The Towers, with commendable enterprise, cleared a great number of acres
of land during the first year I lived with them, besides doing a heavy
business in the mill, store and distillery.

It was customary then for men to assemble at some public place for the
purpose of drinking whisky and racing horses.

One Saturday afternoon there was to be a race, and all was excitement.
Being young, I wished to go with the rest. I hurried through my work as
fast as possible, and then, with a trembling heart, set off in search of
my master, fearing lest he would refuse me the simple request. But he
happened to be in uncommon good humor, and readily gave his consent; and
away I went, "as happy as a lark." When I reached the race-ground, they
were just preparing to run the horses. Seeing me, they knew me to be a
poor friendless little slave boy, helpless and unprotected, and they could
therefore do with me as they pleased, and have some fine sport at my
expense.

When I was asked to ride one of the fast horses, I felt proud of the honor
conferred, and was assisted to mount, feeling highly elated with the lofty
position I had gained.

The word "go," was shouted, and the horse whirled off, and it seemed to me
as if he flew with the speed of lightning. My hat fell off the first
thing; and there I was, clinging with might and main to the neck of the
fiery animal, my head bare, my feet bootless, and my old stripped shirt
blown from my back, and streaming out behind, and fluttering like a banner
in the breeze; my ragged pants off at the knees, and my long legs dangling
down some length below; and at the same time crying "Whoa! whoa!" as loud