1798 Newspaper Notice

While going through the hoarded family tid-bits in my home “office,” I discovered the following which appeared in a 1798  issue of the  Lynchburg paper, and subsequently got tossed after posting it here:

$50 Reward

To the person or persons who will teach me the convenient art of reconciling the spirit and practice of slavery, with that of the Gospel  of Christ, I would then give land for slaves, and with the profits of their labor, pay my doctors, tutors, merchants, etc.  They would stay at home and work for me while I would go in splendor to the house of worship and shout and praise God roundly. And should my successful preceptor be a minister of the Gospel I will give him a hundred dollars.

There were widespread differences of opinion on slavery. In 1830 the combined clergy of Richmond passed resolutions depreciating the unwarrantable and highly improper interference of the people of another state with the domestic relations of master and slave. They quoted the example of Christ and his apostles in not interfering with the question of slavery as one which should be followed by all ministers of he gospel. Sorry, it was separated from its sorce.

About Nan Mykel

I used to think I would be a child prodigy, but then I got old. Formerly I had fantasies of rubbing elbows with cultural and academic leaders but that did not come to pass because I did not become a cultural or academic leader or any other kind of leader, for that matter. I am not even an "Alpha Dog," a term learned from a friend who had to become "Alpha Dog" in order to influence her own pet. (When gazes lock, she never looks away.) For years I expected to become a published author, but in passing I could not avoid the fact that I had little to contribute to the world's bulging dumpsters. I'm embarrassed to report that I also considered my primary process artistic productions powerful, rather than mildly neurotic. Which is not to say that I disrespect myself, only that I am beginning to doubt my potential for making a mark on the world. If I focus on strict self discipline I may be able to keep my garbage removed on a weekly basis, to keep the kitty box changed, the clothes cleaned, the dog watered, fed and walked, but that just catches me up to the starting mark again. When writing I physically grapple with words, wrestling them from their indifference into attempted chunks of awareness. I sit heavily on my chair; I breathe in artificially cooled air; my ear drums note the tap tap of the keyboard and the steady uninterrupted sound of the air conditioner, What is that sound? The roar of the ocean from 30 yards away...Inside, my thoughts are are balls in an electronic game machine, bouncing hither and yon from lever to lever. I am a little grim and intent until I recall a dream related by a black man in the prison where I once worked. He said that when he was a small boy, back home, he dreamed he was standing on his front porch pissing, and that he suddenly found himself pissing stars...
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