to saying they were Abolitionists.
None of the Scotch of the writer's personal knowledge, at the period referred to, were otherwise than strongly Anti-Slavery.
There are said to be exceptions to all rules, and there was one in this instance.
He was a kinsman of the author, and a “braw” young Scotchman who came over to this country with the expectation of picking up a fortune in short order.
Finding the North
too slow, he went South.
There he met a lady who owned a valuable plantation well stocked with healthy negroes.
He married the woman, and became something of a local nabob, with the reputation of great severity as a master.
One day, with his own hand, he inflicted a cruel flogging on a slave who had the name of a “bad nigger.”
That night, when the master was playing chess with a neighbor by candlelight on the ground floor of his dwelling, all the windows being open, the negro crept up with a loaded gun and shot him dead.
The sad affair was regretfully commented on by the dead man's relatives, who, I remember, referred to his untimely ending as “his judgment,” and as a punishment he had brought upon “himself.”
My uncle and father did not conceal their unpopular views.
They openly voted the Abolition ticket.
In eight years, beginning with their two ballots, they raised the third party vote in their immediate vicinity to eight, and they boasted of the progress they had made.
They did not make public addresses, but they faithfully listened to those made by others in support of the cause.
They attended all Abolition meetings that were within reach.
They took the