the work people are released for the rest of the day after six o'clock in the evening, and as that hour now approached, the beautiful song of the slaves, “Hallelujah, Amen!” did not sound like a burlesque; neither, however, did it sound cheerful, nor yet did the singers look cheerful. Good Miss Van L. could not refrain from weeping. The slaves were all Baptists, and sung only hymns. The gay, sunny negro songs are only heard here in the slave-selling houses, or the so-called negro jails. If these slaves had only any future, any thing to hope for, to strive for, to live for, any prospect before them—then I should not deplore their lot—but nothing, nothing!!! The extreme few who are released by the work of colonisation cannot be taken into consideration in comparison with the mass who have no hope at all!——
I received, on leaving the manufactory, as a present from the proprietor (a stout, good kind of gentleman), guess what?—a large cake of chewing tobacco! The present was so characteristic both of the fabric and of Virginia, that I accepted it with great pleasure; and besides, it is of a very fine quality. I kept it, however, as far from my nose as possible on my drive home, but I know, nevertheless, mouths in Sweden that would set a high value on it.
In the evening I was invited to a large party, at which a thousand people, the élite of the society of Richmond, were to be present.
“He is the severest slave-owner in the whole neighbourhood. One can tell his slaves when one meets them on the high road from their half-famished appearance!”
“Yes, he is a bad man, but he is very rich.”
It was thus that I heard two people of my acquaintance, themselves slave-owners, talking to each other last evening.
“Who is so bad and so rich at the same time?” inquired I.
“That very gentleman, Mr. ——, to whose house you
