temper and irritated at what
he was pleased to call Jerome's insolence, ordered him to follow him to
the barn to be flogged. The young slave obeyed his master, but those
who saw him at the moment felt that he would not submit to be whipped.

"No, sir," replied Jerome, as his master told him to take off his coat:
"I will serve you, Master Wilson, I will labor for you day and night,
if you demand it, but I will not be whipped."

This was too much for a white man to stand from a negro, and the
preacher seized his slave by the throat, intending to choke him. But
for once he found his match. Jerome knocked him down, and then escaped
through the back-yard to the street, and from thence to the woods.

Recovering somewhat from the effect of his fall, the parson regained
his feet and started in pursuit of the fugitive. Finding, however, that
the slave was beyond his reach, he at once resolved to put the dogs on
his track. Tabor, the negro-catcher, was sent for, and in less than an
hour, eight or ten men, including the parson, were in the woods with
hounds, trying the trails. These dogs will attack a negro at their
master's bidding; and cling to him as the bull-dog will cling to a
beast. Many are the speculations as to whether the negro will be
secured alive or dead, when these dogs once get on his track. Whenever
there is to be a negro hunt, there is no lack of participants. Many go
to enjoy the fun which it is said they derive from these scenes.

The company had been in the woods but a short time ere they got on the
track of two fugitives, one of whom was Jerome. The slaves immediately
bent their steps toward the swamp, with the hope that the dogs, when
put upon their scent would be unable to follow them through the water.

The slaves then took a straight course for the Baton Rouge and Bayou
Sara road, about four miles distant. Nearer and nearer the whimpering
pack pressed on; their delusion begins to dispel. All at once the truth
flashes upon the minds of the fugitives like a glare of light,--'tis
Tabor with his dogs!

The scent becomes warmer and warmer, and what was at first an irregular
cry now deepens into one ceaseless roar, as the relentless pack presses
on after its human prey.

They at last reach the river, and in the negroes plunge, followed by
the catch-dog. Jerome is caught and is once more in the hands of his
master, while the other poor fellow finds a watery grave. They return,
and the preacher sends his s