loved him like a father. They always called him "Mars George." The
negro women would threaten to get "Mars George" to whip their bad
children, and when he whipped them, I have heard them say: "Served
you right. Did not give you a lick amiss." This was proving their
great confidence, they being willing for some one else to whip their
children. They were very sensitive in this matter and were not willing
for my mother to do this. My father would lay in a supply, while in
Cincinnati, of boxes of boots and shoes, arid get combs, head handkerchiefs,
and Sunday dresses, which would greatly delight his colored people.
Happy, indeed, would the negroes have been if all their masters
had been as my father was.

When we moved to Mercer County from Garrard, we had a sale.
It was customary then at such a time to have a barbecue and a great
dinner. The tables were set in the yard. I remember Mr. Jones Adams,
a neighbor and great friend of my father, brought over a two bushel sack of
turnip greens and a ham. I remember seeing him shake them out of the
bag. At this sale for the first, and only time, I saw a negro put on a
block and sold to the highest bidder. I can't understand how my father
could have allowed this. His name was "Big Bill," to distinguish him
from another "Bill". He was a widower or a batchelor and had no
family. There was one colored man my father valued highly, and
wanted to take with him, but this man, Tom, had a wife, who belonged
to a near neighbor. After we got in the carriage to go to our new home,
Tom followed us crying: "Oh, Mars George, don't take me from my
wife." My father said: "Go and get some one to buy you." This Tom
did, the buyer being a Mr. Dunn. Oh! What a sad sight! It makes the
tears fill my eyes to write it.

But a worse slavery is now on us. I would rather have my son sold