give me if I could get the consent of Captain Helm. I thought there would
be no trouble about that; and oh! how I dreamed of and anticipated the
happiness of being _something_ beside a slave, for a _little while at
least_. Almost every day I went to the store to talk to Gen. McClure of
this greatest happiness imaginable, "going to the lines!" and was
impatient for the chance to arrive that would send me there.

At last Gen. McClure wrote to Gen. Armstrong, to say that he was ready to
obey any order that he might send him, and march to "the lines," if his
services were needed; and, to _my_ inexpressible joy, marching orders were
returned. I nearly flew in search of Capt. Helm, never once suspecting
that he would object; because I knew that he did not then require my
services himself, and the pay would be quite as good as he had been
receiving for my time; besides I had so completely set my heart on going,
that it was impossible for me to dream of a disappointment so bitter as
that of being denied going "to the lines."

Oh! how then were my high hopes fallen, and how much more hateful appeared
that slavery which had blighted all my military prospects? Nor was Capt.
Helm's heartless and mercenary reply to my humble pleading any antidote to
my disappointed feelings and desire for freedom. He said, "you shall not
go; I will permit nothing of the kind, so let there be an end to it. The
_pay_ is all well enough, I know, but if you get killed your wages will
stop; and then who, do you suppose, will indemnify me for the loss? Go
about your business, and let me hear no more of such nonsense!"

There was an emergency I had not provided for; and, as I then believed,
the master could make no demand on or for the slaves beyond the grave, I
was silent; but both master and myself were mistaken on that point; for I
have since learned numerous instances where slaves have fought and died