One thing is certain, that when he was in health, it was enough to chill the blood, and to stiffen the hair of an ordinary man, to hear Mr.Sevier talk.

Nature, or his cruel habits, had given to his face an expression of unusual savageness, even for a slave-driver.
Tobacco and rage had worn his teeth short, and nearly every sentence that escaped their compressed grating, was commenced or concluded with some outburst of profanity.

His presence made the field alike the field of blood, and of blasphemy.

Hated for his cruelty, despised for his cowardice, his death was deplored by no one outside his own house--if indeed it was deplored there; it was regarded by the slaves as a merciful interposition of Providence.

Never went there a man to the grave loaded with heavier curses.