On looking around I perceived a large door in two halves, with spring hinges, leading as it were further into the building. I pushed one half open, and found myself in a spacious circular hall,--its roof, ending in a dome, supported by a suitable number of massive columns. The floor was tastefully paved with black and white marble, and all the light came from the dome. Some 100 gentlemen were sauntering about, and now and then turning to several groupes of black people to ask them questions. This place was evidently fitted up for auctioneering purposes, and seemed peculiarly adapted for man-selling. At equal distances were a dozen elevated desks for the chief actors, each with a small platform in front for the exhibition of the articles of sale. It was a quarter to twelve, by the clock that faced the entrance door, when I got in. Anxious to know what kind of questions were put to the slaves, I pushed myself into the knots of intending purchasers, just as if I had been one of them. The inquiries, I found, related to place of birth, subsequent removals, competency for work, and so forth. The answers presented a fearful view of the extent to which the internal slave-trade is carried on. Most of the slaves said they had been "raised" in Virginia and Kentucky. To avoid the suspicion of being a spy, I resolved to put a few questions too. I found myself at the establishment where those named in the advertisement which had drawn me thither were to be disposed of. A pile of handbills--each containing an exact copy of the advertisement, and a French translation--was lying on the platform. Taking one up, I observed the name of "Squires, a carpenter." Assuming all the confidence I could muster, I said, "Which is Squires?" "I'm here, sir." "You are a carpenter, are you not?" "Yes, sir," (with a very polite bow). "And what can you do?" "I can trim a house, sir, from top to bottom." "Can you make a panelled door?" "Yes, Sir." "Sash windows?" "Yes, sir." "A staircase?" "Yes, sir." I gave a wise and dignified nod, and passed on to another groupe. In my progress, I found by one of the platforms a middle-aged black woman, and a mulatto girl of perhaps eighteen crouching by her side. "Are you related to each other?" I said. "No, sir." "Have you lived long in the city?" I said to the younger. "About two years, sir; but I was 'raised' in South Carolina." "And why does your owner sell you?" "Because I cannot cut--she wants a cutter--I can only sew." I then returned to the groupe at platform No. 1.