensation for our work as soldiers. The officers advised us to take it and assured us that at the next payment we should receive our full compensation. We decided to follow their advice. We quieted our passions and went to work like good soldiers. My great desire was to get into contact with the Southern forces that we might be working out the decision of this great problem. I had no ill feeling for the Southern white people, some of them had been my best friends; but this was not a personal matter, but a question of national issue, involving the welfare of millions, and my soul was on fire for the question, Slavery or No Slavery, to be forever settled and that too as soon as possible.

While the troops were at Bermuda Hundred having disembarked from the transport Alabama, I recalled an incident. When my father and mother were sitting at the table of my father’s owner, Master Park Custis, a son of Mr. and Mrs. Custis, saw a piece of pie on the table and started to help himself, without any formalities, my mother objected to his uncouthness, caught hold of him and would have handled him quite roughly, but my father caught hold of her and held her until the youngster got away with his prize. He was very insolent and insulting. It all came over me and I thought how I would like to find him at that time and administer the very flogging which my dear mother started to give him. I was indeed in a proper mood to have done it, if I had came across him. This is but a little illustration of hundreds of incidents that came into my mind when the army was in the South, and as I felt then, that I was duly protected. I confess that I had a burning desire to eke out some vengeance which for years had been pent up in my nature. But, of course, from the Christian standpoint, this was all wrong. I was all wrong. I was then on a much higher mission than trying to get personal vengeance on those who had mistreated me and mine. I was fighting for the liberty of my people and the righting of many wrongs that belonged to their social and religious welfare. While I had not learned much of the laws of commerce and politics, I knew only a little of the arts and sciences, which I had picked up here and there, by an attentive mind, in mixing with the educated people of the South; I knew nothing of military science, but I had been watching the Southerners drill for several years seemingly getting ready for some unexpected conflict; but I did know that the time was fast approaching when a great problem would have to be settled by bloodshed, when I would be called on to make my life a personal sacrifice on the altar of my country and for the sake of my people. I knew that slavery and its inhuman machinery must be put out of existence and that the simple principles of liberty of thought and action in politics, society and religion must prevail. And, at this time, I was in the full realization of what it meant to be again in the South, not a cringing black man, but a proud American soldier with the Union and Old Glory behind, before, over and under me. I had heard, in the fifties, from the Southerners, that there would be a war and that if any of the colored people aided the North in it, they would catch them and cut out their tongues and make them drink their mothers’ blood. Well, at this time, I was in the South to have my tongue cut out and to drink my mother’s blood if it had been necessary. But thank God, I helped to save my own tongue and my mother’s blood and my race! This is enough glory for me!

All the soldiers of the Twenty-ninth Regiment, although dark-skinned, felt the full responsibility of their mission. They were in the South to do, to dare, and to die. And while they had not been trained in military tactics at West Point and were backward in their movements, they had been to the armory of God and had received weapons of the heart, that made them daring and dangerous foes--men to be really reckoned with. And I am proud to say, that the history of the colored man in warfare has been an enviable one. He has always showed his patriotism by action, by deeds of sacrifice, by death itself. We had the same muscle, the same strength, the same heart, the same conscience, the same cause, the same right, the same liberty as the white man. We were fighting under the same flag and the same God. I remember the words of General Saxon, “Boys, if you want to make good soldiers you must look a white man straight in the face and let him know that you are a man.” This gave us fresh courage to press forward as soldiers to a certain victory.

On the 14th of August, 1864, a time long to be remembered with us, an oppressively hot day, we marched into Virginia. We were worn out, weary, thirsty, hungry, and completely exhausted. We were compelled to carry our blankets, knapsack, musket, and sixty pounds of cartridges. About 4 P. M. we reached the headquarters of General Birney, in the woods and encamped. I was so overcome with the heat that I fell to the ground and was soon asleep. We had no feather beds to lie upon, only the bare ground--but this bed always supplied by Mother Earth, was delightful this time for rest. We had for our dinner, breakfast and supper, half-done salt pork, which was placed on a stick and held over a blaze to warm it; hard tack, on which one could hardly make an impression with the teeth, and sometimes coffee, if it could be gotten. These were some of the hardships of the soldier and these were enough; but when you add to these the mental condition of many, such as myself, almost afraid of my own shadow, ready to shoot at anything that made a threatening noise,--I remember that I shot at the limb of a tree floating down the river, thinking that it was a rebel skiff with spies--it was a sore and trying ordeal. Every soldier was in constant expectation of surprises from the Johnnies, or rebels. Lee’s and Johnson’s army was near Buzzard’s Roost, in face of a rocky-faced ridge, to pass him meant suffering and death. We were surrounded by Dutch Gap Canal, James River, over which we had to cross on a pontoon bridge, and Fort Hell to be captured and taken. But knowing that Generals Weitzel, Sherman, Doubleday and Butler had 35,200 men under them, we went bravely forward, determined that Old Glory should not trail in the dust.

We crossed the pontoon bridge near Deep Bottom and marching about two miles, halted in a corn field. Here we rested, but in momentary readiness for a call to action as the rebels were very near us. We were soon aroused and called to the fort at Malvern Hill. Here we entered into an engagement with the rebels and many were wounded, killed and taken prisoners. I had a very narrow escape and thought several times that “my time” had come. I remember a twenty-pound cannon ball coming towards me, I could see it distinctly through the smoke. It looked like it had been sent especially for me. I said quickly, “Lord, you promised that a thousand should fall at my side, but that it should not come nigh me.” It was quick praying, quick thinking, quick coming; but when the ball was within about three feet of me it struck the ground and bounded over my head. So I was saved. God’s promise was fulfilled in my case.

On the 16th we joined the Third Division, Tenth Army Corps, General Birney’s Brigade, composed of the Twenty-second, Seventh, Eighth, Ninth and Twenty-ninth, United States Cavalry Troops, numbering 5000 men. We took up our march for Jones’ Landing, recrossed the pontoon bridge under very disagreeable circumstances, rain, mud and slush, but we were thankful and cheerful; glad that we had not been killed, or wounded or taken prisoners, in the encounter just passed through. Again we camped in an open field and raised our tents, prepared our bacon and coffee and hard tack. We were soon ready to take a good night’s sleep. I remembered my loved ones and wondered how they were faring and my privations, but I found myself willing to undergo all this for the cause of liberty.

On the 17th we arose early and received word to advance. In a short time we were in a fierce battle. Our lieutenant colonel was wounded in the engagement. Again, I thought that my time had come. By some awkward movement, I was thrown into the line of the enemy. The Johnnies were very much excited and did their best to capture me, but I succeeded in getting back into the Union lines. I knew then that the prayers of my good old mother were being heard; for surely the Lord delivered me from the snare of the fowler and from the noisome pestilence. Our lieutenant colonel had his horse shot from under him and Orderly I. J. Hill was wounded.

Orderly 29th Regiment, Connecticut Volunteers]

I prayed in this battle whenever I had opportunity to look towards Heaven, for grape and canister and bullets of all shapes and sizes were falling thick and fast about me. We were in close quarters with the enemy and our ranks were being thinned by reason of the wounded and dead lying on the battlefield. Although I came out of this battle pretty well shaken up, excepting for a few scratches, my life was on the altar for my country and my people, and I was not especially concerned as to the outcome regarding my own life; but I was determined to do all that I could to bring our cause to a victorious end. The Union forces moved back and remained all day about twelve miles from Richmond.

On the 18th, the Twenty-ninth Regiment, of which I was commissary sergeant, and the Third Division, moved down the valley, halting in the open fields for two hours. We were opposite the pontoon bridge which crossed the Chickahominy, and remained until the bridge was put in repair. While here I gave out hard tack and pork to the soldiers as best I could. For myself, I built a little fire and roasted a bit of pork over the fire, which together with water from the river, formed my meal. On the 20th we marched for the forts on the right of Point Rock Hospital, near Petersburg. On the 21st we were almost flanked by the rebels and retreated to Malvern Hill and repaired the breastworks. Here we had another skirmish. Some lost their lives and others were wounded, but we were successful in capturing seventy-five prisoners.

On the 23d we crossed the James River on the pontoon bridge, passing the heights where the New Jersey Battery was stationed. They greeted us with shouts and “Hurrah boys! we are here to stay!” Such a round of cheers you never heard. You would not have thought that they were on their way to battle, and some to death and the Judgment Throne. Uncle Freddie Moore and Orderly I. J. Hill were the only preachers we had with us, excepting the chaplain. They used to say to us, “boys get ready, for if there ever were a time when you should be ready, it is now; for you do not know when you may be called to go, you are continually in death’s jaws.”

We were soon in front of Petersburg, Va., looking upon the doomed city. We were greeted by a shell from the rebels, or Grey Backs, as we sometimes called them. It fell near the colonel, who was sitting on his horse at the right of the brigade. We countermarched and fell back to the woods, where we remained until 5 o’clock, when orders were received from the general to fall back to the fort and protect the pontoon bridge. On our way we met a lot of troopers making their way to the front, who wanted to know our reason for returning. We told them that the rebels were after us. It was very amusing to see them falling into line. Some of them could march faster than we. We reached the fort, but when we found that the Johnnies were not coming after us, we became anxious to see them and meet the issue. We found quite a number of our associates from New Haven and Hartford, Conn., and Woodbury, N. J. We were all delighted that our lives had been spared to see each other again in the flesh and chatted freely about our friends at home, our wives, mothers and children. I had often heard of the horrors of war, but now I began to experience what it meant, in the joy of meeting friends whom I never expected to see again on the earth, or at least some of them. There was a sense in which I had a new understanding of that marvelous passage of Scripture, regarding death, “Oh death, where is thy sting; Oh, grave, where is thy victory.” We had not yet felt the sting of death and we had not experienced the victory of the grave, yet we had been in the very midst of both.

Once again we marched in front of the horrible pit, Petersburg. Some of the whites said, see they are taking those colored soldiers to the slaughter pen. Truly, they had said so, for I never saw such a scene the first night. Shot and shell were raining fast around us. Henry Migs, a native of Africa, was killed. He died as a soldier, true to his adopted country, but a stranger to God. I thought that every bullet was sent for me and was doing some real praying. We do not know what prayer is, until we are reduced to our extremity. Then we realize with a new experience, that our extremity is God’s opportunity. I told the Lord that He had promised to “Rescue the perishing and care for the dying,” and that I wanted Him to keep the promise of that song, so far as I was concerned. Well, praise His name, He did so. Thank God to-day that I am still living and permitted to write this bit of fearful experience, so others may know what it is to trust in God.

On the 24th, Private Sam Bertim, of Company E, was killed, having been shot through the head. Private George Porter was also killed. Colonel Wooster was taken sick and was carried from the rifle pits to the rear. The rebels captured one of our officers, while changing those on picket duty. Two men from the Twenty-ninth were slaughtered, they were members of Company A. The colored troops did some good fighting in this engagement. We were told by the enemy that if we were captured our tongues would be cut out, or we would be starved to death; that there would be no exchange of prisoners in our case. So this was a rather fearful inspiration, but it served its purpose, of causing us to fight to the best of our ability; for we really feared that in case we were captured that such barbarities might be administered to us.

On the 1st of September we were ordered to strike tents and to move on, we knew not whither we were going. We did not care either, for now we were thoroughly enthused with the issues of war. We had tasted of the dangers of battle, and this taste brought out the desire that we should fight to the finish. Some of our dear friends had laid down their lives already, and we reasoned that if it should be necessary for them to give such a sacrifice, that we were no better than they. So in our judgment, we were becoming calm, and in our determination, we were becoming more and more fixed.

With President Lincoln and our great generals and loyal soldiers, we felt that the issue was assured. Of course we did not forget the divine side of the question, that God was on His throne and that right and justice and mercy would at last prevail. While it had always been said that this was a white man’s country, we were determined that the black man should share in this honor of ownership. And the best way that this ownership could be established was through the loyalty of the black man on the battlefield. For surely it will be conceded that when a man has bought his adopted country by his blood, it is his own. While, as a race, the Negro race, this is our adopted land, yet as individuals, it is our native land, our fatherland.

The colored troops numbered at this time about 75,000. The Twenty-ninth Regiment, which was my own, formed the center. We were in line of march toward the city but were turned in our course and crossed the pontoon bridge, which landed us near the city of Petersburg. When daylight came we were on the Old Market Road and headed for Richmond, Va. We were very much exhausted and were hoping for a rest, when we heard the music of the bugle, which told us that our rest had come.

At this time it was dangerous for live things to get in our way, we were hungry for something besides hard tack, bad coffee and salt pork. We wanted fresh meat and plenty of it. So it was a bad time for chickens and terrapin, for when we could find these living edibles, we generally appropriated them without any thought of the criminality of the act or of the danger of being detected or arrested. Our hunger gave us license to satisfy it in the quickest and best way available.