I will here relate a little incident concerning my servant Spence, to show how well I succeeded in making my secesh acquaintances believe that I was a Southerner and a slave-owner. I was in the habit of finding fault with him, and would reprimand him severely for the slightest neglect, and sometimes imaginary ones, were sufficient to call forth from me the severest rebuke.
A few mornings after the night of our festival, several of my secesh friends called on me to ride out in the city. I ordered Spence to bring out my horse. When he made his appearance at the front of the house, I went out to see that every thing was in proper order, and at once flew into a terrible passion with him, on the pretense that the horse was not properly cleaned. Spence, as if mistrusting something was up, was about to leave.
"Here, you black rascal!" said I; "why didn't you clean that horse's legs? Ha'n't I taught you better than that? Come here, you black lazy calf, till I thrash you! What! lived with me all your life, and don't know how to clean a horse! Ha'n't I thrashed you time and again for that? Come here, I say! I'll fix you!"
Spence, as if apprehending a booting, manifested a wonderful fear of me, and no inclination to approach nearer, and, as I approached him, he involuntarily drew back. I attempted to catch him, and he ran away from me into the back yard, and I after him. "Stop! stop! you black d—l you! Stop! or I'll shoot you!" I shouted.
Mrs. W——s and my companions ran to the back door to see what I was doing. As they came out, I fired my revolver. Spence stopped, and, facing me, implored, "Oh, Lord! Massa Ruggles, don't shoot dis nigger! don't shoot again, for de Lord's sake! don't shoot! I'll done clean de hoss all off clean de nex' time! I will. I will, for shure, Massa Ruggles!"
"Don't shoot him, Major!" implored Mrs. W——s.
"Don't shoot him, Major! for God's sake, don't shoot him!" implored my friends.
"Well, I won't shoot him this time, but the next time he won't get off so easy. Do you understand that, you black rascal?"
"Yes. Massa Ruggles! I 'spects dat I was careless. I'll done clean him good now!" and away he went to clean the horse.
Many a laugh have Spence and I had, when by ourselves, over my pretense to shoot him.