up to the required task. There was, too, a forewoman, who, in like
manner, had charge of the female slaves, and also the boys and girls
from twelve to sixteen years of age, and all the old people that were
feeble. This was called the trash gang. Ah! it would make one's heart
ache to see those children and how they were worked. Cold, frosty
mornings, the little ones would be crying from cold; but they had to
keep on. Aunt Polly, our forewoman, was afraid to allow them to run to
get warm, for fear the overseer would see them. Then she would be
whipped, and he would make her whip all of the gang. At length, I became
used to severe treatment of the slaves; but, every little while
something would happen to make me wish I were dead. Everything was in a
bustle--always there was slashing and whipping. I remember when Boss
made a change in our overseer. It was the beginning of the year. Riley,
one of the slaves, who was a principal plower, was not on hand for work
one Monday morning, having been delayed in fixing the bridle of his
mule, which the animal, for lack of something better, perhaps, had been
vigorously chewing and rendered nearly useless. He was, therefore,
considerably behind time, when he reached the field. Without waiting to
learn what was the reason for the delay, the overseer sprang upon him
with his bull whip, which was about seven feet long, lashing him with
all his strength, every stroke leaving its mark upon the poor man's
body, and finally the knot at the end of the whip buried itself in the
fleshy part of the arm, and there came around it a festering sore. He
suffered greatly with it, until one night his brother took out the knot,
when the poor fellow was asleep, for he could not bear any one to touch
it when he was awake. It was awful to hear the cracking of that whip as
it was laid about Riley--one would have thought that an ox team had
gotten into the mire, and was being whipped out, so loud and sharp was
the noise!