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As stated before, in 1857, when my second owner, Mr. T. L. Wynn died, I became the property of Col. R. M. Johnston. In the early winter of that year he went to Athens, Ga., and became a professor in the State College. As an important part of his effects, I was carried along with him and his family as carriage driver, house servant, and gardener. I was then fifteen years of age. As soon as I arrived in Athens, I felt an insatiable craving for some knowledge of books, and especially I was anxious to learn to read the Bible. What must I do? I was a slave and could not attend school, and it was considered unwise, if not dangerous for slaves to read and write. But my owners, although strict, were very kind, especially my master. So I determine to learn to read at all hazards, and take whatever risks there might be connected with it. There was a junk house in the city where rags were sold. I gathered and saved all the rags that I could, and sold them that I might get some money with which to buy books. After weeks of toil and intense vigilance in gathering and watching for rags that belonged to the first man that laid hands upon them, I had accumulated about 30 pounds. These I stuffed into the legs and seat of a pair of old white pantaloons, the cast-off garment of a large and long-legged man. At nights after tea, I was allowed to "go down town" for recreation. I hired a boy to help me carry the rags to sell them to the rag merchant. The boy put on leg of the pants on one shoulder, and the other leg on the other, and we both marched to town with bright dreams of wealth. Reaching the store, I lingered in the darkness in front of the door, and when the boy walked in with something that had the appearance of a fat man on his shoulders, the man said in a loud voice as if astonished at the strange sight, "What in the h-- is that you have on your back?" "Some rags," replied the boy. "Well, lay them on the scales," said the merchant. So we did, the rags were sold and the money was mine. With this money I bought books. I purchased at one time, two "Webster blue back spellers," a common school dictionary, Milton's "Paradise Lost," and a Bible. These then constituted my full stock of literary possessions, a library more precious than gold to me. There were several colored people in town that could "spell to baker," in the old speller, while others could go to "the a, b, ab's" or to "the b, a, ba's." The white children and an old colored man taught me the alphabet, after which I fought my way unaided through the depths of my ponderous library. Day by day I took a leaf from one of the spelling books, and so folded it that one or two of the lessons were on the outside as if printed on a card. This I put in the pocket of my vest or coat, and when I was sitting on the carriage, walking the yard or streets, or using hoe or spade, or in the dining room, I would take out my spelling leaf, catch a word and commit it to memory. When one side of the spelling leaf was finished by this process, I would refold it again with a new lesson on the outside. When night came, I went to my little room, and with chips of fat pine, and pine roots that were grubbed up form the roots near by, I would kindle a little blaze in the fire-place and turn my head toward it while lying flat on my back so as to get the most of the light on the leaves of the book. Thus lying on the floor with pine knots at hand and my blankets around me, I reviewed the lessons of the day from the unmaimed book. By these means I learned to read and write a little in six months. Besides, I would catch words from the white people and retain them in memory until I could get to my dictionary. Then I would spell and define the words, until they became perfectly impressed upon my memory.
In 1858, in Athens, Ga., I was converted and became a member of the Methodist Church. At that time Rev. W. A. Parks was sent as pastor to the colored church, while his uncle Rev. H. H. Parks, was pastor of the white people's church. During April and May of this year, Rev. H. M. Turner, (now Bishop) came to Athens and preached every night to appreciative congregations, and under his powerful sermons I experienced a change of heart, and became a zealous member of the church. I was taken into the church by Rev. Mr. Parks, and baptized and fellowshipped by his uncle, the Rev. H. H. Parks.
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