"We'll see about that, my wench," said he. "I may as well take you
down a peg, first as last. If you'd rather be in the calaboose with
niggers than to ride in a carriage with me, you may try it, and see
how you like it. I reckon you'll be glad to come to my terms, before
long."

He beckoned to two police-officers, and said, "Take this wench into
custody, and keep her on bread and water, till I give further orders."

The jail to which Loo Loo was conveyed was a wretched place. The
walls were dingy, the floor covered with puddles of tobacco-juice,
the air almost suffocating with the smell of pent-up tobacco-smoke,
unwashed negroes, and dirty garments. She had never seen any place so
loathsome. Mr. Jackson's log-house was a palace in comparison. The
prison was crowded with colored people of all complexions, and
almost every form of human vice and misery was huddled together
there with the poor victims of misfortune. Thieves, murderers, and
shameless girls, decked out with tawdry bits of finery, were mixed
up with modest-looking, heart-broken wives, and mothers mourning for
the children that had been torn from their arms in the recent sale.
Some were laughing, and singing lewd songs. Others sat still, with
tears trickling down their sable cheeks. Here and there the fierce
expression of some intelligent young man indicated a volcano of
revenge seething within his soul. Some were stretched out drowsily
upon the filthy floor, their natures apparently stupefied to the
level of brutes. When Loo Loo was brought in, most of them were
roused to look at her; and she heard them saying to each other,
"By gum, dat ar an't no nigger!" "What fur dey fotch _her_ here?"
"She be white lady ob quality, _she_ be."