In the midst of their task the inhuman wretches began to chaunt songs and incantations adapted to the horrid ceremony. I remember some snatches of the ballads they sung. Never shall I forget them, for the cruel mockery of their fiendish merriment was more galling than the pain I endured, or the awful reflection that I must pass the rest of my days the noseless object of pity and contempt. One of the stanzas ran thus: De man who hold he nose too high Mus' be brought low: Put him on de grinstone And grind him off slow. Wheel about, and turn about, And wheel about slow; And every time he wheel about De nose must go. I was at no loss to recognize in this a parody on a popular ballad by James Crow, Esquire, very skilfully arranged for the piano-forte by Mr. Zephaniah Coon; and I despised my tormentors the more for their plagiarism and want of originality. At the end of each _refrain_, the barbarians sent forth as a kind of supplementary chorus, shouts of laughter, which seemed to come from their very souls. It was none of your civilized _ha ha's_--nor your modish _he he's_--but the hearty, pectoral _yeoh yeoh yeoh_ of the unsophisticated "_nigger_." All this time my nose was gradually diminishing. The imp at the handle turned it slowly but steadily; the grasp upon my shoulders was firm, and the pressure upon my head was so heavy, that the inexorable stone was fast penetrating flesh, cartilage and bone, and reducing to a level the inequalities of my visage. This could not last forever; and at length I felt that the sacrifice had been consummated--the friction of the stone upon my cheeks, gave fearful evidence that what had been a nose, existed no longer, and brought the horrid reflection that I was noseless! That the pride of my countenance was gone, and forever! The awful consciousness of my bereavement made me desperate, and strung up my sinews to a gigantic effort for freedom and revenge.--Suddenly the grasp upon my body was loosened, and as suddenly the agents and the instrument of my torment vanished. I awoke, covered with perspiration and in a mortal tremor. The cabin was dark, and but for the snoring of my neighbors, I should not have known where I was. My nose was still suffering a most uncomfortable sensation, and I breathed with difficulty from some unknown obstruction. Although instantly aware that, to use the language of Molly Brown, I had merely "dreampt a dream," I instinctively lifted my hand to my face to reassure myself that my nose remained in undiminished amplitude and longitude. In searching for that interesting feature, I found that it was eclipsed and borne down by some weighty substance, which the sense of feeling soon informed me was the ponderous fist of my Kentucky neighbor, who had in shifting his position during his slumbers, unceremoniously thrust it into my face. I was cramped for room, and tugged to rid myself of the incumbrance, when its owner awoke.