he slaveholder's{31 COMPARATIVE
HAPPINESS} child cared for and petted. The spirit of the All Just
mercifully holds the balance for the young.

The slaveholder, having nothing to fear from impotent childhood, easily
affords to refrain from cruel inflictions; and if cold and hunger do
not pierce the tender frame, the first seven or eight years of the
slave-boy's life are about as full of sweet content as those of the most
favored and petted _white_ children of the slaveholder. The slave-boy
escapes many troubles which befall and vex his white brother. He seldom
has to listen to lectures on propriety of behavior, or on anything else.
He is never chided for handling his little knife and fork improperly
or awkwardly, for he uses none. He is never reprimanded for soiling the
table-cloth, for he takes his meals on the clay floor. He never has the
misfortune, in his games or sports, of soiling or tearing his clothes,
for he has almost none to soil or tear. He is never expected to act like
a nice little gentleman, for he is only a rude little slave. Thus, freed
from all restraint, the slave-boy can be, in his life and conduct, a
genuine boy, doing whatever his boyish nature suggests; enacting, by
turns, all the strange antics and freaks of horses, dogs, pigs, and
barn-door fowls, without in any manner compromising his dignity, or
incurring reproach of any sort. He literally runs wild; has no pretty
little verses to learn in the nursery; no nice little speeches to make
for aunts, uncles, or cousins, to show how smart he is; and, if he can
only manage to keep out of the way of the heavy feet and fists of the
older slave boys, he may trot on, in his joyous and roguish tricks, as
happy as any little heathen under the palm trees of Africa. To be
sure, he is occasionally reminded, when he stumbles in the path of his
master--and this he early learns to avoid--that he is eating his _"white
bread,"_ and that he will be made to _"see sights"_ by-and-by. The
threat is soon forgotten; the shadow soon passes, and our sable boy
continues to roll in the dust, or play in the mud, as bests suits him,
and in the veriest freedom. If he feels uncomfortable, from mud or from
dust, the coast is clear; he can plunge into{32} the river or the pond,
without the ceremony of undressing, or the fear of wetting his clothes;
his little tow-linen shirt--for that is all he has on--is easily dried;
and it needed ablution as much as did his skin. His food is of t