“What would you consider a fair price for a woman thirty years old, with a young-one two years old?”
“Depends altogether on her physical condition, you know.—Has she any other children?”
“Yes; four.”
“——Well—I reckon about seven to eight hundred.”
“I bought one yesterday—gave six hundred and fifty.”
“Well, sir, if she’s tolerable likely, you did well.”
This morning I visited a farm, situated on the bank of James River, near Richmond.
The labour upon it was entirely performed by slaves. I did not inquire their number, but I judged there were from twenty to forty. Their “quarters” lined the approach-road to the mansion, and were well-made and comfortable log cabins, about thirty feet long by twenty wide, and eight feet wall, with a high loft and shingle roof. Each divided in the middle, and having a brick chimney outside the wall at either end, was intended to be occupied by two families. There were square windows, closed by wooden ports, having a single pane of glass in the centre. The house-servants were neatly dressed, but the field-hands wore very coarse and ragged garments.
During the three hours, or more, in which I was in company with the proprietor, I do not think ten consecutive minutes passed uninterrupted by some of the slaves requiring his personal direction or assistance. He was even obliged, three times, to leave the dinner-table.