Of course we at once abandoned that cabin.
Finally we reached our destination--a little town called Malden,
which is about five miles from Charleston, the present capital of
the state.
At that time salt-mining was the great industry in that part of
West Virginia, and the little town of Malden was right in the
midst of the salt-furnaces. My stepfather had already secured a
job at a salt-furnace, and he had also secured a little cabin for
us to live in. Our new house was no better than the one we had
left on the old plantation in Virginia. In fact, in one respect
it was worse. Notwithstanding the poor condition of our
plantation cabin, we were at all times sure of pure air. Our new
home was in the midst of a cluster of cabins crowded closely
together, and as there were no sanitary regulations, the filth
about the cabins was often intolerable. Some of our neighbours
were coloured people, and some were the poorest and most ignorant
and degraded white people. It was a motley mixture. Drinking,
gambling, quarrels, fights, and shockingly immoral practices were
frequent. All who lived in the little town were in one way or
another connected with the salt business. Though I was a mere
child, my stepfather put me and my brother at work in one of the
furnaces.
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