My heart throbbed with grief and terror so violently, that I pressed my hands quite tightly across my breast, but I could not keep it still, and it continued to leap as though it would burst out of my body.  But who cared for that?  Did one of the many by-standers, who were looking at us so carelessly, think of the pain that wrung the hearts of the negro woman and her young ones?  No, no!  They were not all bad, I dare say; but slavery hardens white people’s hearts towards the blacks; and many of them were not slow to make their remarks upon us aloud, without regard to our grief—­though their light words fell like cayenne on the fresh wounds of our hearts.  Oh those white people have small hearts who can only feel for themselves.

At length the vendue master, who was to offer us for sale like sheep or cattle, arrived, and asked my mother which was the eldest.  She said nothing, but pointed to me.  He took me by the hand, and led me out into the middle of the street, and, turning me slowly round, exposed me to the view of those who attended the vendue.  I was soon surrounded by strange men, who examined and handled me in the same manner that a butcher would a calf or a lamb he was about to purchase, and who talked about my shape and size in like words—­as if I could no more understand their meaning than the dumb beasts.  I was then put up to sale.  The bidding commenced at a few pounds, and gradually rose to fifty-seven,[1] when I was knocked down to the highest bidder; and the people who stood by said that I had fetched a great sum for so young a slave.

[Footnote 1:  Bermuda currency; about L38 sterling.]

I then saw my sisters led forth, and sold to different owners; so that we had not the sad satisfaction of being partners in bondage.  When the sale was over, my mother hugged and kissed us, and mourned over us, begging of us to keep up a good heart, and do our duty to our new masters.  It was a sad parting; one went one way, one another, and our poor mammy went home with nothing.[2]

[Footnote 2:  Let the reader compare the above affecting account, taken down from the mouth of this negro woman, with the following description of a vendue of slaves at the Cape of Good Hope, published by me in 1826, from the letter of a friend,—­and mark their similarity in several characteristic circumstances.  The resemblance is easily accounted for:  slavery wherever it prevails produces similar effects.—­“Having heard that there was to be a sale of cattle, farm stock, &c. by auction, at a Veld-Cornet’s in the vicinity, we halted our waggon one day for the purpose of procuring a fresh spann of oxen.  Among the stock of the farm sold, was a female slave and her three children.  The two eldest children were girls, the one about thirteen years of age, and the other about eleven; the youngest was a boy.  The whole family were exhibited together, but they were sold separately, and to different purchasers.  The farmers examined them as if they had been so many