"I don't; it bears the impress of falsehood on its very face."
"No," added another Kentucky true-blue, "Mr. Monkton was going to whip her, and she resisted him. That's the correct version of the story, I'll bet my life on it."
To all of this aspersion upon myself, I was bound to be a silent auditor, yet ever obeying their slightest order to hand them water, cologne, &c. Is not this slavery indeed?
When Mr. Summerville left the room, he hastily repaired to the bar, where he made the story known, and getting assistance, forthwith went to the cellar, Mr. Winston forming one of the party of investigation. His Southern prejudices were instantly aroused, and he was ready "to do or die" for the propogation of the "peculiar institution."
The result of their trip was to find Monkton very feeble from the loss of blood, and suffering from the cut made by the broken bottle, but with enough life left in him for the fabrication of a falsehood, which was of course believed, as he had a white face. He stated that he had proceeded to the administration of the whipping, directed by my master; that I resisted him; and finding it necessary to bind me, he was attempting to do so, when I swore that I would kill him, and that suiting the action to the word, I hurled the broken bottle at his temples.
When Mr. Summerville repeated this to Miss Jane, in my presence, stating that it was the testimony that Monkton was prepared to give in open court, for I was to be arrested, I could not refrain from uttering a cry of surprise, and saying:
"Mr. Monkton has misrepresented the case, as 'I can show.'"
"Yes, but you will not be allowed to give evidence," said Master William.
"Will Mr. Monkton's testimony be taken?" I inquired.
"Certainly, but a negro cannot bear witness against a white person."