they had killed the man, and that the dead body was lying on the deck.
The captain came on deck, and said to those who were remaining, "You
have killed this nigger; now take him off of my boat." The captain's
name was Hart. The dead body was dragged on shore and left there. I went
on board of the boat where our gang of slaves were, and during the whole
night my mind was occupied with what I had seen. Early in the morning, I
went on shore to see if the dead body remained there. I found it in the
same position that it was left the night before. I watched to see what
they would do with it. It was left there until between eight and nine
o'clock, when a cart, which takes up the trash out of the streets, came
along, and the body was thrown in, and in a few minutes more was covered
over with dirt which they were removing from the streets. During the
whole time, I did not see more than six or seven persons around it, who,
from their manner, evidently regarded it as no uncommon occurrence.

During our stay in the city, I met with a young white man with whom I
was well acquainted in St. Louis. He had been sold into slavery, under
the following circumstances. His father was a drunkard, and very poor,
with a family of five or six children. The father died, and left the
mother to take care of and provide for the children as best she might.
The eldest was a boy, named Burrill, about thirteen years of age, who
did chores in a store kept by Mr. Riley, to assist his mother in
procuring a living for the family. After working with him two years, Mr.
Riley took him to New Orleans to wait on him while in that city on a
visit, and when he returned to St. Louis, he told the mother of the boy
that he had died with the yellow fever. Nothing more was heard from him,
no one supposing him to be alive. I was much astonished when Burrill
told me his story. Though I sympathized with him, I could not assist
him. We were both slaves. He was poor, uneducated, and without friends;
and if living, is, I presume, still held as a slave.