The first pair of shoes that I recall wearing were wooden ones. They
had rough leather on the top, but the bottoms, which were about an inch
thick, were of wood. When I walked they made a fearful noise, and
besides this they were very inconvenient, since there was no yielding
to the natural pressure of the foot. In wearing them one presented an
exceedingly awkward appearance. The most trying ordeal that I was
forced to endure as a slave boy, however, was the wearing of a flax
shirt. In the portion of Virginia where I lived it was common to use
flax as part of the clothing for the slaves. That part of the flax
from which our clothing was made was largely the refuse, which, of
course, was the cheapest and roughest part. I can scarcely imagine any
torture, except, perhaps, the pulling of a tooth, that is equal to that
caused by putting on a new flax shirt for the first time. It is almost
equal to the feeling that one would experience if he had a dozen or
more chestnut burrs, or a hundred small pinpoints in contact with his
flesh. Even to this day, I can recall accurately the tortures that I
underwent when putting on one of these garments. The fact that my
flesh was soft and tender added to the pain. But I had no choice. I
had to wear the flax shirt or none; and had it been left to me to
choose, I should have chosen to wear no covering. . . .

Until I had grown to be quite a youth this single garment was all that
I wore. . . .

From the time that I can remember having any thoughts about anything, I
recall that I had an intense longing to learn to read. I determined
when quite a small child, that, if I accomplished nothing else in life,
I would in some way get enough education to enable me to read common
books and newspapers. Soon after we got settled in some manner in our