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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 159 pages of information about Narrative of the Life and Adventures of Henry Bibb, an American Slave, Written by Himself.

I had not been in this prison many days before Madison Garrison, the soul driver, bought me and my family to sell again in the New Orleans slave market.  He was buying up slaves to take to New Orleans.  So he took me and my little family to the work-house, to be kept under lock and key at work until he had bought up as many as he wished to take off to the South.

The work-house of Louisville was a very large brick building, built on the plan of a jail or State’s prison, with many apartments to it, divided off into cells wherein prisoners were locked up after night.  The upper apartments were occupied by females, principally.  This prison was enclosed by a high stone wall, upon which stood watchmen with loaded guns to guard the prisoners from breaking out, and on either side there were large iron gates.

When Garrison conducted me with my family to the prison in which we were to be confined until he was ready to take us to New Orleans, I was shocked at the horrid sight of the prisoners on entering the yard.  When the large iron gate or door was thrown open to receive us, it was astonishing to see so many whites as well as colored men loaded down with irons, at hard labor, under the supervision of overseers.

Some were sawing stone, some cutting stone, and others breaking stone.  The first impression which was made on my mind when I entered this place of punishment, made me think of hell, with all its terrors of torment; such as “weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth,” which was then the idea that I had of the infernal regions from oral instruction.  And I doubt whether there can be a better picture of it drawn, than may be sketched from an American slave prison.

In this prison almost every prisoner had a heavy log chain riveted about his leg.  It would indeed be astonishing to a Christian man to stand in that prison one half hour and hear and see the contaminating influences of Southern slavery on the body and mind of man—­you may there find almost every variety of character to look on.  Some singing, some crying, some praying, and others swearing.  The people of color who were in there were slaves, there without crime, but for safe keeping, while the whites were some of the most abandoned characters living.  The keeper took me up to the anvil block and fastened a chain about my leg, which I had to drag after me both day and night during three months.  My labor was sawing stone; my food was coarse corn bread and beef shanks and cows heads with pot liquor, and a very scanty allowance of that.

I have often seen the meat spoiled when brought to us, covered with flies and fly blows, and even worms crawling over it, when we were compelled to eat it, or go without any at all.  It was all spread out on a long table in separate plates; and at the sound of a bell, every one would take his plate, asking no questions.  After hastily eating, we were hurried back to our work, each man dragging a heavy log chain after him to his work.

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