114 seer - CONVERSATION ON SLAVERY. that if a negro was detected in theft, he was lashed or branded in the hand, and the iron pressed in until he repeated God save the Commonwealth' three times and if one killed another, he was tried and hung, and the owner indemnified by the State. Hanging, said he, was too good for Nat Turner. He ought to have been cut to pieces. I asked him if he thought it probable that the negroes of Fredericksburg ever heard of the insurrection and its consequences. He said, No. This driver, whose fame as an upright and honorable man had extended the country round, at his inn or plantation resigned his honors to some one else, and I took a seat inside the coach. Here I had some talk with a young Virginian on the same subject. The following are some of his observations. Good slaves are worth six or seven hundred dollars. They are dog cheap at three or four hundred dollars. Those most highly valued are from sixteen to twenty-five years of age. A handsome negress will sell for two or three thousand dollars.Negroes in Philadelphia are astonishingly impudent. Johnny Randolph's slaves (he had three hundred) were exceedingly polite the finest of gentlemen. Negro-dealer, heretofore a term of reproach, is now becoming more respectable. Many young men make their fortunes in this kind of trade. The Virginians would get rid of slavery if they knew how. They see its evil effects. The coach rattled through the streets of Rich RICHMOND. mond at twelve o'clock at night 115 the passengers from Washington having been on the route since six in the morning. It was now more than three weeks since I left Boston and the whole expense of my journey was less than sixty dollars. My fatigue was so great the morning after my arrival that my slumber was not broken until after ten o'clock, and breakfast was served up at the very fashionable hour of eleven. Slaves had been in my room early in the morning. Slaves waited upon me at table. Slaves had cooked and prepared all and all scented and tasted of slavery. I could drink nothing could eat nothing. Slavery became to me the all absorbing idca. It was my meat and drink for days. It occasioned me much anxiety and distress of mind. Richmond is a city of twenty thousand inhabitants and half of them are slaves. They are with you in the house and by the way in the chamber-the dining room the market - the shop the street at all times. They - at morning and evening do every thing for you. They are ever at your elbow. They are like the frogs of Egypt: you cannot escape them. Richmond is a peculiar city. There is little to remind one of N. England. People think differentlyfeel differently—talk differently-pronounce differently-sing differently-look differently-dress differently live differently -- do differently. I mean no disparagement to the Virginians. Their ways may be as good as ours. Certain it is that in many 116 CHARACTER OF THE INHABITANTS. respects they excel us. The mule-teams in the street driven by noisy and cruel masters (slaves!!) have altogether a strange aspect. Indeed one could not feel himself farther from home if he had crossed the Atlantic and was truly in a foreign land. There are churches, and the Sabbath is observed; but they are not New England churches, and the Sabbath is not observed as in New England. The Thanksgivings and Fasts of New England are not there. The morality and sanctity of New England are not there. Slavery rests like a great curse upon them. It is the worst of all evils. Of this it is true that many of the Virginians are aware and deprecate the same.- -You sit at table. You are surprized thefamily is not poisonedby those who have the power in their hands. You are in the street. You think it strange that lusty mule-driver is driven by his brothers in the flesh. You walk along the banks of the canal. You can hardly believe that hard-fisted, brawny-muscled man, forcing along that boat-load of merchandize, is not free. After service on the Sabbath you pass the African Church. A multitude is pouring out and has already covered the pavement, a dense and mighty mass. You wonder that so many fine athletic frames are not animated by daring spirits, that they do not rise in vengeance and strike a desperate blow for their liberties. On a holiday (they have many in the course of a year) you see them standing by scores at the corners of the streets, and hear the loud laugh of own masters THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS. 117 jolity resound from far and near. You cannot persuade yourself that such happy beings are not their that they are the property of others, bought and sold like sheep in the shambles. You go to the capitol. An armed sentinel treads its floor. He is there night and day. When he is asleep, the city sleeps not safely. He is the watchman,but not of freedom. He is the eye of jealousy - the arm of power the keeper of the bondman. You go to the market place. You see the fruits of long years of degradation and oppression in the ragged, decrepit, broken, unmanned, half-embruted, and miserable objects that greet you on every side. Whether the number would be diminished if slavery were no more, many wise men question. You wind your way to the neighboring hill. You tread that hallowed spot of graves. You enter that simple rustic church where the eloquence of Patrick Henry was first enkindled and burned bright with the flame of freedom, and can hardly realize that the chains of slavery still clank around, and the air of freedom ist wafted only to the white man's breast. You may not be an abolitionist. It is unnecessary you should be in order to the rise of such thoughts and feelings. Richmond is situated on the northern bank of the James river. The land rises gradually to a considerable elevation from the river, and on what is called Shockoe hill, which is the highest point, lies much of the Town. The principal buildings on this site are the Court-House, the Powhatan House 118 MONUMENTAL CHURCH PROMENADE. (an extensive public boarding-house), the Capitol, and the Monumental Church erected on the spot where the theatre was burnt. Ninety individuals were consumed in the flames, and to the memory of their unhappy fate a monument stands in the vestibule of the Church. From the Capitol the view of the city reposing beneath your feet, of the James river, and the country in the vicinity is highly picturesque. Richmond is at the head of tide water, near the lower falls of the river, and one hundred and fifty miles from its outlet into the Chesapeake. The wide promenade along the banks of the James, embowered in trees, with the clear water of the canal enlivened by sounds of merchandize on one side, and the romantic falls of the James fifty or a hundred feet below you and extending for miles on the other, has no equal to my knowledge in the Northern States. Beyond the canal you look into the depth of a wild and boundless forest. Beyond the river your eye rests upon the houses of Manchester, a town of some magnitude, or ranges over the partially cultivated country. It was early in April when I was in Richmond. In Boston and the vicinity the East winds blew cold, and tore your lungs to tatters every body was wrapped up in flannel and woollen the fields were cheerless and the trees bare. On the contrary in R. the temperature was warm and the breezes bland flannel and woollen were thrown aside for the light gar - the fields were green and the |