THE NEGRO. 113 



BRAZIL. 



During our stay at an estate on the river Macahe, I was 

 very near being an eye-witness to one of those atrocious acts 

 which can only take place in a slave country. Owing to a 

 quarrel and a lawsuit, the owner was on the point of taking 

 all the women and children from the male slaves, and selling 

 them separately at the public auction at Rio. Self-interest, 

 and not any feeling of pity, prevented this act. Indeed, I 

 do not believe the inhumanity of separating thirty families, 

 who had lived together for many years, ever occurred to the 

 owner. Yet I will pledge myself that in humanity and good 

 feeling he was better than the common run of men. It may 

 be said there is no limit to the blindness of interest and self- 

 ish habit. I may mention one very trifling incident which, 

 at the time, struck me more forcibly than any story of cruelty. 

 I was crossing a ferry with a negro who was uncommonly 

 stupid. In endeavoring to make him understand, I talked 

 loud and made signs, in doing which I passed my hand near 

 his face. He, I suppose, thought I was in a passion and was 

 going to strike him, for instantly, with a frightened look and 

 half-shut eyes, he dropped his hands. I shall never forget 

 my feelings of surprise, disgust, and shame at seeing a great 

 powerful man afraid even to ward off a blow, directed, as he 

 thought, at his face. This man had been trained to a degra- 

 dation lower than the slavery of the most helpless animal. 



On the 19th of August, 1836, we finally left the shores of 

 Brazil. I thank God I shall never again visit a slave country. 

 To this day, if I hear a distant scream, it recalls with pain- 

 ful vividness my feelings when, passing a house near Pernam- 

 buco, I heard the most pitiable moans, and could not but 



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