eturn to the black for
the brave way in which he had risked his life in preserving ours.

"He is my property and you may thank me, but I don't want thanks and I
don't want a recompense, though I should have lost well-nigh five
hundred dollars if he had been drowned."

"Will you take five hundred dollars for the boy?" asked my father
feeling sure that unless he could obtain the slave, he should have no
means of rewarding him.

"No, stranger, I guess I won't," answered Mr Bracher, putting a quid,
which he had been working into form, into his mouth; "I don't want
money, and I wouldn't take a thousand dollars for the black if I did: so
you have your answer."

My father saw that it would not do farther to press the subject. As
soon as he properly could, he begged that my mother and I might be
allowed to retire.

"This is liberty hall, and your wife can do as she likes, and so can
you. I shall turn in myself before long, as I have had a pretty smart
ride."

On this my mother rose, and I had to return to my bunk, in which I was
soon fast asleep. Next morning I remember looking out of the window
just at daybreak and seeing a party of negroes mustered before being
despatched to their respective labours. Two white overseers, dressed in
broad-brimmed hats and gingham jackets, stood by with whips in their
hands, giving directions to the slaves, and at the same time bestowing
not a few lashes on their backs, if they did not at once comprehend what
was said to them. Among them I caught sight of Dio. One of the
overseers addressed him, and seemed to be putting questions to which
satisfactory answers were not given. To my horror down came the lash on
Dio's back, cut after cut being given with all the strength of the white
man's arm.

"O father, father, they are beating Dio. Do go out and stop the cruel
man," I exclaimed. My father looked on for a moment, and then hurried
out to the front of the house. I followed him, but Dio had disappeared
and the overseer was walking along whistling in the direction one party
of the blacks had taken.

"The poor fellow would only be worse treated were I to speak for him,"
said my father stopping short; "but it is terrible that human beings
should thus be tyrannised over by their fellow-creatures. It may not be
against man's laws, but it is against God's law, I am very certain. The
sooner we are away from this the better, but I should like to see poor
Dio before we go, and again