I was one day shoeing a horse in the shop yard. I had been stooping for
some time under the weight of the horse, which was large, and was very
tired; meanwhile, my master had taken his position on a little hill just
in front of me, and stood leaning back on his cane, with his hat drawn
ever his eyes. I put down the horse's foot, and straightened myself up to
rest a moment, and without knowing that he was there, my eye caught his.
This threw him into a panic of rage; he would have it that I was watching
him. "What are you rolling your white eyes at me for, you lazy rascal?" He
came down upon me with his cane, and laid on over my shoulders, arms, and
legs, about a dozen severe blows, so that my limbs and flesh were sore for
several weeks; and then after several other offensive epithets, left me.

This affair my mother saw from her cottage, which was near; I being one of
the oldest sons of my parents, our family was now mortified to the lowest
degree. I had always aimed to be trustworthy; and feeling a high degree of
mechanical pride, I had aimed to do my work with dispatch and skill, my
blacksmith's pride and taste was one thing that had reconciled me so long
to remain a slave. I sought to distinguish myself in the finer branches of
the business by invention and finish; I frequently tried my hand at making
guns and pistols, putting blades in penknives, making fancy hammers,
hatchets, sword-canes, &c., &c. Besides I used to assist my father at
night in making straw-hats and willow-baskets, by which means we supplied
our family with little articles of food, clothing and luxury, which slaves
in the mildest form of the system never get from the master; but after
this, I found that my mechanic's pleasure and pride were gone. I thought
of nothing but the family disgrace under which we were smarting, and how
to get out of it.

Perhaps I may as well extend this note a little. The reader will observe
that I have not said much about my master's cruel treatment; I have aimed