rinking were now the order of the day.

The next morning, at ten o'clock, the boat arrived at new Orleans, where
the passengers went to their hotels and homes, and the negroes to the
slave-pens.

Lizzie, the white slave-mother, of whom we have already spoken, created
as much of a sensation by the fairness of her complexion and the
alabaster whiteness of her child, when being conveyed on shore at New
Orleans, as she had done when brought on board at Grand Gulf. Every one
that saw her felt that slavery in the Southern States was not confined
to the negro. Many had been taught to think that slavery was a benefit
rather than an injury, and those who were not opposed to the institution
before, now felt that if whites were to become its victims, it was time
at least that some security should be thrown around the Anglo-Saxon to
save him from this servile and degraded position.

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;
and another woman, whose looks and manners were expressive of deep
anguish, sat by her side. There was "Uncle Jeems," with his whiskers
off, his face shaven clean, and the gray hairs pluc