My dear reader will not understand me to say, that all nations are alike intelligent, enterprising and industrious, for we all know that it is far otherwise; but to man, and not to our Creator, should the fault be charged.  But, to resume our narrative,

Capt.  Helm was not a very hard master; but generally was kind and pleasant.  Indulgent when in good humor, but like many of the southerners, terrible when in a passion.  He was a great sportsman, and very fond of company.  He generally kept one or two race horses, and a pack of hounds for fox-hunting, which at that time, was a very common and fashionable diversion in that section of country.  He was not only a sportsman, but a gamester, and was in the habit of playing cards, and sometimes betting very high and losing accordingly.

I well remember an instance of the kind:  it was when he played cards with a Mr. W. Graham, who won from him in one sweep, two thousand and seven hundred dollars in all, in the form of a valuable horse, prized at sixteen hundred dollars, another saddle-horse of less value, one slave, and his wife’s gold watch.  The company decided that all this was fairly won, but Capt.  Holm demurred, and refused to give up the property until an application was made to Gen. George Washington, ("the father of his country,”) who decided that Capt.  Helm had lost the game, and that Mr. Graham had fairly won the property, of which Mr. G. took immediate possession, and conveyed to his own plantation.

Capt.  Helm was not a good business man, unless we call horse-racing, fox-hunting, and card-playing, business.  His overseer was entrusted with every thing on the plantation, and allowed to manage about as he pleased, while the Captain enjoyed himself in receiving calls from his wealthy neighbors, and in drinking what he called “grog,” which was no more nor less than whisky, of which he was extremely fond, notwithstanding his cellar contained the choicest wines and liquors.  To show his partiality for his favorite beverage, I will relate an incident which occurred between Capt.  Helm and Col.  Charles Williamson.  The Colonel, believing wine to be a healthier beverage than whisky, accepted a bet made by Capt.  Helm, of one thousand dollars, that he would live longer and drink whisky, than the Colonel, who drank wine.  Shortly after, Col.  Williamson was called home by the British government, and while on his way to England, died, and his body, preserved in a cask of brandy, was taken home.  The bet Capt.  Helm made considerable effort to get, but was unsuccessful.

Mrs. Helm was a very industrious woman, and generally busy in her household affairs—­sewing, knitting, and looking after the servants; but she was a great scold,—­continually finding fault with some of the servants, and frequently punishing the young slaves herself, by striking them over the head with a heavy iron key, until the blood ran; or else whipping them with a cowhide, which she always kept by her side