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Updated: June 17, 2025
How large her eyes look! But she's beautiful as an angel." "I never see Missy Rosy but once when she wasn't beautiful as an angel," said Tulee; "and that was the night Massa Duroy told her she was sold to Massa Bruteman. Then she looked as if she had as many devils as that Mary Magdalene Massa Royal used to read about o' Sundays." "No wonder, poor child!" exclaimed Madame.
Duroy went on to speak of Tom's visit to Madame; and slowly and cautiously he prepared the way for his account of the conversation between Mr. Fitzgerald and Mr. Bruteman. But careful as he was, he noticed that her features tightened and her hands were clenched. When he came to the interchange of writings, she sprung to her feet, and, clutching his arm convulsively, exclaimed, "Did he do that?"
"I have learned from G.F. that the first thing he remembers of himself is living with an old negress, about ten miles from New Orleans, with eight other children, of various shades, but none so white as himself. He judges he was about nine years old when he was carried to New Orleans, and let out by a rich man named Bruteman to a hotel-keeper, to black boots, do errands, &c.
If you will allow her to come back to her business and remain undisturbed, and will make me a sale of these girls, I don't care if I do say two thousand." "He has told you where they are!" exclaimed Mr. Bruteman, abruptly; "and let me tell you, if you know where they are, you are not acting the part of a gentleman." "He has not told me, I assure you, nor has he given me the slightest intimation.
Bruteman telegraphed to grandfather about them, and the next morning he sent me to tell Captain Kane to send the slaves down to the islands in the harbor, and keep them under guard till a vessel passed that would take them back to New Orleans. I did his errand, without bestowing upon the subjects of it any more thought or care than I should have done upon two bales of cotton.
Fitzgerald answered, "One of them is dead." "Which one?" inquired his comrade. "Flora, the youngest, was drowned." "And that queenly beauty, where is she? I don't know that I ever heard her name." "Rosabella Royal," replied Fitzgerald. "She is living at a convenient distance from my plantation." "Well, I will be generous," said Bruteman. "If you will make her over to me, I will cancel the debt."
"How is that possible," inquired Mr. Bruteman, "when you have married the daughter of a Boston nabob?" "The close old Yankee keeps hold of most of his money while he lives," rejoined his companion; "and Mrs. Fitzgerald has expensive tastes to be gratified." "And do you expect me to wait till the old Yankee dies?" asked Mr. Bruteman.
Chandler," as you would all agree, gentlemen, if you had seen them; for they are fancy articles, A No. 1." "Is it certain the young ladies are slaves?" inquired Blumenthal, with a degree of agitation that attracted attention toward him. "It is certain," replied Mr. Bruteman. "Their mother was a slave, and was never manumitted."
But he foresaw that Bruteman would suspect him of having forewarned her, though he had solemnly pledged himself not to do so. He immediately wrote him the tidings, with expressions of surprise and regret. The answer he received led to a duel, in which he received a wound in the shoulder, that his wife always supposed was occasioned by a fall from his horse. When Mr.
"It is time that we did so," rejoined Mr. Bruteman. "Officers have been sent for these slaves of Mr. Royal, and they are probably now lodged in jail. At our next meeting we will decide upon the time of sale." Young Blumenthal rose and attempted to go out; but a blindness came over him, and he staggered against the wall. "I reckon that youngster's an Abolitionist," muttered Mr. Chandler.
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