His remarks may be considered out of place, but they
are none the less true, for it is ascertained, on private
examination, that sundry stripes have been laid about her bare
loins. Gurdoin Choicewest declared to his mother that he never for
once had laid violent hands on the obstinate wench; Mr. Blackmore
Blackett stood ready to lay his hand on the Bible, and lift his eyes
to heaven for proof of his innocence; but a record of the
infliction, indelible of blood, remained there to tell its sad
tale,--to shame, if shame had aught in slavery whereon to make itself
known. Notwithstanding this bold denial, it is found that Mr.
Blackmore Blackett did on two occasions strip her and secure her
hands and feet to the bed-post, where he put on "about six at a
time," remarkably "gently." He admired her symmetrical form, her
fine, white, soft, smooth skin-her voluptuous limbs, so beautifully
and delicately developed; and then there was so much gushing
sweetness, mingled with grief, in her face, as she cast her soft
glances upon him, and implored him to end her existence, or save her
such shame! Such, he says, laconically, completely disarmed him, and
he only switched her a few times.
"She's not worth a dot more than a thousand dollars. I couldn't give
it for her, because I couldn't make it out on her. The fact is,
she'll get a bad name by passing through so many hands-a deuced bad
name!" says Graspum, whose commercial language is politically cold.
"And then there's her broken wrist-doubtful! doubtful! doubtful!
what I can do with her.
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