purchasers, and I have often set them to dancing when their cheeks were
wet with tears. As slaves were in good demand at that time, they were
all soon disposed of, and we again set out for St. Louis.

On our arrival, Mr. Walker purchased a farm five or six miles from the
city. He had no family, but made a housekeeper of one of his female
slaves. Poor Cynthia! I knew her well. She was a quadroon, and one of
the most beautiful women I ever saw. She was a native of St. Louis, and
bore an irreproachable character for virtue and propriety of conduct.
Mr. Walker bought her for the New Orleans market, and took her down with
him on one of the trips that I made with him. Never shall I forget the
circumstances of that voyage! On the first night that we were on board
the steamboat, he directed me to put her into a state-room he had
provided for her, apart from the other slaves. I had seen too much of
the workings of slavery, not to know what this meant. I accordingly
watched him into the state-room, and listened to hear what passed
between them. I heard him make his base offers, and her reject them. He
told her that if she would accept his vile proposals, he would take her
back with him to St. Louis, and establish her as his housekeeper at his
farm. But if she persisted in rejecting them, he would sell her as a
field hand on the worst plantation on the river. Neither threats nor
bribes prevailed, however, and he retired, disappointed of his prey.

The next morning, poor Cynthia told me what had past, and bewailed her
sad fate with floods of tears. I comforted and encouraged her all I
could; but I foresaw but too well what the result must be. Without
entering into any farther particulars, suffice it to say that Walker
performed his part of the contract, at that time. He took her back to
St. Louis, established her as his mistress and housekeeper at his farm,
and before I left, he had two children by her. But, mark the end! Since