After the Major had flogged me to his satisfaction, he sent out his son Robert, a young man eighteen or twenty years of age, to see that I was well smoked.

He made a fire of tobacco stems, which soon set me to coughing and sneezing.

This, Robert told me, was the way his father used to do to his slaves in Virginia.

After giving me what they conceived to be a decent smoking, I was untied and again set to work.
Robert Freeland was a "chip of the old block." Though quite young, it was not unfrequently that he came home in a state of intoxication.

He is now, I believe, a popular commander of a steamboat on the Mississippi river.