Does the freed slave always shiver at the crack of a whip?
I fancy not, for I recall but dimly, and without acute suffering, the horrors of my smoking days.

There were nights when I awoke with a pain at my heart that made me hold my breath.

I did not dare move.

After perhaps ten minutes of dread, I would shift my position an inch at a time.

Less frequently I felt this sting in the daytime, and believed I was dying while my friends were talking to me.