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It is the commonest thing
for them to try to disgust their slaves with what they do not
want them to have, or to enjoy. A slave, for instance, likes
molasses; he steals some; to cure him of the taste for it, his
master, in many cases, will go away to town, and buy a large
quantity of the _poorest_ quality, and set it before his slave,
and, with whip in hand, compel him to eat it, until the poor
fellow is made to sicken at the very thought of molasses. The
same course is often adopted to cure slaves of the disagreeable
and inconvenient practice of asking for more food, when their
allowance has failed them. The same disgusting process works
well, too, in other things, but I need not cite them. When a
slave is drunk, the slaveholder has no fear that he will plan an
insurrection; no fear that he will escape to the north. It is
the sober, thinking slave who is dangerous, and needs the
vigilance of his master, to keep him a slave. But, to proceed
with my narrative.
On the first of January, 1835, I proceeded from St. Michael's to
Mr. William Freeland's, my new home.


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