Mr. D——­ had a slave called old Daniel, whom he used to treat in the most cruel manner.  Poor Daniel was lame in the hip, and could not keep up with the rest of the slaves; and our master would order him to be stripped and laid down on the ground, and have him beaten with a rod of rough briar till his skin was quite red and raw.  He would then call for a bucket of salt, and fling upon the raw flesh till the man writhed on the ground like a worm, and screamed aloud with agony.  This poor man’s wounds were never healed, and I have often seen them full of maggots, which increased his torments to an intolerable degree.  He was an object of pity and terror to the whole gang of slaves, and in his wretched case we saw, each of us, our own lot, if we should live to be as old.

Oh the horrors of slavery!—­How the thought of it pains my heart!  But the truth ought to be told of it; and what my eyes have seen I think it is my duty to relate; for few people in England know what slavery is.  I have been a slave—­I have felt what a slave feels, and I know what a slave knows; and I would have all the good people in England to know it too, that they may break our chains, and set us free.

Mr. D——­ had another slave called Ben.  He being very hungry, stole a little rice one night after he came in from work, and cooked it for his supper.  But his master soon discovered the theft; locked him up all night; and kept him without food till one o’clock the next day.  He then hung Ben up by his hands, and beat him from time to time till the slaves came in at night.  We found the poor creature hung up when we came home; with a pool of blood beneath him, and our master still licking him.  But this was not the worst.  My master’s son was in the habit of stealing the rice and rum.  Ben had seen him do this, and thought he might do the same, and when master found out that Ben had stolen the rice and swore to punish him, he tried to excuse himself by saying that Master Dickey did the same thing every night.  The lad denied it to his father, and was so angry with Ben for informing against him, that out of revenge he ran and got a bayonet, and whilst the poor wretch was suspended by his hands and writhing under his wounds, he run it quite through his foot.  I was not by when he did it, but I saw the wound when I came home, and heard Ben tell the manner in which it was done.

I must say something more about this cruel son of a cruel father.—­He had no heart—­no fear of God; he had been brought up by a bad father in a bad path, and he delighted to follow in the same steps.  There was a little old woman among the slaves called Sarah, who was nearly past work; and, Master Dickey being the overseer of the slaves just then, this poor creature, who was subject to several bodily infirmities, and was not quite right in her head, did not wheel the barrow fast enough to please him.  He threw her down on the ground, and after beating her severely, he took her up in his arms and flung her among the prickly-pear bushes, which are all covered over with sharp venomous prickles.  By this her naked flesh was so grievously wounded, that her body swelled and festered all over, and she died a few days after.  In telling my own sorrows, I cannot pass by those of my fellow-slaves—­for when I think of my own griefs, I remember theirs.