Aunt Priscilla was less stubborn and defiant in her spirit than Eliza and myself; and, I think, her road was less rough than ours.
In the month of August, 1833, when I had almost become desperate under the treatment of Master Thomas, and when I entertained more strongly than ever the oft-repeated determination to run away, a circumstance occurred which seemed to promise brighter and better days for us all.
At a Methodist camp-meeting, held in the Bay Side (a famous place for campmeetings) about eight miles from St.Michael's, Master Thomas came out with a profession of religion.

He had long been an object of interest to the church, and to the ministers, as I had seen by the repeated visits and lengthy exhortations of the latter.

He was a fish quite worth catching, for he had money and standing.

In the community of St.Michael's he was equal to the best citizen.

He was strictly temperate; _perhaps_, from principle, but most likely, from interest.
There was very little to do for him, to give him the appearance of piety, and to make him a pillar in the church.