Origin and annals of "The Old south," First Presbyterian church and parish, in Newburyport, Mass., 1746-1896

Ears ringing, the girl slumped to the softness of the bed. When he grabbed her by the leg and dumped her onto the floor, she was sobbing out loud. "On your hands and knees, slave," he repeated as if nothing had happened. "And if you don't," he added, "I have a fine collection of whips." She turned frightened eyes up to the man. Then she looked past him to a rack on the far wall. Hung there were long whips and short. A riding crop with a nasty looking snapper on the end was even an ugly red hue that she thought must be dried blood. But it was the long blacksnake whip which seemed to fill up her universe. Vicki was filled with dread. That whip was designed for one thing and one thing only, tearing the flesh ff human backs. She could imagine a slave master in the old South wielding that monstrous whip, beating his slaves, laughing cruelly as he did so. She hastily got to her hands and knees. The chain around her neck tugged a bit and she had to crawl around so that she wasn't choking herself. That dog collar was going to be a problem ...»