"Pardon me, Sir! but you cannot mean what you say," nervously spoke
the man, as in doubt he exchanged glances first with the fair woman
and then with Blowers. "I means just what I says," returned that
gentleman, peremptorily; "you'ze hearn o' that 'un afore. She's a
nigger o' mine, what runned away more nor six years ago; come, do
the job for her, and no fussing over't." "Nigger!" interrupted the
man, in surprise. "Yes!" rejoined Blowers, emphasising his assurance
with oaths, of which he had a never-failing supply, "that's the
cussed white nigger what's gin me all the bother. The whiter niggers
is, the more devil's in em; and that ar' one's got devil enough for
a whole plantation; 'tisn't the licks I cares about, but it's the
humblin' on her feelings by being punished in the workhouse!" The
man of duty was now brought to his senses, when, seeing Blowers was
inclined to relieve his anger on what he was pleased to consider the
stupidity of a keeper, he took the weeping but resolute woman by the
arm, and called a negro attendant, into whose charge he handed her,
with an order to "put her in the slings." Soon she disappeared
within the gate, following the mulatto man. And here we will again
spare the reader's feelings, by omitting much that followed. Blowers
and Broadman follow the hapless woman, as she proceeds through a
narrow passage leading to the punishment room, and when about half
way to that place of torture, a small, square door opens on the
right, into a dingy office, the keeper says is where he keeps his
accounts with the State, which derives a large revenue from the
punishments.
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