year, scarce a week passed without his whipping me. I was seldom free
from a sore back. My awkwardness was almost always his excuse for
whipping me. We were worked fully up to the point of endurance. Long
before day we were up, our horses fed, and by the first approach of day
we were off to the field with our hoes and ploughing teams. Mr. Covey
gave us enough to eat, but scarce time to eat it. We were often less
than five minutes taking our meals. We were often in the field from the
first approach of day till its last lingering ray had left us; and
at saving-fodder time, midnight often caught us in the field binding
blades.

Covey would be out with us. The way he used to stand it, was this. He
would spend the most of his afternoons in bed. He would then come out
fresh in the evening, ready to urge us on with his words, example, and
frequently with the whip. Mr. Covey was one of the few slaveholders who
could and did work with his hands. He was a hard-working man. He knew by
himself just what a man or a boy could do. There was no deceiving him.
His work went on in his absence almost as well as in his presence; and
he had the faculty of making us feel that he was ever present with us.
This he did by surprising us. He seldom approached the spot where we
were at work openly, if he could do it secretly. He always aimed at
taking us by surprise. Such was his cunning, that we used to call him,
among ourselves, "the snake." When we were at work in the cornfield, he
would sometimes crawl on his hands and knees to avoid detection, and
all at once he would rise nearly in our midst, and scream out, "Ha, ha!
Come, come! Dash on, dash on!" This being his mode of attack, it was
never safe to stop a single minute. His comings were like a thief in the
night. He appeared to us as being ever at hand. He was under every
tree, behind every stump, in every bush, and at every window, on the
plantation. He would sometimes mount his horse, as if bound to St.
Michael's, a distance of seven miles, and in half an hour afterwards you
would see him coiled up in the corner of the wood-fence, watching every
motion of the slaves. He would, for this purpose, leave his horse tied
up in the woods. Again, he would sometimes walk up to us, and give us
orders as though he was upon the point of starting on a long journey,
turn his back upon us, and make as though he was going to the house
to get ready; and, before he would get half way thither, he would turn