When the wrath of God came upon them and took
all of the slaves away from them they could see nothing but tears and
curses to the God of Heaven, and some of them cursed the earth, the
stars, the moon. The negroes that had prayed so hard to God said that
was the cause of the war, for they could see something in their prayers
that seemed to reach up to heaven, and the answer had come for their
deliverance.
Is not this a great God who can hear the prayers of the faithful ones
when they pray? Do not we owe our lives and our all to this great and
good God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Ghost? And if we
should fail to recognize Him we should have a worse sin fall on us than
ever any one race had.
Well, to my story:
My brother James was my mother's oldest child. He was sent away to the
war to keep his master at home, and we did not hear from him for a long
time, but we made up our minds that if he did not get killed he would go
over to the Northern side as soon as he should get the chance, though we
did not see him to tell him to do so, for all of my mother's children
were like herself in the love of freedom. My mother was one that the
master could not do anything to make her feel like a slave and she would
battle with them to the last that she would not recognize them as her
lord and master and she was right.
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