Master had an old negro in the family called Uncle Reuben.  This good old man and his wife were very good friends of my mother’s, and before she was sold they often met and sung and prayed, and talked about religion together.  Uncle Reuben fell sick in the middle of the harvest, and his sickness was very severe; but master having a grudge against uncle Reuben, and his old wife aunt Dinah, respecting a complaint that aunt Dinah had made to mistress about his having outraged and violated her youngest daughter, his spite was carried out by Mr. Cobb, the overseer, who forced Uncle Reuben into the field amongst the rest of us, and I was ordered to cradle behind him to make him keep up with the rest of the gang.  The poor old man worked until he fell, just ahead of me, upon the cradle.  Mr. Cobb came over and told him to get up, and that he was only playing the old soldier, and when the old man did not move to get up Mr. Cobb gave him a few kicks with his heavy boots and told Reuben, sick as he was, that he would cure him.  He ordered us to take off his shirt, and the poor old man was stripped, when Mr. Cobb, with his hickory cane, laid on him till his back bled freely; but still the old man seemed to take no notice of what Mr. Cobb was doing.  Mr. Cobb then told us to put on his shirt and carry him in, for he appeared convinced that Reuben could not walk.  The next morning I went to see him but he did not seem to know anybody.  Master came in along with the Doctor, and master swore at Reuben, telling him that as soon as he was well enough he should have a good flogging for having, by his own folly, caught his sickness.  The doctor here checked his master’s rage by telling him, as he felt at Reuben by the wrist, he could not live many minutes longer; at this master was silent, and a few minutes Reuben was dead.  Poor Aunt Dinah came in out of the kitchen and wept fit to break her poor heart.  She had four sons and three daughters, and they all joined in mournful lamentation.

When I was sixteen I was very fond of dancing, and was invited privately to a negro shindy or dance, about twelve miles from home, and for this purpose I got Aunt Dinah to starch the collars for my two linen shirts, which were the first standing collars I had ever worn in my life; I had a good pair of trousers, and a jacket, but no necktie, nor no pocket handkerchief, so I stole aunt Dinah’s checked apron, and tore it in two—­one part for a necktie, the other for a pocket handkerchief.  I had twenty-four cents, or pennies which I divided equally with fifty large brass buttons in my right and left pockets.  Now, thought I to myself, when I get on the floor and begin to dance—­oh! how the niggers will stare to hear the money jingle.  I was combing my hair to get the knots out of it:  I then went and looked in an old piece of broken looking-glass, and I thought, without joking, that I was the best looking negro that I had ever seen in my life.  About ten o’clock I stole out to the stable when