In the spring of 1828, my master sold me to a Methodist man, named ——­, for the sum of seven hundred dollars.  It soon proved that he had not work enough to keep me employed as a smith, and he offered me for sale again.  On hearing of this, my old master re-purchased me, and proposed to me to undertake the carpentering business.  I had been working at this trade six months with a white workman, who was building a large barn when I left.  I will now relate the abuses which occasioned me to fly.

Three or four of our farm hands had their wives and families on other plantations.  In such cases, it is the custom in Maryland to allow the men to go on Saturday evening to see their families, stay over the Sabbath, and return on Monday morning, not later than “half-an-hour by sun.”  To overstay their time is a grave fault, for which, especially at busy seasons, they are punished.

One Monday morning, two of these men had not been so fortunate as to get home at the required time:  one of them was an uncle of mine.  Besides these, two young men who had no families, and for whom no such provision of time was made, having gone somewhere to spend the Sabbath, were absent.  My master was greatly irritated, and had resolved to have, as he said, “a general whipping-match among them.”

Preparatory to this, he had a rope in his pocket, and a cowhide in his hand, walking about the premises, and speaking to every one he met in a very insolent manner, and finding fault with some without just cause.  My father, among other numerous and responsible duties, discharged that of shepherd to a large and valuable flock of Merino sheep.  This morning he was engaged in the tenderest of a shepherd’s duties;—­a little lamb, not able to go alone, lost its mother; he was feeding it by hand.  He had been keeping it in the house for several days.  As he stooped over it in the yard, with a vessel of new milk he had obtained, with which to feed it, my master came along, and without the least provocation, began by asking, “Bazil, have you fed the flock?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Were you away yesterday?”

“No, sir.”

“Do you know why these boys have not got home this morning yet?”

“No, sir, I have not seen any of them since Saturday night.”

“By the Eternal, I’ll make them know their hour.  The fact is, I have too many of you; my people are getting to be the most careless, lazy, and worthless in the country.”

“Master,” said my father, “I am always at my post; Monday morning never finds me off the plantation.”

“Hush, Bazil!  I shall have to sell some of you; and then the rest will have enough to do; I have not work enough to keep you all tightly employed; I have too many of you.”

All this was said in an angry, threatening, and exceedingly insulting tone.  My father was a high-spirited man, and feeling deeply the insult, replied to the last expression,—­“If I am one too many, sir, give me a chance to get a purchaser, and I am willing to be sold when it may suit you.”