, and all the light
came from the dome. Some 100 gentlemen were sauntering about, and now
and then turning to several groupes of black people to ask them
questions. This place was evidently fitted up for auctioneering
purposes, and seemed peculiarly adapted for man-selling. At equal
distances were a dozen elevated desks for the chief actors, each with a
small platform in front for the exhibition of the articles of sale.

It was a quarter to twelve, by the clock that faced the entrance door,
when I got in. Anxious to know what kind of questions were put to the
slaves, I pushed myself into the knots of intending purchasers, just as
if I had been one of them. The inquiries, I found, related to place of
birth, subsequent removals, competency for work, and so forth. The
answers presented a fearful view of the extent to which the internal
slave-trade is carried on. Most of the slaves said they had been
"raised" in Virginia and Kentucky. To avoid the suspicion of being a
spy, I resolved to put a few questions too. I found myself at the
establishment where those named in the advertisement which had drawn me
thither were to be disposed of. A pile of handbills--each containing an
exact copy of the advertisement, and a French translation--was lying on
the platform. Taking one up, I observed the name of "Squires, a
carpenter." Assuming all the confidence I could muster, I said, "Which
is Squires?" "I'm here, sir." "You are a carpenter, are you not?" "Yes,
sir," (with a very polite bow). "And what can you do?" "I can trim a
house, sir, from top to bottom." "Can you make a panelled door?" "Yes,
Sir." "Sash windows?" "Yes, sir." "A staircase?" "Yes, sir." I gave a
wise and dignified nod, and passed on to another groupe. In my
progress, I found by one of the platforms a middle-aged black woman,
and a mulatto girl of perhaps eighteen crouching by her side. "Are you
related to each other?" I said. "No, sir." "Have you lived long in the
city?" I said to the younger. "About two years, sir; but I was 'raised'
in South Carolina." "And why does your owner sell you?" "Because I
cannot cut--she wants a cutter--I can only sew." I then returned to the
groupe at platform No. 1.

The clock was striking twelve; and, before it had finished, the vast
dome reverberated with the noise of half-a-dozen man-sellers bawling at
once, disposing of God's images to the highest bidders. It was a
terrible din. But, at our platform, business proceeded rather
lei