Portraits of Neighboring Slaveholders

There was a planter in the country, not far from us, whom I will call Mr. Litch. He was an ill-bred, uneducated man, but very wealthy. He had six hundred slaves, many of whom he did not know by sight. His extensive plantation was managed by well-paid overseers. There was a jail and a whipping post on his grounds; and whatever cruelties were perpetrated there, they passed without comment. He was so effectually screened by his great wealth that he was called to no account for his crimes, not even for murder.

A planter lived in the country, not far from us. I will call him Mr. Litch. He was a crude, uneducated man, but he was very wealthy. He enslaved six hundred people, many of whom he would not have recognized by sight. Well-paid overseers managed his vast plantation. There was a jail and a whipping post on his grounds. Whatever cruelties were committed there passed without comment. His great wealth protected him so completely that he was never held accountable for his crimes, not even murder.

Various were the punishments resorted to. A favorite one was to tie a rope round a man’s body, and suspend him from the ground. A fire was kindled over him, from which was suspended a piece of fat pork. As this cooked, the scalding drops of fat continually fell on the bare flesh. On his own plantation, he required very strict obedience to the eighth commandment. But depredations on the neighbors were allowable, provided the culprit managed to evade detection or suspicion. If a neighbor brought a charge of theft against any of his slaves, he was browbeaten by the master, who assured him that his slaves had enough of every thing at home, and had no inducement to steal. No sooner was the neighbor’s back turned, than the accused was sought out, and whipped for his lack of discretion. If a slave stole from him even a pound of meat or a peck of corn, if detection followed, he was put in chains and imprisoned, and so kept till his form was attenuated by hunger and suffering.

He used various punishments. A favorite was to tie a rope around a man’s body and suspend him above the ground. A fire was lit above him, with a piece of fat pork hanging over it. As the pork cooked, scalding drops of fat fell continually on his bare skin. On his own plantation, he demanded strict obedience to the eighth commandment. But stealing from neighbors was allowed, as long as the thief avoided detection or suspicion. If a neighbor accused one of his slaves of theft, the master bullied the neighbor. He assured him that his slaves had enough of everything at home and had no reason to steal. As soon as the neighbor left, the master found the accused slave and whipped him for being careless. But if a slave was caught stealing even a pound of meat or a peck of corn from him, the master had him chained and imprisoned. He kept him there until hunger and suffering had wasted his body.

A freshet once bore his wine cellar and meat house miles away from the plantation. Some slaves followed, and secured bits of meat and bottles of wine. Two were detected; a ham and some liquor being found in their huts. They were summoned by their master. No words were used, but a club felled them to the ground. A rough box was their coffin, and their interment was a dog’s burial. Nothing was said.

Once, a flood carried his wine cellar and meat house miles away from the plantation. Some enslaved people followed and gathered pieces of meat and bottles of wine. Two were caught when a ham and some liquor were found in their huts. Their master summoned them. Without saying a word, he struck them to the ground with a club. A rough box served as their coffin, and they were buried like dogs. Nothing was said.

Murder was so common on his plantation that he feared to be alone after nightfall. He might have believed in ghosts.

Murder was so common on his plantation that he was afraid to be alone after dark. He might have believed in ghosts.

His brother, if not equal in wealth, was at least equal in cruelty. His bloodhounds were well trained. Their pen was spacious, and a terror to the slaves. They were let loose on a runaway, and, if they tracked him, they literally tore the flesh from his bones. When this slaveholder died, his shrieks and groans were so frightful that they appalled his own friends. His last words were, “I am going to hell; bury my money with me.”

His brother may not have been as wealthy, but he was just as cruel. His bloodhounds were well trained. Their pen was large, and it terrified the enslaved people. The dogs were let loose on anyone who ran away. If they tracked him down, they literally tore the flesh from his bones. When this slaveholder died, his screams and groans were so terrifying that they shocked even his own friends. His last words were, “I am going to hell. Bury my money with me.”

After death his eyes remained open. To press the lids down, silver dollars were laid on them. These were buried with him. From this circumstance, a rumor went abroad that his coffin was filled with money. Three times his grave was opened, and his coffin taken out. The last time, his body was found on the ground, and a flock of buzzards were pecking at it. He was again interred, and a sentinel set over his grave. The perpetrators were never discovered.

After he died, his eyes stayed open. Silver dollars were placed on his eyelids to keep them closed. The coins were buried with him. Because of this, a rumor spread that his coffin was filled with money. His grave was opened three times, and his coffin was taken out each time. The last time, his body was found on the ground, with a flock of buzzards pecking at it. He was buried again, and a guard was posted at his grave. Those responsible were never discovered.

Cruelty is contagious in uncivilized communities. Mr. Conant, a neighbor of Mr. Litch, returned from town one evening in a partial state of intoxication. His body servant gave him some offence. He was divested of his clothes, except his shirt, whipped, and tied to a large tree in front of the house. It was a stormy night in winter. The wind blew bitterly cold, and the boughs of the old tree crackled under falling sleet. A member of the family, fearing he would freeze to death, begged that he might be taken down; but the master would not relent. He remained there three hours; and, when he was cut down, he was more dead than alive. Another slave, who stole a pig from this master, to appease his hunger, was terribly flogged. In desperation, he tried to run away. But at the end of two miles, he was so faint with loss of blood, he thought he was dying. He had a wife, and he longed to see her once more. Too sick to walk, he crept back that long distance on his hands and knees. When he reached his master’s, it was night. He had not strength to rise and open the gate. He moaned, and tried to call for help. I had a friend living in the same family. At last his cry reached her. She went out and found the prostrate man at the gate. She ran back to the house for assistance, and two men returned with her. They carried him in, and laid him on the floor. The back of his shirt was one clot of blood. By means of lard, my friend loosened it from the raw flesh. She bandaged him, gave him cool drink, and left him to rest. The master said he deserved a hundred more lashes. When his own labor was stolen from him, he had stolen food to appease his hunger. This was his crime.

Cruelty spreads in uncivilized communities. Mr. Conant, a neighbor of Mr. Litch, returned from town one evening somewhat drunk. His personal servant had offended him in some way. The servant was stripped of everything but his shirt, whipped, and tied to a large tree in front of the house. It was a stormy winter night. The wind was bitterly cold, and the old tree’s branches crackled under the falling sleet. A member of the family feared the servant would freeze to death and begged for him to be taken down. But the master would not give in. The servant remained there for three hours. When he was cut down, he was more dead than alive. Another slave stole a pig from this master to satisfy his hunger and was terribly flogged. In desperation, he tried to run away. But after two miles, he was so weak from blood loss that he thought he was dying. He had a wife, and he longed to see her once more. Too sick to walk, he crawled back that long distance on his hands and knees. It was night when he reached his master’s house. He did not have the strength to stand and open the gate. He moaned and tried to call for help. I had a friend living in the same household. At last she heard his cry. She went outside and found him lying at the gate. She ran back to the house for help, and two men returned with her. They carried him inside and laid him on the floor. The back of his shirt was one clot of blood. My friend used lard to loosen it from his raw flesh. She bandaged him, gave him a cool drink, and left him to rest. The master said he deserved a hundred more lashes. His own labor had been stolen from him, yet he had stolen food to satisfy his hunger. This was his crime.

Another neighbor was a Mrs. Wade. At no hour of the day was there cessation of the lash on her premises. Her labors began with the dawn, and did not cease till long after nightfall. The barn was her particular place of torture. There she lashed the slaves with the might of a man. An old slave of hers once said to me, “It is hell in missis’s house. ’Pears I can never get out. Day and night I prays to die.”

Another neighbor was Mrs. Wade. The whipping on her property never stopped during the day. Her work began at dawn and did not end until long after nightfall. The barn was her favorite place for torture. There she whipped enslaved people with the strength of a man. An elderly person she enslaved once told me, “It is hell in missis’s house. It seems I can never get out. Day and night, I pray to die.”

The mistress died before the old woman, and, when dying, entreated her husband not to permit any one of her slaves to look on her after death. A slave who had nursed her children, and had still a child in her care, watched her chance, and stole with it in her arms to the room where lay her dead mistress. She gazed a while on her, then raised her hand and dealt two blows on her face, saying, as she did so, “The devil is got you now!” She forgot that the child was looking on. She had just begun to talk; and she said to her father, “I did see ma, and mammy did strike ma, so,” striking her own face with her little hand. The master was startled. He could not imagine how the nurse could obtain access to the room where the corpse lay; for he kept the door locked. He questioned her. She confessed that what the child had said was true, and told how she had procured the key. She was sold to Georgia.

The mistress died before the old woman. As she was dying, she begged her husband not to let any of her slaves see her body after death. An enslaved woman who had nursed her children still had one of them in her care. She waited for a chance, then slipped into the room where her dead mistress lay, carrying the child in her arms. She gazed at her mistress for a while, then raised her hand and struck her face twice. As she did, she said, “The devil has got you now!” She forgot that the child was watching. The child had just begun to talk. She said to her father, “I saw ma, and mammy hit ma like this,” striking her own face with her little hand. The master was startled. He could not imagine how the nurse had gotten into the room where the body lay, because he kept the door locked. He questioned her. She admitted that the child had told the truth and explained how she had gotten the key. She was sold to Georgia.

In my childhood I knew a valuable slave, named Charity, and loved her, as all children did. Her young mistress married, and took her to Louisiana. Her little boy, James, was sold to a good sort of master. He became involved in debt, and James was sold again to a wealthy slaveholder, noted for his cruelty. With this man he grew up to manhood, receiving the treatment of a dog. After a severe whipping, to save himself from further infliction of the lash, with which he was threatened, he took to the woods. He was in a most miserable condition—cut by the cowskin, half naked, half starved, and without the means of procuring a crust of bread.

When I was a child, I knew an enslaved woman named Charity, who was considered valuable. I loved her, as all children did. Her young mistress married and took Charity to Louisiana. Charity’s little boy, James, was sold to a fairly good master. His master fell into debt, and James was sold again to a wealthy slaveholder known for his cruelty. James grew up under this man, who treated him like a dog. After a severe whipping, James fled to the woods to escape another whipping he had been threatened with. He was in a miserable condition. His skin was cut from the cowhide whip, and he was half naked and half starved. He had no way to get even a crust of bread.

Some weeks after his escape, he was captured, tied, and carried back to his master’s plantation. This man considered punishment in his jail, on bread and water, after receiving hundreds of lashes, too mild for the poor slave’s offence. Therefore he decided, after the overseer should have whipped him to his satisfaction, to have him placed between the screws of the cotton gin, to stay as long as he had been in the woods. This wretched creature was cut with the whip from his head to his feet, then washed with strong brine, to prevent the flesh from mortifying, and make it heal sooner than it otherwise would. He was then put into the cotton gin, which was screwed down, only allowing him room to turn on his side when he could not lie on his back. Every morning a slave was sent with a piece of bread and bowl of water, which were placed within reach of the poor fellow. The slave was charged, under penalty of severe punishment, not to speak to him.

Some weeks after his escape, he was captured, tied up, and taken back to his master’s plantation. His master considered it too mild a punishment for the poor slave’s offense to give him hundreds of lashes, then jail him on bread and water. So he decided to have the overseer whip him until he was satisfied. Then he would have the man placed between the screws of the cotton gin. He would stay there as long as he had been in the woods. The wretched man was whipped from head to foot. His wounds were then washed with strong salt water to keep the flesh from dying and make it heal sooner. He was put into the cotton gin, which was screwed down. He had only enough room to turn onto his side when he could no longer lie on his back. Every morning, a slave was sent with a piece of bread and a bowl of water. These were placed within reach of the poor man. The slave was ordered not to speak to him, on pain of severe punishment.

Four days passed, and the slave continued to carry the bread and water. On the second morning, he found the bread gone, but the water untouched. When he had been in the press four days and five nights, the slave informed his master that the water had not been used for four mornings, and that a horrible stench came from the gin house. The overseer was sent to examine into it. When the press was unscrewed, the dead body was found partly eaten by rats and vermin. Perhaps the rats that devoured his bread had gnawed him before life was extinct. Poor Charity! Grandmother and I often asked each other how her affectionate heart would bear the news, if she should ever hear of the murder of her son. We had known her husband, and knew that James was like him in manliness and intelligence. These were the qualities that made it so hard for him to be a plantation slave. They put him into a rough box, and buried him with less feeling than would have been manifested for an old house dog. Nobody asked any questions. He was a slave; and the feeling was that the master had a right to do what he pleased with his own property. And what did he care for the value of a slave? He had hundreds of them. When they had finished their daily toil, they must hurry to eat their little morsels, and be ready to extinguish their pine knots before nine o’clock, when the overseer went his patrol rounds. He entered every cabin, to see that men and their wives had gone to bed together, lest the men, from over-fatigue, should fall asleep in the chimney corner, and remain there till the morning horn called them to their daily task. Women are considered of no value, unless they continually increase their owner’s stock. They are put on a par with animals. This same master shot a woman through the head, who had run away and been brought back to him. No one called him to account for it. If a slave resisted being whipped, the bloodhounds were unpacked, and set upon him, to tear his flesh from his bones. The master who did these things was highly educated, and styled a perfect gentleman. He also boasted the name and standing of a Christian, though Satan never had a truer follower.

Four days passed, and the slave continued to bring bread and water. On the second morning, he found the bread gone, but the water untouched. After James had been in the press for four days and five nights, the slave informed his master. He said the water had not been touched for four mornings, and a horrible stench came from the gin house. The overseer was sent to investigate. When the press was unscrewed, James’s dead body was found partly eaten by rats and vermin. Perhaps the rats that ate his bread had gnawed him before he died. Poor Charity! Grandmother and I often wondered how her loving heart would bear the news if she ever heard of her son’s murder. We had known her husband, and we knew that James shared his manliness and intelligence. These qualities made it so hard for James to be a plantation slave. They put him in a rough box and buried him with less feeling than they would have shown an old house dog. Nobody asked any questions. He was a slave, and people felt that the master had a right to do as he pleased with his own property. And what did he care about the value of a slave? He had hundreds of them. When the slaves finished their daily work, they had to hurry to eat their small portions of food. They had to be ready to put out their pine knots before nine o’clock, when the overseer made his patrol rounds. He entered every cabin to make sure the men and their wives had gone to bed together. Otherwise, the men might fall asleep from exhaustion in the chimney corner. They might stay there until the morning horn called them to their daily work. Women are considered worthless unless they keep increasing their owner’s stock. They are treated like animals. This same master shot a woman through the head after she had run away and been brought back to him. No one held him accountable for it. If a slave resisted being whipped, the bloodhounds were released and set on him to tear the flesh from his bones. The master who did these things was highly educated and called a perfect gentleman. He also boasted of being a respected Christian, though Satan never had a truer follower.

I could tell of more slaveholders as cruel as those I have described. They are not exceptions to the general rule. I do not say there are no humane slaveholders. Such characters do exist, notwithstanding the hardening influences around them. But they are “like angels’ visits—few and far between.”

I could tell of more slaveholders as cruel as those I have described. They are not exceptions to the general rule. I do not say there are no humane slaveholders. Such people do exist, despite the hardening influences around them. But they are “like angels’ visits, few and far between.”

I knew a young lady who was one of these rare specimens. She was an orphan, and inherited as slaves a woman and her six children. Their father was a free man. They had a comfortable home of their own, parents and children living together. The mother and eldest daughter served their mistress during the day, and at night returned to their dwelling, which was on the premises. The young lady was very pious, and there was some reality in her religion. She taught her slaves to lead pure lives, and wished them to enjoy the fruit of their own industry. Her religion was not a garb put on for Sunday, and laid aside till Sunday returned again. The eldest daughter of the slave mother was promised in marriage to a free man; and the day before the wedding this good mistress emancipated her, in order that her marriage might have the sanction of law.

I knew a young woman who was one of these rare people. She was an orphan and inherited an enslaved woman and her six children. Their father was a free man. The parents and children lived together in a comfortable home of their own. The mother and eldest daughter served their mistress during the day. At night, they returned to their home on the property. The young woman was very religious, and there was genuine faith in her religion. She taught the people she enslaved to lead pure lives and wanted them to enjoy the rewards of their own work. Her religion was not something she put on for Sunday and set aside until the next Sunday. The enslaved mother’s eldest daughter was engaged to a free man. The day before the wedding, this good mistress freed her so that her marriage would be recognized by law.

Report said that this young lady cherished an unrequited affection for a man who had resolved to marry for wealth. In the course of time a rich uncle of hers died. He left six thousand dollars to his two sons by a colored woman, and the remainder of his property to this orphan niece. The metal soon attracted the magnet. The lady and her weighty purse became his. She offered to manumit her slaves—telling them that her marriage might make unexpected changes in their destiny, and she wished to insure their happiness. They refused to take their freedom, saying that she had always been their best friend, and they could not be so happy any where as with her. I was not surprised. I had often seen them in their comfortable home, and thought that the whole town did not contain a happier family. They had never felt slavery; and, when it was too late, they were convinced of its reality.

People said that this young woman loved a man who did not love her back. He had decided to marry for money. In time, her rich uncle died. He left six thousand dollars to his two sons by a woman of color. He left the rest of his property to this orphaned niece. The metal soon attracted the magnet. The woman and her heavy purse became his. She offered to free the people she enslaved. She told them her marriage might bring unexpected changes to their lives, and she wanted to ensure their happiness. They refused their freedom, saying she had always been their best friend. They said they could not be as happy anywhere else as they were with her. I was not surprised. I had often seen them in their comfortable home. I thought the whole town did not have a happier family. They had never felt slavery, and when it was too late, they became convinced of its reality.

When the new master claimed this family as his property, the father became furious, and went to his mistress for protection. “I can do nothing for you now, Harry,” said she. “I no longer have the power I had a week ago. I have succeeded in obtaining the freedom of your wife; but I cannot obtain it for your children.” The unhappy father swore that nobody should take his children from him. He concealed them in the woods for some days; but they were discovered and taken. The father was put in jail, and the two oldest boys sold to Georgia. One little girl, too young to be of service to her master, was left with the wretched mother. The other three were carried to their master’s plantation. The eldest soon became a mother, and, when the slaveholder’s wife looked at the babe, she wept bitterly. She knew that her own husband had violated the purity she had so carefully inculcated. She had a second child by her master, and then he sold her and his offspring to his brother. She bore two children to the brother, and was sold again. The next sister went crazy. The life she was compelled to lead drove her mad. The third one became the mother of five daughters. Before the birth of the fourth the pious mistress died. To the last, she rendered every kindness to the slaves that her unfortunate circumstances permitted. She passed away peacefully, glad to close her eyes on a life which had been made so wretched by the man she loved.

When the new master claimed the family as his property, the father became furious. He went to his mistress for protection. “I can do nothing for you now, Harry,” she said. “I no longer have the power I had a week ago. I have managed to secure your wife’s freedom, but I cannot secure your children’s freedom.” The distraught father swore that nobody would take his children from him. He hid them in the woods for several days, but they were discovered and taken. The father was jailed, and the two oldest boys were sold to Georgia. One little girl, too young to be useful to her master, was left with her miserable mother. The other three were taken to their master’s plantation. The eldest soon became a mother. When the slaveholder’s wife saw the baby, she wept bitterly. She knew that her own husband had violated the purity she had taught the girl so carefully. The girl had a second child by her master. Then he sold her and his children to his brother. She had two children by the brother and was sold again. The next sister went insane. The life she was forced to lead drove her mad. The third sister became the mother of five daughters. Before the fourth daughter was born, the devout mistress died. Until the end, she showed the slaves every kindness her unfortunate circumstances allowed. She died peacefully, glad to close her eyes on a life made so miserable by the man she loved.

This man squandered the fortune he had received, and sought to retrieve his affairs by a second marriage; but, having retired after a night of drunken debauch, he was found dead in the morning. He was called a good master; for he fed and clothed his slaves better than most masters, and the lash was not heard on his plantation so frequently as on many others. Had it not been for slavery, he would have been a better man, and his wife a happier woman.

This man wasted the fortune he had received and tried to restore it by marrying a second time. But after going to bed following a night of drunken excess, he was found dead in the morning. He was called a good master because he fed and clothed his slaves better than most masters did. The lash was also heard less often on his plantation than on many others. If not for slavery, he would have been a better man, and his wife a happier woman.

No pen can give an adequate description of the all-pervading corruption produced by slavery. The slave girl is reared in an atmosphere of licentiousness and fear. The lash and the foul talk of her master and his sons are her teachers. When she is fourteen or fifteen, her owner, or his sons, or the overseer, or perhaps all of them, begin to bribe her with presents. If these fail to accomplish their purpose, she is whipped or starved into submission to their will. She may have had religious principles inculcated by some pious mother or grandmother, or some good mistress; she may have a lover, whose good opinion and peace of mind are dear to her heart; or the profligate men who have power over her may be exceedingly odious to her. But resistance is hopeless.

No one can adequately describe the corruption that slavery spreads everywhere. An enslaved girl grows up surrounded by sexual abuse and fear. The whip and the filthy talk of her master and his sons are her teachers. When she is fourteen or fifteen, her owner, his sons, or the overseer begin to bribe her with gifts. Perhaps all of them do. If the gifts fail to achieve their purpose, she is whipped or starved into submitting to them. A religious mother or grandmother, or a kind mistress, may have taught her religious principles. She may have a lover whose good opinion and peace of mind mean a great deal to her. Or the immoral men who have power over her may be utterly repulsive to her. But resistance is hopeless.

The slaveholder’s sons are, of course, vitiated, even while boys, by the unclean influences every where around them. Nor do the master’s daughters always escape. Severe retributions sometimes come upon him for the wrongs he does to the daughters of the slaves. The white daughters early hear their parents quarrelling about some female slave. Their curiosity is excited, and they soon learn the cause. They are attended by the young slave girls whom their father has corrupted; and they hear such talk as should never meet youthful ears, or any other ears. They know that the women slaves are subject to their father’s authority in all things; and in some cases they exercise the same authority over the men slaves. I have myself seen the master of such a household whose head was bowed down in shame; for it was known in the neighborhood that his daughter had selected one of the meanest slaves on his plantation to be the father of his first grandchild. She did not make her advances to her equals, nor even to her father’s more intelligent servants. She selected the most brutalized, over whom her authority could be exercised with less fear of exposure. Her father, half frantic with rage, sought to revenge himself on the offending black man; but his daughter, foreseeing the storm that would arise, had given him free papers, and sent him out of the state.

The slaveholder’s sons are, of course, corrupted even as boys by the unclean influences all around them. The master’s daughters do not always escape either. He is sometimes punished severely for the wrongs he does to the daughters of enslaved people. From an early age, his white daughters hear their parents quarreling about an enslaved woman. Their curiosity is stirred, and they soon learn the cause. They are waited on by the young enslaved girls their father has corrupted. They hear talk that no young person, or anyone else, should ever hear. They know that the enslaved women are subject to their father’s authority in all things. In some cases, the daughters exercise the same authority over enslaved men. I myself have seen the master of such a household with his head bowed in shame. Everyone in the neighborhood knew that his daughter had chosen one of the lowest enslaved men on his plantation to father his first grandchild. She did not make advances to her equals, or even to her father’s more intelligent servants. She chose the most brutalized man, over whom she could exercise her authority with less fear of being exposed. Her father, nearly frantic with rage, sought revenge against the Black man who had offended him. But his daughter had foreseen the storm that would arise. She had given the man papers granting him freedom and sent him out of the state.

In such cases the infant is smothered, or sent where it is never seen by any who know its history. But if the white parent is the father, instead of the mother, the offspring are unblushingly reared for the market. If they are girls, I have indicated plainly enough what will be their inevitable destiny.

In such cases, the infant is smothered or sent away, never to be seen by anyone who knows its history. But if the white parent is the father rather than the mother, the children are raised for sale without shame. If they are girls, I have made their inevitable fate clear enough.

You may believe what I say; for I write only that whereof I know. I was twenty-one years in that cage of obscene birds. I can testify, from my own experience and observation, that slavery is a curse to the whites as well as to the blacks. It makes the white fathers cruel and sensual; the sons violent and licentious; it contaminates the daughters, and makes the wives wretched. And as for the colored race, it needs an abler pen than mine to describe the extremity of their sufferings, the depth of their degradation.

You can believe me, because I write only about what I know. I spent twenty-one years in that cage of obscene birds. From my own experience and observation, I can say that slavery is a curse to white people as well as black people. It makes white fathers cruel and lustful, and their sons violent and sexually immoral. It corrupts their daughters and makes their wives miserable. As for people of color, it would take a more skilled writer than I am to describe how deeply they suffer and how degrading their treatment is.

Yet few slaveholders seem to be aware of the widespread moral ruin occasioned by this wicked system. Their talk is of blighted cotton crops—not of the blight on their children’s souls.

Yet few slaveholders seem aware of the widespread moral ruin caused by this wicked system. They talk about ruined cotton crops, not the ruin of their children’s souls.

If you want to be fully convinced of the abominations of slavery, go on a southern plantation, and call yourself a negro trader. Then there will be no concealment; and you will see and hear things that will seem to you impossible among human beings with immortal souls.

If you want to be fully convinced of the horrors of slavery, visit a Southern plantation and call yourself a slave trader. Then nothing will be hidden from you. You will see and hear things that seem impossible among human beings with immortal souls.