Some are searching among the negroes sent to the
warehouse; others are inquiring where this property, advertised in
the morning journals, and so strongly commented upon, may be found.
They have been incited to examine, in consequence of the many
attractions set forth in the conditions of sale.
There the two children sit, on a little seat near the vender's
tribune. Old Aunt Dina, at the prison, has dressed Annette so
neatly! Her white pinafore shines so brightly, is so neatly
arranged, and her silky auburn locks curl so prettily, in tiny
ringlets, over her shoulders; and then her round fair face looks so
sweetly, glows with such innocent curiosity, as her soft blue eyes,
deep with sparkling vivacity, wander over the strange scene. She
instinctively feels that she is the special object of some important
event. Laying her little hand gently upon the arm of an old slave
that sits by her side, she casts shy glances at those admirers who
stand round her and view her as a marketable article only.
"Auntie, where are they going to take me?" the child inquires, with
a solicitous look, as she straightens the folds of her dress with
her little hands.
"Gwine t' sell 'um," mumbles the old slave. "Lor', child, a'h wishes
ye wa'h mine; reckon da'h wouldn't sell ye. T'ant much to sell
nigger like I, nohow; but e' hurt my feelins just so 'twarnt right
t' sell de likes o' ye." The old slave, in return, lays her hand
upon Annette's head, and smooths her hair, as if solicitous of her
fate.
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