The slave fell, but instantly rose up on his hands and knees, and was beaten down again by the stock of the overseer's gun.

The wounded wretch raised himself once more, drew a knife from the waistband of his pantaloons, and catching hold of the overseer's coat, raised himself high enough to inflict a fatal wound upon the latter.

Both fell together, and died immediately after.
Nothing more of special importance occurred until July, of last year, when one of our men named John, was whipped three times for not performing his task.

On the last day of the month, after his third whipping, he ran away.

On the following morning, I found that he was missing at his row.