Pompey often spoke of the appearance of “my fren’,” as he called the colored brother, and would enjoy a hearty laugh, saying, “He was a free man, an’ could afford to go to bed, an’ lay dar till he got well.”
Strangers to the institution of slavery, and its effects upon its victims, would frequently speak with astonishment of the pride that slaves would show in regard to their own value in the market. This was especially so, at auction sales where town or city servants were sold.
“What did your marser pay for you?” would often be asked by one slave of another.
“Eight hundred dollars.”
“Eight hundred dollars! Ha, ha! Well, ef I didn’t sell for mo’ dan eight hundred dollars, I’d neber show my head agin ’mong ’spectable people.”
“You got so much to say ’bout me sellin’ cheap, now I want to know how much your boss paid fer you?”
“My boss paid fifteen hundred dollars cash, for me; an’ it was a rainy day, an’ not many out to de auction, or he’d had to pay a heap mo’, let me tell you. I’m none of your cheap niggers, I ain’t.”
“Hy, uncle! Did dey sell you, ’isterday? I see you down dar to de market.”
“Yes, dey sole me.”
“How much did you fetch?”