For the purpose of somewhat disguising myself,
I bought and wore a very good second-hand white
beaver, an article which I had never indulged in
before. So just before we arrived at Washington,
an uncouth planter, who had been watching me
very closely, said to my master, "I reckon, stranger,
you are 'SPILING' that ere nigger of yourn, by letting
him wear such a devilish fine hat. Just look at the
quality on it; the President couldn't wear a better.
I should just like to go and kick it overboard."
His friend touched him, and said, "Don't speak so
to a gentleman." "Why not?" exclaimed the fellow.
He grated his short teeth, which appeared to be
nearly worn away by the incessant chewing of
tobacco, and said, "It always makes me itch all
over, from head to toe, to get hold of every d----d
nigger I see dressed like a white man. Washington
is run away with SPILED and free niggers. If I had
my way I would sell every d----d rascal of 'em way
down South, where the devil would be whipped out
on 'em."

This man's fierce manner made my master feel
rather nervous, and therefore he thought the less
he said the better; so he walked off without
making any reply. In a few minutes we were
landed at Washington, where we took a conveyance
and hurried off to the train for Baltimore.