The slave-trader, Jennings, on his arrival at New Orleans, took up his quarters here with his gang of human cattle, and the morning after, at 10 o'clock, they were exhibited for sale. First of all came the beautiful Marion, whose pale countenance and dejected look told how many sad hours she had passed since parting with her mother at Natchez. There, too, was a poor woman who had been separated from her husband; and another woman, whose looks and manners were expressive of deep anguish, sat by her side. There was “Uncle Jeems,” with his whiskers off, his face shaven clean, and the gray hairs plucked out, ready to be sold for ten years younger than he was. Toby was also there, with his face shaven and greased, ready for inspection.
The examination commenced, and was carried on in such a manner as to shock the feelings of any one not entirely devoid of the milk of human kindness.
“What are you wiping your eyes for?” inquired a far, red-faced man, with a white hat set on one side of his head and a cigar in his mouth, of a woman who sat on one of the benches.
“Because I left my man behind.”
“Oh, if I buy you, I will furnish you with a better man than you left. I've got lots of young bucks on my farm.”
“I don't want and never will have another man,” replied the woman.
“What's you name?” asked a man in a straw hat of a tall negro who stood with his arms folded across his breast, leaning against the wall.
“My name is Aaron, sar.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-five.”