t in his character was intense selfishness. I think he was
fully aware of this fact himself, and often tried to conceal it. Capt.
Auld was not a _born_ slaveholder--not a birthright member of the
slaveholding oligarchy. He was only a slaveholder by _marriage-right;_
and, of all slaveholders, these latter are, _by far_, the most exacting.
There was in him all the love of domination, the pride of mastery,
and the swagger of authority, but his rule lacked the vital element
of consistency. He could be cruel; but his methods of showing it were
cowardly, and evinced his meanness rather than his spirit. His commands
were strong, his enforcement weak.

Slaves are not insensible to the whole-souled characteristics of a
generous, dashing slaveholder, who is fearless of consequences; and
they prefer a master of this bold and daring kind--even with the risk
of being shot down for impudence to the fretful, little soul, who never
uses the lash but at the suggestion of a love of gain.

Slaves, too, readily distinguish between the birthright bearing of
the original slaveholder and the assumed attitudes of the accidental
slaveholder; and while they cannot respect either, they certainly
despise the latter more than the former.{150}

The luxury of having slaves wait upon him was something new to Master
Thomas; and for it he was wholly unprepared. He was a slaveholder,
without the ability to hold or manage his slaves. We seldom called him
"master," but generally addressed him by his "bay craft" title--"_Capt.
Auld_." It is easy to see that such conduct might do much to make him
appear awkward, and, consequently, fretful. His wife was especially
solicitous to have us call her husband "master." Is your _master_ at the
store?"--"Where is your _master_?"--"Go and tell your _master"_--"I will
make your _master_ acquainted with your conduct"--she would say; but we
were inapt scholars. Especially were I and my sister Eliza inapt in this
particular. Aunt Priscilla was less stubborn and defiant in her spirit
than Eliza and myself; and, I think, her road was less rough than ours.

In the month of August, 1833, when I had almost become desperate under
the treatment of Master Thomas, and when I entertained more strongly
than ever the oft-repeated determination to run away, a circumstance
occurred which seemed to promise brighter and better days for us all.
At a Methodist camp-meeting, held in the Bay Side (a famous place for
campmeetings) about eig