to which I used to take the corn, once a week, tobe ground. The mill was about three miles fromthe plantation. This work I always dreaded. Theheavy bag of corn would be thrown across the backof the horse, and the corn divided about evenly on each side; but in some way, almost without exception, on these trips, the corn would so shift as tobecome unbalanced and would fall off the horse,and often I would fall with it. As I was notstrong enough to reload the corn upon the horse, Iwould have to wait, sometimes for many hours, tilla chance passer-by came along who would help meout of my trouble. The hours while waiting forsome one were usually spent in crying. The timeconsumed in this way made me late in reaching themill, and by the time I got my corn ground andreached home it would be far into the night. The road was a lonely one, and often led through denseforests. I was always frightened. The woodswere said to be full of soldiers who had desertedfrom the army, and I had been told that the firstthing a deserter did to a Negro boy when he foundhim alone was to cut off his ears. Besides, when Iwas late in getting home I knew I would alwaysget a severe scolding or a flogging.


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