lying in the sweet corn, "dead drunk,"
while the demijohn quite empty, bottom side up, stared at mother with a
reproachful stare, and the oyster can which had served up and took me to
the house, and let Sally and Jordan lie in near by, bearing mute witness
against us. Mother picked me up and took me to the house, and let Sally
and Jordan lie in the sweet corn all night, to dwell on the events.
Immediately preceding our return to consciousness is a painful subject
to me as it was exceedingly painful then. I was most feverish the next
day with a head on my shoulders several sizes larger than the one I was
used to wearing. Sally and Jordan were enjoying about the same health as
myself, but the state of our health did not exempt us from mother's
wrath. We all received a good sound old-fashioned thrashing. A fitting
prelude to my first "drunk."

[Illustration: Mother Ran the Loom]

I suppose I acquired the taste for strong drink on this occasion; be
that as it may, the fact remains that I could out-drink any man I ever
met in the cattle country. I could drink large quantities of the fiery
stuff they called whiskey on the range without it affecting me in any
way, but I have never been downright drunk since that time in the sweet
corn patch. Our plantation was situated in the heart of the black belt
of the south, and on the plantations all around us were thousands of
slaves, all engaged in garnering the dollars that kept up the so-called
aristocracy of the south, and many of the proud old families owe their
standing and wealth to the toil and sweat of the black man's brow, where
if they had to pay the regular rate of wages to hire laborers to
cultivate their large estates, their wealth would not have amounted to a
third of what it was. Wealth was created, commerce carried on, cities
built, and the new world well started on the career that has led to its
present greatness and standing in the world of nations. All this was
accomplished by the sweat of the black man's brow. By black man I do not
mean to say only the black men, but the black woman and black child all
helped to make the proud south what it was, the boast of every white man
and woman, with a drop of southern blood in their veins, and what did
the black man get in return? His keep and care you say? Ye gods and
little fishes! Is there a man living today who would be willing to do
the work performed by the slaves of that time for the same returns, his
care and keep?