and gave me a severe flogging. And, although
mother failed to help me at first, still I had faith that when he had
taken me back to the stable yard, and commenced whipping me, she would
come and stop him, but I looked in vain, for she did not come.

Then the idea first came to me that I, with my dear father and mother
and the rest of my fellow negroes, was doomed to cruel treatment through
life, and was defenceless. But when I found that father and mother could
not save me from punishment, as they themselves had to submit to the
same treatment, I concluded to appeal to the sympathy of the groom, who
seemed to have full control over me; but my pitiful cries never touched
his sympathy, for things seemed to grow worse rather than better; so I
made up my mind to stem the storm the best I could.

I have said that Col. Singleton had fine horses, which he kept for
racing, and he owned two very noted ones, named Capt. Miner and
Inspector. Perhaps some of my readers have already heard of Capt. Miner,
for he was widely known, having won many races in Charlestown and
Columbia, S.C., also in Augusta, Ga., and New York. He was a dark bay,
with short tail. Inspector was a chestnut sorrel, and had the reputation
of being a very great horse. These two horses have won many thousand
dollars for the the colonel. I rode these two horses a great many times
in their practice gallops, but never had the opportunity to ride them
in a race before Col. Singleton died, for he did not live long after I
had learned so that I could ride for money. The custom was, that when a
boy had learned the trade of a rider, he would have to ride what was
known as a trial, in the presence of a judge, who would approve or
disapprove his qualifications to be admitted as a race rider, according
to the jockey laws of South Carolina at that time.

I have said that I loved the business and acquired the skill very early,
and this enabled me to pass my examination creditably, and to be
accepted as a capable rider, but I passed through some very severe
treatment before reaching that point.

This white man who trained horses for Col. Singleton was named Boney
Young; he had a brother named Charles, who trained for the colonel's
brother, John Singleton. Charles was a good man, but Boney our trainer,
was as mean as Charles was good; he could smile in the face of one who
was suffering the most painful death at his hands.

One day, about two weeks after Boney Young and moth