horrible as they appear, are entirely consistent with chattel slavery. And the general practice upon these laws comes up fully to their spirit. Whenever the convenience, interest or passion of a master requires it, slaves are sold and scattered abroad without the slightest regard to those dear and sacred connections, which they regard, and which God, no doubt, regards as marriage. In newspaper advertisements for runaway slaves it is frequently stated that the fugitive property was bought at a certain place “where he has a wife,” and the probability is that he is “lurking about that place.” An advertisement in a New Orleans paper, after describing the slave Charles, as “six feet high,” “copper color,” rather “pleasing appearance,” adds, in order that the pursuers may have some clue to his whereabouts, “it is more than probable that he will make his way to Tennessee, as he has a wife now living there.”

Another advertises the runaway “Ned,” of “copper color, full forehead.” “Ned,” continues the notice, “was purchased in Richmond of Mr. Goodin, and has a wife in that vicinity.”

Another describes a runaway woman, and suggests that she may be lurking about “in the country where her husband is owned.”

These are very natural suggestions. A husband, though a slave, and bound to his wife by no legal tie, is not unfrequently to the slave wife all that husband means, and if that wife escape from her unfeeling oppressors, who have carried her away to a distant State, it is quite natural that she should bend her steps toward the partner of her bosom, and subject herself to incredible hardships and dangers that she might see his face once more, and unburden to him her sorrow-ladened heart.

And that wife, though a slave, unprotected by the laws, driven by the shameful lash, insulted, disgraced and neglected, is a wife still. And when “Ned,” as he is called, runs away, it is quite natural that he should, impelled by a husband’s love, seek out the hut where years before he had been suddenly separated from her. These advertisements for husbands who are supposed to be “lurking about” in search of their wives, and of wives hunting for their husbands, tell a sad tale. What husband or wife can read them without deep sorrow?

The following statement from the pen of an eye witness will illustrate scenes which are being enacted continually in the prosecution of the inter-state slave trade.

“As I went on board the steamboat I noticed eight colored men, handcuffed and chained together in pairs, four women and eight or ten children of the apparent ages of from four to ten years, all standing together in the bow of the boat, in charge of a man standing near them. * * * Coming near them, I perceived they were all greatly agitated; and, on inquiry I found they were all slaves, who had been born and raised in North Carolina and had just been sold to a speculator, who was now taking them to the Charleston market. Upon the shore there was a number of colored persons, women and children, awaiting the departure of the boat; and my attention was particularly attracted by two colored females of uncommonly respectable appearance, neatly attired, who stood together, a little distance from the crowd, and upon whose countenance was depicted the keenest sorrow. As the last bell was tolling, I saw the tears gushing from their eyes, and they raised their neat cotton aprons and wiped their faces under the cutting anguish of severed affection. They were the wives of two of the men in chains. There, too, were mothers and sisters, weeping at the departure of their sons and brothers; and there, too, were fathers, taking the last look of their wives and children. My whole attention was directed to those on shore, as they seemed to stand in solemn and submissive silence, occasionally giving utterance to the intensity of their feelings by a sigh or a stifled groan. As the boat was loosed from her moorings, they cast a distressed, lingering look to those on board, and turned away in silence. My eye now turned to those in the boat; and although I had tried to control my feelings amidst my sympathies for those on shore, I could conceal them no longer, and I found myself literally ‘weeping with those that wept.’ I stood near them, and when one of the husbands saw his wife upon the shore wave her hand for the last time, in token of her affection, his manly efforts to restrain his feelings gave way, and fixing his watery eyes upon her, he exclaimed, ‘This is the most distressing thing of all! My dear wife and children, farewell!’ The husband of the other wife stood weeping in silence, and with his manacled hands raised to his face, as he looked upon her for the last time. Of the poor women on board; three of them had husbands whom they left behind. One of them had three children, another had two, and the third had none. These husbands and fathers were among the throng upon the shore, witnessing the departure of their wives and children, and as they took their leave of them, they were sitting together upon the floor of the boat sobbing in silence, but giving utterance to no complaint. But the distressing scene was not yet ended. Sailing down the Cape Fear river twenty-five miles, we touched at the little village of Smithport, on the south side of the river. It was at this place that one of these slaves lived, and here was his wife and five children; and while at work on Monday last, his purchaser took him away from his family, carried him in chains to Wilmington, where he had since remained in jail. As we approached the wharf, a flood of tears gushed from his eyes, and anguish seemed to have pierced his heart. The boat stopped but a moment, and as she left, he bid farewell to some of his acquaintances whom he saw upon the shore, exclaiming, ‘Boys, I wish you well; tell Molly (meaning his wife) and the children I wish them well, and hope God will bless them.’ At that moment he espied his wife on the stoop of a house some rods from the shore, and with one hand which was not in the handcuffs, he pulled off his old hat, and waving it toward her, exclaimed, ‘Farewell!’ As he saw by the waving of her apron that she recognized him, he leaned back upon the railing, and with a faltering voice repeated, ‘Farewell, forever.’ After a moment’s silence, conflicting passions seemed to tear open his heart, and he exclaimed, ‘What have I done that I should suffer this doom? Oh, my wife and children, I want to live no longer!’ and then the big tear rolled down his cheek, which he wiped away with the palm of his unchained hand, looked once more upon the mother of his five children, and the turning of the boat hid her face from him forever.”