win the money. Oh! the horrible details
that that preacher gave of that day's sport, of the lashings, and
faintings, and revivals, with washes of strong brine, the prayers for
mercy, and the recurring moan!

"I no curse Jesus, Massa! I no curse Jesus; Jesus die for me, Massa; I
die for Jesus?"

As the sun went down Jesus took him, and his merciful master had sold a
worthless nigger for one hundred dollars. But, the only point which the
preacher made, was that one in favor of religion. When it could so
support a nigger, what might it not do for one of the superior race?

For months I saw every day a boy who could not have been more than ten
years old, but who seemed to be eight, and who wore an iron collar with
four projections, and a hoop or bail up over his head. This had been put
on him for the crime of running away; and was kept on to prevent a
repetition of that crime. The master, who thus secured his property, was
an Elder in the Second Presbyterian church, and led the choir.

The principal Baptist preacher owned and hired out one hundred slaves;
took them himself to the public mart, and acted as auctioneer in
disposing of their services. The time at which this was done, was in the
Christmas holidays, or rather the last day of the year, when the slaves'
annual week of respite ended.

A female member of the Fourth St. Methodist church was threatened with
discipline, for nailing her cook to the fence by the ear with a
ten-penny nail. The preacher in charge witnessed the punishment from a
back window of his residence. Hundreds of others witnessed it, called by
the shrieks of the victim; and his reverence protested, on the ground
that such scenes were calculated to injure the church.

CHAPTER X.

KENTUCKY CONTEMPT FOR LABOR.--AGE, 23, 24.

To a white woman in Louisville, work was a dire disgrace, and one
Sabbath four of us sat suffering from thirst, with the pump across the
street, when I learned that for me to go for a pitcher of water, would
be so great a disgrace to the house as to demand my instant expulsion.

I grew tired doing nothing. My husband's business did not prosper, and I
went to a dressmaker and asked for work. She was a New England woman,
and after some shrewd questions, exclaimed:

"My dear child, go home to your mother! What does your husband mean?
Does he not know you would be insulted at every step if you work for a
living? Go home--go home to your mother!"

I was homesick, and t