made she discovered a wheaten cake a wheaten cake Lirry the sister had made for herself from the
scrapings of the great oaken bowl in which
the family batch had been kneaded. Enraged
at the 'thief' as she branded her she siezed a large iron shovel red hot from
cleaning the oven, & raised it over the terrified
girl -- Bet interposed her brawny arm &
took the blow -- It cut quite across the arm
to the bone -- "but," she would say afterwards
in telling concluding the story of the frightful scar she carried to her grave Madam never again laid
her hand on Lirry -- I had a bad arm
all winter but Madam had the worst of
it -- I never covered the wound, & when
people asked me said to me before Madam -- "Why Betty!
what ails your arm, I only answered
'ask Missess" ! -- Which was the slave, &
which the real mistress? --

She had another characteristic story of the days of her ser-
-vitude. And she retained so vivid an impression