Oh, no! sympathy, generosity, human
affections, have little to do with the transactions of slave
dealing; that belongs to commerce,--commerce has an unbending rule to
maintain while money is to be made by a legalised traffic.
We must invite the reader to accompany us to the county gaol, on the
morning of sale.
The "gang"-Marston's slaves-have been ordered to prepare themselves
for the market; the yard resounds with their jargon. Some are
arranging their little clothing, washing, "brightening up" their
faces to make the property show off in the market. Others are
preparing homony for breakfast; children, in ragged garments, are
toddling, running, playing, and sporting about the brick pavement;
the smallest are crouched at the feet of their mothers, as if
sharing the gloom or nonchalance of their feeling. Men are gathering
together the remnants of some cherished memento of the old
plantation; they had many a happy day upon it. Women view as things
of great worth the little trinkets with which good master, in former
days, rewarded their energy. They recall each happy association of
the cabin. Husbands, or such as should be husbands, look upon their
wives with solicitude; they feel it is to be the last day they will
meet together on earth. They may meet in heaven; there is no slavery
there. Mothers look upon their children only to feel the pangs of
sorrow more keenly; they know and feel that their offspring are born
for the market, not for the enjoyment of their affections.
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