CHAPTER VI.

THE SLAVE-MARKET.

NOT far from Canal Street, in the city of New Orleans,
stands a large two-story, flat building, surrounded by a stone
wall some twelve feet high, the top of which is covered with bits
of glass, and so constructed as to prevent even the possibility
of any one's passing over it without sustaining great injury.
Many of the rooms in this building resemble the cells of a prison,
and in a small apartment near the "office" are to be seen
any number of iron collars, hobbles, handcuffs, thumbscrews,
cowhides, chains, gags, and yokes.

A back-yard, enclosed by a high wall, looks something like
the playground attached to one of our large New England schools,
in which are rows of benches and swings. Attached to the back premises
is a good-sized kitchen, where, at the time of which we write,
two old negresses were at work, stewing, boiling, and baking,
and occasionally wiping the perspiration from their furrowed
and swarthy brows.

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;