"If you will beat me," thought I, "you shall do so over my clothes." After many threats, which made no impression on me, he rushed at me with something of the savage fierceness of a wolf, tore off the few and thinly worn clothes I had on, and proceeded to wear out, on my back, the heavy goads which he had cut from the gum tree.

This flogging was the first of a series of floggings; and though very severe, it was less so than many which came after it, and these, for offenses far lighter than the gate breaking.
I remained with Mr.Covey one year (I cannot say I _lived_ with him) and during the first six months that I was there, I was whipped, either with sticks or cowskins, every week.

Aching bones and a sore back were my constant companions.

Frequent as the lash was used, Mr.Covey thought less of it, as a means of breaking down my spirit, than that of hard and long continued labor.

He worked me steadily, up to the point of my powers of endurance.