e o'clock when I returned to the Rue Saint Louis. I did not
re-enter the hotel--I walked direct to the _Rotundo_.

My pen fails to paint the dark emotions of my soul, as I stepped under
the shadow of that spacious dome. I remember no fooling akin to what I
experienced at that moment.

I have stood under the vaulted roof of the grand cathedral, and felt the
solemnity of religious awe--I have passed through the gilded saloons of
a regal palace, that inspired me with pity and contempt--pity for the
slaves who had sweated for that gilding, and contempt for the sycophants
who surrounded me--I have inspected the sombre cells of a prison with
feelings of pain--but remembered no scene that had so painfully
impressed me as that which now presented itself before my eyes.

Not sacred was that spot. On the contrary, I stood upon _desecrated_
ground--desecrated by acts of the deepest infamy. This was the famed
_slave-market of New Orleans_--the place where human bodies--I might
almost say _human souls_--were bought and sold!

Many a forced and painful parting had these walls witnessed. Oft had
the husband been here severed from his wife--the mother from her child.
Oft had the bitter tear-bedewed that marble pavement--oft had that
vaulted dome echoed back the sigh--nay more--the cry of the anguished
heart!

I repeat it--my soul was filled with dark emotions as I entered within
the precincts of that spacious hall. And no wonder--with such thoughts
in my heart, and such a scene before my eyes, as I then looked upon.

You will expect a description of that scene. I must disappoint you. I
cannot give one. Had I been there as an ordinary spectator--a reporter
cool and unmoved by what was passing--I might have noted the details,
and set them before you. But the case was far otherwise. One thought
alone was in my mind--my eyes sought for one sole object--and that
prevented me from observing the varied features of the spectacle.

A few things I do remember. I remember that the Rotundo, as its name
imports, was a circular hall, of large extent, with a flagged floor, an
arched coiling, and white walls. These were without windows, for the
hall was lighted from above. On one side, near the wall, stood a desk
or rostrum upon an elevated dais, and by the side of this a large block
of cut stone of the form of a parallelopipedon. The use of these two
objects I divined.

A stone "kerb," or banquette, ran around one portion of th