to madness at one moment, and at the next reconciling myself to my
wretched lot.

I have already intimated that my condition was much worse, during the
first six months of my stay at Mr. Covey's, than in the last six. The
circumstances leading to the change in Mr. Covey's course toward me form
an epoch in my humble history. You have seen how a man was made a slave;
you shall see how a slave was made a man. On one of the hottest days
of the month of August, 1833, Bill Smith, William Hughes, a slave named
Eli, and myself, were engaged in fanning wheat. Hughes was clearing the
fanned wheat from before the fan. Eli was turning, Smith was feeding,
and I was carrying wheat to the fan. The work was simple, requiring
strength rather than intellect; yet, to one entirely unused to such
work, it came very hard. About three o'clock of that day, I broke down;
my strength failed me; I was seized with a violent aching of the head,
attended with extreme dizziness; I trembled in every limb. Finding what
was coming, I nerved myself up, feeling it would never do to stop work.
I stood as long as I could stagger to the hopper with grain. When I
could stand no longer, I fell, and felt as if held down by an immense
weight. The fan of course stopped; every one had his own work to do;
and no one could do the work of the other, and have his own go on at the
same time.

Mr. Covey was at the house, about one hundred yards from the
treading-yard where we were fanning. On hearing the fan stop, he left
immediately, and came to the spot where we were. He hastily inquired
what the matter was. Bill answered that I was sick, and there was no
one to bring wheat to the fan. I had by this time crawled away under the
side of the post and rail-fence by which the yard was enclosed, hoping
to find relief by getting out of the sun. He then asked where I was. He