“Take that! and that! and that!—you d— infernal
nigger.”

“Mercy! massa! for lub of God!”

“`I'll mercy you!—you black b—. There's some
mercy for you.” (Mrs. L. here burst into tears.)

The slave, Mary, rose in her agony and fright—
I saw then she would soon be a mother! And so did
Grim. But still there was no mercy! Becoming
furious, he ferociously kicked the supplicating woman—
and in her side! (Mrs. L. here, amid her sobs,
uttered something very much like an execration.)

Yes, dear Mary! I began to forget myself now!
The feelings of boyhood came upon me! I felt bad—
angry—maybe, revengeful! But now we all went
out to the field. Good God! how different all was
from ours! Oh! the cowering, shrinking creatures,
with terrified looks! A devil's look was in some!
Alas! alas! I fear I felt too much like a devil
myself!

Hecky went ahead of us. Four negroes were
approaching. All stopped. Hecky unwound his
serpent lash! The negroes stripped off their shirts,
and each as he came up—stopped—threw up his
arms above his head! I saw it! I heard the
accursed thong! My blood boiled—I was becoming
a tiger!—I lost my prudence! Ah! ha! and this
was Hecky's “receipt” — this showed his watchfulness
and care! I now hurried on, and with my

[figure description] Page 082.[end figure description]

own eyes I beheld those receipts—raw cuts into which
I might have put my finger—and scabs on healing
wounds—and scars that marked the burning stings
of the lash before!

Grim marked my changed manner: he saw the
workings of my soul—and he attempted to apologize—
to explain—to soften! But my burning words
could not now be stayed! Mary! I looked him full
in the face—I fear I clenched my fist—but I cried
out:

“Man! if I were a negro, and my brother cut
your throat, I would never lay, even for that, the lash
upon him!”

He started — amazed! He answered something
confusedly, I know not what; but I only earnestly
and solemnly re-said my words!”

Here Mrs. Leamington cried exultingly—“Noble
husband! Oh! how Uncle Wardloe would applaud
if he knew this! Oh! how Col. Hilson would clap
his hands! Why, Edward! did you not know that
Grim is a New England man—the very one they
here, by way of eminence, call—the Yankee?”

To which the parson had answered—“Is it possible!
Well! how true, that our people do make the worst
masters! However, what I said must have re-called
Mr. Grim to better feelings, for even that day he
offered voluntarily One Hundred Dollars to our
Church Enterprise!”

[figure description] Page 083.[end figure description]

But let us go on with the auction. Among many
others present, were two persons with the dress and
manners of gentlemen. They are evidently strong
and active men; they are fine-looking and courteous.
Who are they? Not planters of the parish. Who
then?

Two regular slave dealers.

Beyond doubt, the insides and outsides are often
corresponding. Still practical phrenology and physiognomy
differ slightly from the books. Bumps and
organs of charts are often fumbled after in vain, to
make science accord with fact. Beautiful sepulchres
hide ugly bones and rotten carcases; and a witching
song is heard often where a warning cry would
have done more good. A first chop phrenologist,
for a “consideration,” sends his neighbor an apprentice
or clerk according to the developments; but the
cautious philosopher, when he wants a store boy,
says, in his printed advertisement—“none need apply
unless they come well recommended!”

Upon the whole do not go by developments in
choosing slave dealers more than pick-pockets and
gamblers; for all may dress in fine black cloth and
look like the clergy. Down South ask—“who is
that fine-looking gentleman?” before you make his
acquaintance. However, Mr. Wardloe and the old
ones knew these; and, save for trade purposes, they
always gave them a wide berth. Most in our parish

[figure description] Page 084.[end figure description]

hated a slave-dealer as much as Roanoke Randolph
did. What Mr. Wardloe thought of such has been
seen; the law of libel prevents the author from
speaking his own sentiments.

Still, an honest man having no party to serve, nor
office in view, can see an immense moral difference
between the planter or farmer who lives among his
family of negroes and the regular slave-dealer. All
the domestic and household virtues may dwell where
the blacks serve, and the whites govern and direct;
where one contributes bodily labor to sustain the
community, and the other care, protection, supplies,
instruction. Rarely would a slave in the South be
silly enough to take his freedom till the death of his
friend exposed him to the claws of the dealer. The
writer has seen many—very many cases in the
North, and can readily imagine others, where the
black, nay, the white man, might count himself
happy and fortunate if he had an owner. Many
men would be happier, safer, more useful to themselves,
and positively more respectable and honorable
under tutelage the rest of their days.

He must be an idiot or a knave who superintends
an invisible rail-way to transport North every black,
that has an ambition to be master of a swill barrel,
or lord of a rag-pole for gutter-poking! Pshaw!
“will honor set a leg?” never; nor will a nominal
freedom. If we could obtain a fellow like our

[figure description] Page 085.[end figure description]

Frank by the under-ground road—the sin and meanness
of stealing him away, instead of buying him off,
would seem less! But to run off a poor simple fool
of a negro from comfortable quarters and a bellyful!
to shiver about in winter under a quaker hat
with no brim! and in two odd boots begged or
stolen from different legs, which torn and shabby
boots slap and wallop about the thin shanks of the
miserable booby! and the half-grinning creature,
while he wipes his nose on the sleeve of Rev. Dr.
Abolish Goodman's old shabby cast-off coat, wonders,
while he crams into his nasty wallet the slabbered
remnants of the pious Miss Chequerem's
kitchen—if this is liberty!

Many a crime, as the grand French lady said at
the guillotine, that guardian of French rights, many
a crime is committed in the name of Liberty; and it
may yet be found even an atrocious crime in itself
and a horrible ruin to many deluded negroes, both as
to soul and body, to run them under any and all
circumstances into the mere name of Liberty!

But the slave-dealer!—that speculator in human
limbs and sinews!—the wretch that looks at a man's
jaw as at a horse's!—that twists a man around as a
machine for digging and hoeing!—and strips off his
shirt to know if he works without Hecky's Receipts!
and would learn his amount of activity, and strength,
and religion, and conscience, as so much

[figure description] Page 086.[end figure description]

laborprompting and trust-begetting energy!—that soulless
creature—yes, that accursed one—that thing of
wrist-cuffs! and leg-bands! and voice-stiflers! to keep
the purchase from running back—not to freedom—
but the old home of his hoary grandfather!—to the
bosom of his mother!—to the love of his wife!—to
the sight of his cabin and his little ebony babes!—and
to hush the song, “Oh! take me back to ole Virginnee!”—
and stifle the cries of a broken heart!

I knew in the far west a man like the dealer. He
caught a young wolf. He tamed him at home; and
he gave him food and he gave him water; and he
nourished him as a pet! Then one day—I see it all
now!—he took that poor, tame, humanized wolf into
the dark forest behind my house, and there he set
the hounds upon him for a hunt! And the hunted
wolf!—what did he? He ran home to his old box!
He thought he would be safe with his owner—but
that man set the hounds on that beast, there—in his
home! I heard the wolf-pet moan—I saw him die!

Oh! ye noble, generous, planters of my native
south-land!—the dealer is no necessary evil. Ye
can if you will—and surely ye will!—make laws
that shall forbid your slaves from being sold away
from their homes! Let them ever remain in the
neighborhoods of their youthful days. This will
disappoint your enemies and the enemies of our

[figure description] Page 087.[end figure description]

Union, and it will strengthen the hands of your
friends and of freedom!

But it is two o'clock! See! the auctioneer is at
his post! Under the most favorable circumstances a
sale of human beings is not pleasant to the sensitive;
but here so little of the disagreeable exists, that we
cannot promise much of a scene, nor say,—“If you
have tears, prepare to shed them now!” The whole
matter of adjusting the exchanges had been satisfactorily
arranged between the black and white parties;
though, for form's sake and to obey the statutes,
bidding and knocking off took place:—but the whole
was a mere mock auction. To the negroes it was a
holiday. All were done up in their best: and receiving
presents from the administrators and also the
selected owners; and being not only allowed by the
custom, but excited by the whites, the scene instead
of a tragedy, became absolutely and irresistibly merry,
ludicrous and noisy.

The scene can neither be penned nor painted;
and fragments have no life. One might as well expect
to excite your risibles by cutting off the leg of
a black in the most alarming antic of the compounddouble-shuffle
corn-stalk dance, and holding it
forth! Still morbid appetite demands, now-a-days,
soda-water after the efflorescence has subsided; and
here is some:—

[figure description] Page 088.[end figure description]

“I 'clare if that a' niggah ain't gwine to run off
next dark night—Don't buy um, Massa Dibbles!”

“Why, Clara? How do you know?”

“Kase he says you only give four pound homminee
for brekfus, and he want six.”

“Why Clara, Bill slanders me, he forgets the ten
pounds of beef.”

“Oh! Massa Dibbles, never mine dat black
wench—she mad kase I wont tote her off to yankee
plantashun and marry um —”

“Bill! you blame ugly sinnah! Massa Dibbles
when you gwine for flog um, gim me two cow-skin.”

Chorus of darkees.—“Oh! shaw! possum up a
gum tree, nigger in the holler.”

“Massa Steel! look out, don't no time hit Pete on
his skull.”

“Why, Sam?”

“It strike fire!”

This allusion to Mr. Steel's name was thought so
witty that the planters echoed the laugh of the blacks;
but Mr. S. replied—

“Sam! you stupid rascal, you'd better beg me to
buy you —”

“Kase why, Massa Steel?”

[figure description] Page 089.[end figure description]

“Because I'll whet you up till you get sharp as a
corn-knife.”

Poor as was the pun, yet it set the negroes into a
tempest of outcries; while Pete, Bill, Sam, &c., did
the most ferocious double-shuffles; during which
Bill coming nearer Clara, hugged her along for a
dozen yards.

“Oh! ho! oh! I'm a gone darkee! Oh! Susannah!”

“Poor Nicky! What you cry for? Want your
mammy?”

“I'se sold to a very poor man! He got only two
hundred niggers!”

“Poor Nicky! I kum over Chrismus—I fetch
you sum sugah candy!”

When folks are determined to be merry, wit is
not necessary for subject of laughter; hence, both
colors having reached the giggle point, as at a
fashionable party, they all roared out at anything or
nothing. But some to-day were always serious, and
who, the reader knows—Mr. Leamington, and the
negro Frank and his mother.

[figure description] Page 090.[end figure description]

Sarah was, indeed, safe with Mr. Wardloe; but
that mother's breast, while thankful for herself, was
disquieted in a storm of warring hope and fear. As
the critical moment arrived when the auctioneer
would name her son as the last to be sold, Frank
standing by the sick woman, whispered, “Mother!
the hour is come, but let us hope in God!”

Opposite these, stood Mr. Leamington. The intense
workings of his soul played upon his countenance,
and convinced Frank that no monition from himself
or mortal man was needed to keep the parson to his
purpose! Frank never looked upon that embodied
grandeur and goodness, but he felt first awe and then
determination; now he could have knelt to him and
then died for him!

Beyond the auctioneer stood the two dealers.
They had bid for no negro yet; hence, as they appeared
in the parish only because some private intelligence
assured them of a great bargain, it was
plain enough that without some unforseen interference,
Frank was doomed! However individuals
might secretly believe and wish, all would respect the
secret tribunal that had condemned the suspected
negro to exile and slavery; the usage of the times.
None of the planters, who were secretly pledged,
would now dare openly to bid. All, however,
stood aloof from the dealers, and with ill-concealed
disgust; while the blacks, safe under the wing of

[figure description] Page 091.[end figure description]

their masters, eyed the fellows with scorn, and often
with anger. Had they not known it would not be
for a moment tolerated, they would have broken into
audible taunt and scoff. Two dealers travelled together
for safety; their united strength, agility and
courage, with the aid of weapons, made them a
match for twenty men.

On Mr. Wetheril's beckoning Frank to the place
assigned, the noise of the negroes was instantly
hushed, and all the company crowded into a narrow
space; though some, with feelings honorable to their
hearts, had to retire to conceal their tears. Frank,
after all, was trusted and loved! and many were
secretly wishing for a redeemer!

“What is bid for this—this—fine—negro?” asked
the auctioneer, very much as if he was selling his
brother, and felt ashamed.

“Nine hundred dollars!” answered the principal
dealer.”

“Nine hundred dollars is bid!—Nine hundred
dollars—is no more bid?—for the prime negro of the
whole parish!—no more!”

“I bid one thousand five hundred dollars”—was
now solemnly and firmly said from an unexpected
quarter, to the left. All eyes were turned thither;
when surprise was visible in most faces—anger in
none. Indeed, some female faces suddenly lightened

[figure description] Page 092.[end figure description]

up, as if a sunshine had chased away a cloud; and—
“Thank God!”—was a murmur distinctly heard!

Mr. L. by his bid meant to show a war to the
knife! and so the dealers understood the matter.
True; they had come for a bargain, and they never
cared to waste money; yet vexation, pride, revenge,
and a special vindictive feeling now against Mr. L.
and the negro, fixed, and immediately, their purpose.

“Two thousand dollars is bid! If that is not sufficient
we can go a little higher for a first rate article!”
On which both gentlemen dealers lay before
them two well-stuffed pocket books.

Frank started with alarm! His mother was looking
upward; she saw now, nothing on the earth, but
her moving lips showed to whom she was crying!

Edward Leamington cast an imploring look towards
where, a moment since, Mr. Wardloe stood.
Good Heavens—he was not there!

“Two thousand dollars is bid, two thousand dollars,
two thousand dollars, is no more bid? only two thousand
dollars, going at two thousand dollars—go-i-n-g—
at on-ly two thousand dollars!” drawled forth the
auctioneer, making every letter as long as a slow and
hard word—his voice trembling with fear, his eye
wandering as if in a despairing hope—“for the last
time, go-in-g at —”

“Never!—two thousand five hundred dollars is
my bid,—”

[figure description] Page 093.[end figure description]

“And three thousand dollars is mine!—fire away!
Prime article! I like its looks!” cried the dealer,
excited, and yet cool; for something in Mr. L.'s side
glance after Mr. Wardloe, had given the fellow a
belief that the parson was near the bottom of his
purse.

“Three thousand do-ll-ars is bid! Three thousand
do-l-l-a-r-s i-s b-i-d—on-ly three thousand dollars!!
Will no one bid any more?” said Mr. Auctioneer,
in a supplicating, remonstrative tone; and
yet no higher bid! “Go-i-n-g!—gen-tle-men!—I
ca-n-n-ot wait”—

“I beseech you, Mr. Wetheril, give me only five
minutes to think,” interrupted Mr. L., shaking like
an ague.

“Go on with the sale! Let's have fair play!”
angrily cried out the dealer.

“I add to my bid,” hurriedly called Mr. L., “all
my library—all my wife's —”

“I am very sorry to say, Mr. Leamington, the terms
of sale are cash only, or notes with approved security,”
replied the auctioneer.

“Go on,—then—will you?” reiterated the dealer.

A moment before Frank had stepped across to Mr.
L. and handed him a paper; then, to gain time, he
advanced towards the auctioneer, and falling on one
knee, he said in a voice that melted all but the
dealer, “Master Wetheril, for the love of mercy and

[figure description] Page 094.[end figure description]

humanity,—stay!—stay! oh! stay one single moment—”

“Knock the nigger down!” cried the dealer in a
fury—“and go on with the sale!”

“Going, at three thousand dollars, — once —
twice —”

“Four thousand dollars! four thousand dollars!
stop! stay! four thousand dollars!” came convulsively
from the parson.

“Unfair!” cried the dealer.

“Going at four thousand dollars,” hurried on Mr.
Wetheril, wonderfully improved of a sudden in
elocution, only he spoke too fast now—“going,
once—”

“Give us, if you can, fairly, a moment!” interrupted
the dealer.

The auctioneer held his hammer! The excitement
was intense! Then came from the auction
table “Twice!”—when the auctioneer said, “Gentlemen,
have you a higher bid? I pause one
minute!”

The two dealers talked together earnestly a few
seconds, but at last the principal said with a sneer,

“None!—too much religion here!”

“Three times—gone!”—then whack went the
hammer and

Frank was Redeemed.

[figure description] Page 095.[end figure description]

Reader! the outbursting cry of joy and thanksgiving
startled the wild fowl from their sea-cradles,
and they soared, screaming towards heaven; while
the frantic leaps and gestures of the shouting negroes
as they snatched the parson up in his chair, and bore
him around the yard, amidst planters' congratulations,
and the smiles and tears of planters' wives
and daughters, showed how the

Heart estimates goodness and love!

p562-107

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