The first was an old gentleman, and a determined advocate of the institution.  He said, “Your remarks are all bosh; the African race were born slaves, and have been so for centuries, and are fit for nothing else.”—­I replied, “I am quite aware of the effect of breeding; we have a race of dog in England which, from their progenitors of many successive generations having had their tails cut off in puppyhood, now breed their species without tails; nay, more—­what are all our sporting dogs, but evidence of the same fact?  A pointer puppy stands instinctively at game, and a young hound will run a fox; take the trouble, for many generations, to teach the hound to point and the pointer to run, and their two instincts will become entirely changed.  The fact, sir, is that the African having been bred a slave for so many generations is one great cause of his lower order of intellect; breed him free and educate him, and you will find the same result in him as in the dog.”—­He was about to reply when another of the deputation rose and reminded him they had agreed to make but one observation each, and to receive one answer.  I rejoiced at this arrangement, as it saved me trouble and gave me the last word.

A very touchy little slaveholder next addressed me, saying, “Pray, sir, why can’t you leave us alone, and mind your own business?”—­I replied, “As for leaving you alone, I am quite ready to do so when you have left the negro alone; but as for exclusively attending to my own business, that would be far too dull; besides, it is human nature to interfere with other people’s affairs, and I can’t go against nature.”—­He retired, biting his lip, and as the door closed, I thought I heard the words “Meddling ass!”—­but I wont be sure.

Next came a swaggering bully of a slave-driver, evidently bred in the North.  He said, “This, sir, is a free country; why mayn’t every master wallop his own nigger?”—­I thought it best to cut him short; so I said, “Because, if freedom is perfect, such a permission would involve its opposite—­viz., that every nigger may wallop his own master; and your antecedents, I guess, might make such a law peculiarly objectionable to you personally.”—­He retired, eyeing first me and then his cowhide in a very significant manner.

The next spokesman was a clerical slaveholder, with a very stiff and very white neckcloth, hair straight and long, and a sanctified, reproof-ful voice.  “Sir,” said he, “why endeavour to disturb an institution that Scripture sanctions, and which provides so large a field for the ministrations of kindness and sympathy—­two of the most tender Christian virtues?” A crocodile tear dropped like a full stop to finish his sentence.  Irascibility and astonishment were struggling within me, when I heard his speech; but memory brought St. Paul to my aid, who reminded me he had before written certain words to the Corinthian Church—­“Satan himself is transformed into an angel of light; therefore it is no great thing if his ministers also be transformed,”