This Diary Belongs To:

Lily, a Slave of the South

Dear Diary,

My name is Lily and I was born on February 26, 1830. I live on the very edge of Alabama and I am the slave of a strong, lazy man called Master George Wilson. I just call him Master. I live with my mother and father and although times are tough around here, I always look forward to nighttime. All the slaves gather around a campfire and sing jolly songs about Following the Drinking Gourd and Pursuing Freedom. I think I'm too young to understand what that all means, but I still enjoy the songs anyway.

Now I'm six and a half and today my mother, Ellie, told me to help carry hay to the horses and cattle in the barn. After I loaded all the haystacks in there with the help of my father, Johnny, I wanted to go to bed, but Mother had lots more work for me. I helped pick vegetables in the garden, I fed and cleaned up after all the barn animals, and my worst job was to carry many woodpiles to Master's mansion. When I complained about my weak muscles from dragging the wood to the big house, Master seemed like a beast with his attitude. "What's a warm mansion without a fire? Now get going, you lazy runt!" I wished to sit down to rest and drink from Master's fountain, but with his temper, I didn't dare stop. Besides, I overheard Johnny (my good friend) speaking to Mother about how he got whipped when he did something bad, even though he swears he did nothing. That was enough of a warning for me to stay away from trouble.