when sitting in her room.  The older servants she would cause to be punished by having them severely whipped by a man, which she never failed to do for every trifling fault.  I have felt the weight of some of her heaviest keys on my own head, and for the slightest offences.  No slave could possibly escape being punished—­I care not how attentive they might be, nor how industrious—­punished they must be, and punished they certainly were.  Mrs. Helm appeared to be uneasy unless some of the servants were under the lash.  She came into the kitchen one morning and my mother, who was cook, had just put on the dinner.  Mrs. Helm took out her white cambric handkerchief, and rubbed it on the inside of the pot, and it crocked it!  That was enough to invoke the wrath of my master, who came forth immediately with his horse-whip, with which he whipped my poor mother most unmercifully—­far more severely than I ever knew him to whip a horse.

I once had the misfortune to break the lock of master’s shot gun, and when it came to his knowledge, he came to me in a towering passion, and charged me with what he considered the crime of carelessness.  I denied it, and told him I knew nothing about it; but I was so terribly frightened that he saw I was guilty, and told me so, foaming with rage; and then I confessed the truth.  But oh, there was no escaping the lash.  Its recollection is still bitter, and ever will be.  I was commanded to take off my clothes, which I did, and then master put me on the back of another slave, my arms hanging down before him and my hands clasped in his, where he was obliged to hold me with a vise-like grasp.  Then master gave me the most severe flogging that I ever received, and I pray God that I may never again experience such torture.  And yet Capt.  Helm was not the worst of masters.

These cruelties are daily occurrences, and so degrading is the whole practice of Slavery, that it not only crushes and brutalizes the wretched slave, but it hardens the heart, benumbs all the fine feelings of humanity, and deteriorates from the character of the slaveholders themselves,—­whether man or woman.  Otherwise, how could a gentle, and in other respects, amiable woman, look on such scenes of cruelty, without a shudder of utter abhorrence?  But slaveholding ladies, can not only look on quietly, but with approbation; and what is worse, though very common, they can and do use the lash and cowhide themselves, on the backs of their slaves, and that too on those of their own sex!  Far rather would I spend my life in a State’s Prison, than be the slave of the best slaveholder on the earth!

When I was not employed as an errand-boy, it was my duty to stand behind my master’s chair, which was sometimes the whole day, never being allowed to sit in his presence.  Indeed, no slave is ever allowed to sit down in the presence of their master or mistress.  If a slave is addressed when sitting, he is required to spring to his feet, and instantly remove his hat, if he has one, and answer in the most humble manner, or lay the foundation for a flogging, which will not be long delayed.