ime in my life, to be a field hand; and in my new employment I found
myself even more awkward than a green country boy may be supposed to be,
upon his first entrance into the bewildering scenes of city life; and my
awkwardness gave me much trouble. Strange and unnatural as it may seem,
I had been at my new home but three days, before Mr. Covey (my brother
in the Methodist church) gave me a bitter foretaste of what was in
reserve for me. I presume he thought, that since he had but a single
year in which to complete his work, the sooner he began, the better.
Perhaps he thought that by coming to blows at once, we should mutually
better understand our relations. But to whatever motive, direct or
indirect, the cause may be referred, I had not been in his possession
three whole days, before he subjected me to a most brutal chastisement.
Under his heavy blows, blood flowed freely, and wales were left on
my back as large as my little finger. The sores on my back, from this
flogging, continued for weeks, for they were kept open by the rough and
coarse cloth which I wore for shirting. The occasion and details of this
first chapter of my experience as a field hand, must be told, that the
reader may see how unreasonable, as well as how cruel, my new master,
Covey, was.{162} The whole thing I found to be characteristic of the
man; and I was probably treated no worse by him than scores of lads who
had previously been committed to him, for reasons similar to those
which induced my master to place me with him. But, here are the facts
connected with the affair, precisely as they occurred.

On one of the coldest days of the whole month of January, 1834, I was
ordered, at day break, to get a load of wood, from a forest about two
miles from the house. In order to perform this work, Mr. Covey gave me
a pair of unbroken oxen, for, it seems, his breaking abilities had
not been turned in this direction; and I may remark, in passing, that
working animals in the south, are seldom so well trained as in the
north. In due form, and with all proper ceremony, I was introduced
to this huge yoke of unbroken oxen, and was carefully told which was
"Buck," and which was "Darby"--which was the "in hand," and which was
the "off hand" ox. The master of this important ceremony was no less a
person than Mr. Covey, himself; and the introduction was the first of
the kind I had ever had. My life, hitherto, had led me away from horned
cattle, and I had no knowledge