University of Virginia Library

NOTE TO THE PUBLIC.

For many years before the Rebellion, my mind was queerly impressed with the awful condition of my Nation as slaves in the South.

I was educated to believe that it was all right for us to be slaves, though a native of Morgan County, Ohio, I pretended to believe it too; and when quite a boy, would ridicule the Abolitionists as fools, devils, mischief-makers, &c., whenever I was in the presence of my old Boss or the Anti-Abolitionists. Persecutions in 1836 against Abolitionists became quite prevalent, and the man that dared to say “colored men,” “colored ladies and gentlemen,” “Mr.” or “Mrs.” to colored people, did it at the risk of a coat of rotten eggs, or a fancy ride on an ugly rail, or to be dressed up with a shirt of tar and feathers for Sunday, even in Morgan County, but my heart secretly moaned all the time and said “Lord what can be done for my people.” As soon as I could write, which was not until

I was past twenty-one years old, a spirit of poetry, (which was always in me,) became revived, and seemed to waft before my mind horrid pictures of the condition of my people, and something seemed to say, “Write and sing about it— you can sing what would be death to speak.” So I began to write and sing. The first piece I wrote and sang in public, was for our School Exhibition on “Big Bottom,” in 1842; it was “Hail thou sweet and Welcome day,” found in this book, with a few changes made in 1846, to suit a West Indian Emancipation Celebration occasion.

In the Appendix will be found several of my productions which were written after the publication of my little book. The reader will find many things in this little work, especially the Colored people, which will bring to their memory, in all times to come, vivid pictures of the great Babylon of America, American Slavery, one of the ungodliest institutions that ever disgraced the history of a country since the creation of the world.

He will also find many historical facts that are worthy of preservation. He will also see flashes of prophecies, pointing to events which came to pass, and which passed before my mind while writing them, but I did not comprehend their exact meaning, but used them as poetic figures, though they seemed to me to be facts.

In presenting this little work to the public, I feel it to be my duty to guard the minds of the

people against an error, which is now prevalent among many.

Those who have read my composition, who hove had no history of my life, suppose that I have been a “Slave;” but this is not the case. I am a man, free-born—educated (superficially) in the Oberlin Collegiate Institute, Lorain County, Ohio.

I have often thought, that, if I had been well disciplined under the lash, that this experience would have so assisted my natural poetical endowments, that my style, taste, and spirit of writing would have been much more interesting. But when the public understands, that I was bound out when quite young, served under a hard master until twenty-one years old; after which, I got all the education that I now enjoy, (which is no more than a common English education,) the considerate portion of the community will excuse my simple figures and plain, undressed mode, remembering that I do not profess to be a Byron, Milton, Pollock, or Young.

In my selections of “Airs,” I have gathered such as are popular, and extensively known. Many superstitious persons, and perhaps, many good conscientious, well-meaning Christians, will denounce and reject the work on account of the “Tunes,” but my object has been to change the flow of those sweet melodies (so often disgraced by Comic Negro Songs, and sung by our own people,) into a more appropriate and useful channel; and I hope that my motives may be

duly appreciated; and that this little work, (the first of the kind in the United States,) may find a resting place and a hearty welcome in every State, community and family in the Union, and as far as a friend to the slave may be found.

This work is all original, though several of the songs have been re-published several times, under other names, and by other persons, they are my own Composition.