I was quite struck to see in
Charleston such a disproportion of the colours, and, without
exaggerating, I can say, that almost if not quite three-fourths of those
I met in the streets were, if not actually of the negro race, tinged in
a greater or less degree with the hue.
Pursuing my perambulations, I came to the slave and general cotton place
of vendue, to the left of the General Post-office, which building is a
very substantial edifice of stone. Here a dozen or twenty auctioneers
were loudly holding forth to the assembled crowds, and cracking up their
wares in New York style. The most indescribable scene of bustle and
confusion prevailed, the whole street being covered with open bales and
boxes of goods. In one part of the street was a slave warehouse, and
advertisements were placarded outside of the particulars of the various
lots to be offered for competition, and now on view. As the privilege of
viewing in this instance was confined to those who possessed tickets, I
did not apply for one, as I knew that the wish would be attributed to
curiosity, and possibly a worse construction be put upon it, through my
being a stranger in the place.
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