"Done? Nothing."
"What are you going to do with her?"
"I'm taking her down to Richmond, to be sold."
"Does she belong to you?"
"No; she belongs to ; he raised her."
"Why does he sell her—has she done anything wrong?"
"Done anything? No: she's no fault, I reckon."
"Then, what does he want to sell her for?"
"Sell her for! Why shouldn't he sell her? He sells one or two every year; wants the money for 'em, I reckon."
The irritated tone and severe stare with which this was said, my friend took as a caution not to pursue his investigation.
A gentleman with whom I was conversing on the subject of the cost of slave labour, in answer to an inquiry—What proportion of all the stock of slaves of an old plantation might be reckoned upon to do full work?—answered, that he owned ninety-six negroes; of these, only thirty-five were field-hands, the rest being either too young or too old for hard work. He reckoned his whole force as only equal to twenty-one strong men, or "prime field-hands." But this proportion was somewhat smaller than usual, he added, "because his women were uncommonly good breeders; he did not suppose there was a lot of women anywhere that bred faster than his; he never heard of babies coming so fast as they did on his plantation; it was perfectly surprising; and every one of them, in his estimation, was worth two hundred dollars, as negroes were selling now, the moment it drew breath."
I asked what he thought might be the usual proportion of workers to slaves, supported on plantations, throughout the South. On the large cotton and sugar plantations of the more Southern States, it was very high, he replied; because their hands were nearly all bought and picked for work; he supposed, on these, it would be about one-half; but, on any
