THE cholera raging on Marston's plantation, had excited Graspum's fears. His pecuniary interests were above every other consideration-he knew no higher object than the accumulation of wealth; and to ascertain the precise nature and extent of the malady he had sent Romescos to reconnoitre.

Returning to the long-room at Graspum's slave-pen, we must introduce the reader to scenes which take place on the night following that upon which Romescos secured the bill of sale at Marston's mansion.

Around the table we have before described sit Graspum and some dozen of his clan. Conspicuous among them is Dan Bengal, and Nath Nimrod, whom we described as running into the room unceremoniously, holding by the hair the head of a negro, and exulting over it as a prize of much value. They are relating their adventures, speculating over the prospects of trade, comparing notes on the result of making free trash human property worth something! They all manifest the happiest of feelings, have a language of their own, converse freely; at times sprinkle their conversation with pointed oaths. They are conversant with the business affairs of every planter in the State, know his liabilities, the condition of his negroes, his hard cases, his bad cases, his runaways, and his prime property. Their dilations on the development of wenches, shades of colour, qualities of stock suited to the various markets-from Richmond to New Orleans-disclose a singular foresight into the article of poor human nature.

"There's nothing like pushing our kind of business, specially whin ye gits it where ye can push profitably," speaks Bengal, his fiery red eyes glaring over the table as he droops his head sluggishly, and, sipping his whiskey, lets it drip over his beard upon his bosom; "if 't warn't for Anthony's cunnin' we'd have a pesky deal of crooked law to stumble through afore we'd get them rich uns upset."

My reader must know that southern law and justice for the poor succumb to popular feeling in all slave atmospheres; and happy is the fellow who can work his way through slavedom without being dependent upon the one or brought under the influence of the other.

Graspum, in reply to Bengal, feels that gentlemen in the "nigger business" should respect themselves. He well knows there exists not the best feeling in the world between them and the more exclusive aristocracy, whose feelings must inevitably be modified to suit the democratic spirit of the age. He himself enjoys that most refined society, which he asserts to be strong proof of the manner in which democracy is working its way to distinction. Our business, he says, hath so many avenues that it has become positively necessary that some of them should be guarded by men of honour, dignity, and irreproachable conduct. Now, he has sent Anthony Romescos to do some watching on the sly, at Marston's plantation; but there is nothing dishonourable in that, inasmuch as the victim is safe in his claws. Contented with these considerations, Graspum puffs his cigar very composedly. From slave nature, slave-seeking adventures, and the intricacies of the human-property-market, they turn to the discussion of state rights, of freedom in its broadest and most practical sense. And, upon the principle of the greatest despot being foremost to discuss what really constitutes freedom, which, however, he always argues in an abstract sense, Nimrod was loudest and most lavish in his praises of a protective government—a government that would grant great good justice to the white man only. It matters little to Nimrod which is the greater nigger; he believes in the straight principles of right in the white man. It is not so much how justice is carried out when menial beings form a glorious merchandise; but it is the true essence of liberty, giving men power to keep society all straight, to practice liberty very liberally. "Ye see, now, Graspum," he quaintly remarks, as he takes up the candle to light his cigar, "whatever ye do is right, so long as the law gives a feller a right to do it. 'Tisn't a bit o' use to think how a man can be too nice in his feelings when a hundred or two's to be made on nigger property what's delicate, t'aint! A feller feels sore once in a while, a' cos his conscience is a little touchy now and then; but it won't do to give way to it-conscience don't bring cash. When ye launches out in the nigger-trading business ye must feel vengeance agin the brutes, and think how it's only trade; how it's perfectly legal-and how it's encouraged by the Governor's proclamations. Human natur's human natur'; and when ye can turn a penny at it, sink all the in'ard inclinations. Just let the shiners slide in, it don't matter a tenpence where ye got 'em. Trade's everything! you might as well talk about patriotism among crowned heads,—about the chivalry of commerce: cash makes consequence, and them's what makes gentlemen, south."

They welcome the spirits, although it has already made them soulless. The negro listens to a dialogue of singular import to himself; his eyes glistened with interest, as one by one they sported over the ignorance enforced upon the weak. One by one they threw their slouch hats upon the floor, drew closer in conclave, forming a grotesque picture of fiendish faces. "Now, gentlemen," Graspum deigns to say, after a moment's pause, motioning to the decanter, "pass it along round when ye gets a turn about." He fills his glass and drinks, as if drink were a necessary accompaniment of the project before them. "This case of Marston's is a regular plumper; there's a spec to be made in that stock of stuff; and them bright bits of his own-they look like him-'ll make right smart fancy. Ther' developing just in the right sort of way to be valuable for market."

"There's movin' o' the shrewdest kind to be done there, Graspum! Where's the dockerment what 'll make 'um property, eh?" interrupted Nimrod, twisting the hair with which his face is covered into fantastic points.

"Oh, my good fellows, public opinion's the dockerment; with the bright side of public opinion! Public opinion whispers about Clotilda: it says she looks so much like that niece of Marston's, that you couldn't tell them apart. And they are like two pins, gentlemen; but then one's property and t'other's anything but property. One will bring something substantial in the market: I wouldn't say much about the other. But there's pride in the whole family, and where it's got into the niggers it's worth a few extra dollars. The Marstons and Roveros don't think much of we dealers when they don't want our money; but when they do we are cousins of the right stripe. However, these ere little aristocratic notions don't mount to much; they are bin generous blood-mixers, and now they may wince over it-"

Graspum is interrupted again. Bengal has been analysing his logic, and rises to dispute the logic of his arguments. He is ready to stake his political faith, and all his common sense-of which he never fails to boast-that mixing the blood of the two races destroys the purity of the nigger, spiles the gauge of the market, detracts from real plantation property, and will just upset the growin' of young niggers. He is sure he knows just as much about the thing as anybody else, has never missed his guess, although folks say he aint no way clever at selection; and, rubbing his eyes after adjusting the long black hair that hangs down over his shoulders, he folds his arms with an independent air, and waits the rejoinder.

The dingy room breathes thick of deleterious fumes; a gloom hangs over their meditations, deep and treacherous: it excites fear, not of the men, but of the horrors of their trade. A dim light hangs suspended from the ceiling: even the sickly shade contrasts strangely with their black purpose.

"Variety of shade, my dear Bengal, is none of our business. If you make a division you destroy the property and the principle. We don't represent the South: if we did, my stars! how the abolitionists would start up,—eh! Now, there's a right smart chance of big aristocrat folks in the district, and they think something of their niggers, and some are fools enough to think niggers have souls just as white as we. That's where the thing don't strike our morals alike. It's all right to let such folks represent us-that it is! It tells down north."

"I goes in for that! It puts a polished face on the brown side of things. That's the way I puts it on when I gets among the big 'uns on 'Change. I talks to one, shakes hands with another, touches my hat to the president of the bank; and then them what don't know thinks how I do a little in the taking a corner of notes line!" "In the same sly way that directors of banks do," interrupts a voice, sullenly and slow. It was long Joe Morphet, the constable's sponge, who did a little in the line of nigger trailing, and now and then acted as a contingent of Graspum. Joe had, silently and with great attention, listened to their consultations, expecting to get a hook on at some point where his services would play at a profit; but it all seemed beyond his comprehension-amounted to nothing.

"There's something in Joe, gentlemen! But our genteelest folks don't alway do the genteelest things, arter all. Right-right! Joe's right!" Graspum has suddenly comprehended Joe's logic, and brightens up with the possession of a new idea, that at first was inclined to get crosswise in his mind, which he has drilled in the minor details of human nature rather than the political dignity of the state. Joe's ideas are ranging over the necessity of keeping up a good outside for the state; Graspum thinks only of keeping up the dignity of himself. "Well, give in, fellers; Joe's right clever. He's got head enough to get into Congress, and if polished up wouldn't make the worst feller that ever was sent: he wouldn't, to my certain knowledge. Joe's clever! What great men do with impunity little men have no scruples in following; what the state tolerates, knaves may play upon to their own advantage. To keep up the dignity of a slave state, slave dealers must keep up dignity among themselves: the one cannot live without the other. They must affect, and the state must put on, the dignity; and northerners what aint gentlemen must be taught to know that they aint gentlemen." This is the conclusion to which Graspum has arrived on the maturest reflection of a few minutes: it conforms with the opinion and dignity of slaveocracy-must be right, else the glorious Union, with the free-thinking north unfortunately attached, could never be preserved. It's the nut of a glorious compact which the south only must crack, and will crack. Graspum apologised for the thing having escaped his memory so long. He remembered that southerners left no stone unturned that could serve the policy of concentrating slave power; and he remembered that it was equally necessary to keep an eye to the feeling abroad. There were in America none but southern nobles,—no affable gentlemen who could do the grace of polite circles except themselves,—none who, through their bland manners, could do more to repel the awful descriptions given of southern society, nor who could not make strangers believe slaves were happy mortals, happily created to live in all the happiness of slave life. "There's nothing like putting our learned folks ahead-they're polished down for the purpose, you see-and letting them represent us when abroad; they puts a different sort of shine on things what our institution makes profitable. They don't always set good examples at home, but we can't control their tastes on small matters of that kind: and then, what a valuable offset it is, just to have the power of doing the free and easy gentleman, to be the brilliant companion, to put on the smooth when you go among nobility what don't understand the thing!" Graspum adds, with a cunning wink.

"Pooh! pooh! such talk don't jingle. You can't separate our aristocracy from mistress-keeping. It's a matter of romance with them,—a matter of romance, gentlemen, that's all. The south couldn't live without romance, she couldn't!" adds Nimrod, stretching back in his chair.

"And where did you get that broad idea from, Jakey? I kind o' likes that sort of philosophy," adds another.

"Philosophy! I reckon how there is deep and strong philosophy in that ar; but ye can't calc'late much on't when ye haint talents to bring it out. That point where the soul comes in is a puzzler on Yankees; but it takes our editors and parsons to put the arguments where the Yankees can't demolish them. Read the Richmond—, my grandmother of the day, if ye want to see the philosophy of niggers, and their souls. That editor is a philosopher; the world's got to learn his philosophy. Just take that preacher from New Jersey, what preaches in All Saints; if he don't prove niggers aint no souls I'm a Dutchman, and dead at that! He gives 'em broadside logic, gentlemen; and if he hadn't been raised north he wouldn't bin so up on niggers when he cum south," was the quick rejoinder of our knowing expounder, who, looking Graspum in the face, demanded to know if he was not correct. Graspum thinks it better to waste no more time in words, but to get at the particular piece of business for which they have been called together. He is a man of money,—a man of trade, ever willing to admit the philosophy of the man-market, but don't see the difference of honour between the aristocrat who sells his bits in the market, and the honourable dealer who gets but a commission for selling them. And there's something about the parson who, forgetting the sanctity of his calling, sanctifies everything pertaining to slavery. Conscience, he admits, is a wonderful thing fixed somewhere about the heart, and, in spite of all he can do, will trouble it once in a while. Marston-poor Marston!-he declares to be foolishly troubled with it, and it makes him commit grievous errors. And then, there's no understandin' it, because Marston has a funny way of keeping it under such a knotty-looking exterior. Graspum declares he had nothing to do with the breaking out of the cholera, is very sorry for it,—only wants his own, just like any other honest man. He kind o' likes Marston, admits he is a sort of good fellow in his way; mighty careless though, wouldn't cheat anybody if he knew it, and never gave half a minute's thinking about how uncertain the world was. But the cholera-a dire disease among niggers-has broke out in all the fury of its ravages; and it makes him think of his sick niggers and paying his debts. "You see, gentlemen-we are all gentlemen here," Graspum continues,—"a man must pay the penalty of his folly once in a while. It's the fate of great men as well as smaller ones; all are liable to it. That isn't the thing, though; it don't do to be chicken-hearted afore niggers, nor when yer dealing in niggers, nor in any kind o' business what ye want to make coin at. Marston 'll stick on that point, he will; see if he don't. His feelins' are troubling him: he knows I've got the assignment; and if he don't put them ar' white 'uns of his in the schedule, I'll snap him up for fraud,—I will-"

The conversation is here interrupted by a loud rap at the door, which is opened by the negro, who stands with his finger on the latch. Romescos, in his slovenly garb, presents himself with an air of self-assurance that marks the result of his enterprise. He is a prominent feature in all Graspum's great operations; he is desperate in serving his interests. Drawing a handkerchief from his pocket-it is printed with the stars and stripes of freedom-he calls it a New England rag, disdainfully denounces that area of unbelievers in slaveocracy, wipes his blistered face with it, advances to the table-every eye intently watching him-and pauses for breath.

"What success, Anthony? Tell us quickly," Graspum demands, extending his hand nervously. "Anthony never fails! It's a fool who fails in our business," was the reply, delivered with great unconcern, and responded to with unanimous applause. A warrior returned from victory was Anthony,—a victory of villainy recorded in heaven, where the rewards will, at some day, be measured out with a just but awful retribution.

The bosom of his shirt lays broadly open: one by one they shake his hand, as he hastily unties the chequered cloth about his neck, pours out his drink of whiskey, seats himself in a chair, and deliberately places his feet upon the table. "Ther's nothin' like making a triangle of oneself when ye wants to feel so ye can blow comfortable," he says. "I done nothin' shorter than put all straight at Marston's last night. It was science, ye see, gents; and I done it up strictly according to science. A feller what aint cunnin', and don't know the nice work o' the law, can't do nothin' in the way o' science. It's just as you said"-addressing his remarks to Graspum,— "Marston's slackin' out his conscience because he sees how things are goin' down hill with him. If that old hoss cholera don't clar off the nigger property, I'm no prophet. It'll carry 'em into glory; and glory, I reckon, isn't what you calls good pay, eh, Graspum? I overheard his intentions: he sees the black page before him; it troubles the chicken part of his heart. Feels mighty meek and gentle all at once; and, it's no lie, he begins to see sin in what he has done; and to make repentance good he's goin' to shove off that nabob stock of his, so the creditors can't lay paws upon it. Ye got to spring; Marston 'll get ahead of ye if he don't, old feller. This child 'll show him how he can't cum some o' them things while Squire Hobble and I'm on hand." Thus quaintly he speaks, pulling the bill of sale from a side-pocket, throwing it upon the table with an air of satisfaction amounting to exultation. "Take that ar; put it where ye can put yer finger on't when the 'mergency comes." And he smiles to see how gratefully and anxiously Graspum receives it, reviews it, re-reviews it,—how it excites the joy of his nature. He has no soul beyond the love of gold, and the system of his bloody trade. It was that fatal instrument, great in the atmosphere of ungrateful law, bending some of nature's noblest beneath its seal of crimes. "It's from Silenus to Marston; rather old, but just the thing! Ah, you're a valuable fellow, Anthony." Mr. Graspum manifests his approbation by certain smiles, grimaces, and shakes of the hand, while word by word he reads it, as if eagerly relishing its worth. "It's a little thing for a great purpose; it'll tell a tale in its time;" and he puts the precious scrip safely in his pocket, and rubbing his hands together, declares "that deserves a bumper!" They fill up at Graspum's request, drink with social cheers, followed by a song from Nimrod, who pitches his tune to the words, "Come, landlord, fill the flowing bowl."

Nimrod finishes his song: Romescos takes the floor to tell a story about the old judge what hung the nigger a'cos he didn't want to spend his patience listening to the testimony, and adjourned the court to go and take a drink at Sal Stiles's grocery. His description of the court, its high jurisdiction, the dignity of the squire what sits as judge, how he drinks the three jurymen-freeholders-what are going to try a nigger, how they goes out and takes three drinks when the case gets about half way through, how the nigger winks and blinks when he sees the jury drunk, and hears the judge say there's only two things he likes to hang,—niggers and schoolmasters. But as it's no harm to kill schoolmasters-speaking in a southern sense-so Romescos thinks the squire who got the jury inebriated afore he sent the "nigger" to be hung doesn't mean the least harm when he evinces an abhorrence to the whole clan of schoolmaster trash. He turns to the old story of doing everything by system; ends by describing his method of drinking a whole jury. He has surprised Marston, got him on the hip, where he can feather him or sciver him, and where things must be done sly. Public opinion, he whispers, may set folks moving, and then they'll all be down upon him like hawks after chickens. In his mind, the feller what pulls first comes off first best-if the law hounds are not too soon let loose! If they are, there will be a long drag, a small cage for the flock, and very few birds with feathers on. Romescos cares for nobody but the judge: he tells us how the judge and he are right good cronies, and how it's telling a good many dollars at the end of the year to keep on the best of terms with him, always taking him to drink when they meet. The judge is a wonderfully clever fellow, in Romescos' opinion; ranks among first-class drinkers; can do most anything, from hanging a nigger to clearing the fellow that killed the schoolmaster, and said he'd clear a dozen in two two's, if they'd kill off ever so many of the rubbish. It is well to make his favour a point of interest. The company are become tired of this sort of cantation; they have heard enough of high functionaries, know quite enough of judges:—such things are in their line of business. Romescos must needs turn the conversation. "Well, taking it how I can entertain ye to most anything, I'll give ye a story on the secrets of how I used to run off Ingin remnants of the old tribes. 'Taint but a few years ago, ye know, when ther was a lot of Ingin and white, mixed stuff-some called it beautiful-down in Beaufort district. It was temptin' though, I reckon, and made a feller feel just as if he was runnin' it off to sell, every time it come in his way. Ye see, most on't was gal property, and that kind, ollers keeps the whole district in a hubbub; everybody's offended, and there's so much delicacy about the ladies what come in contact with it. Yes, gentlemen! the ladies-I means the aristocracy's ladies-hate these copper-coloured Ingins as they would female devils. It didn't do to offend the delicacy of our ladies, ye see; so something must be done, but it was all for charity's sake. Squire Hornblower and me fixes a plan a'tween us: it was just the plan to do good for the town-we must always be kind, ye know, and try to do good-and save the dear good ladies a great deal of unnecessary pain.

"Now, the squire had law larnin', and I had cunnin'; and both put together made the thing work to a point. The scheme worked so nicely that we put twelve out of fifteen of 'em right into pocket-money in less than three years-"

"Hold a second, Romescos; how did you play the game so adroitly, when they were all members of families living in the town? You're a remarkable fellow," Graspum interposes, stretching his arms, and twisting his sturdy figure over the side of his chair.

"That's what I was coming at. Ye see, whenever ye makes white trash what ain't slaved a nuisance, you makes it mightily unpopular; and when folks is unpopular the nuisance is easily removed, especially when ye can get pay for removing it. The law will be as tame as a mouse-nobody 'll say nothin'? Ingin and white rubbish is just alike-one's worth as little as t'other. Both's only fit to sell, sir!-worthless for any other purpose. Ye see, gentlemen, I'm something of a philosopher, and has strong faith in the doctrine of our popular governor, who believes it better to sell all poor whites into slavery. 'Tain't a free country where ye don't have the right to sell folks what don't provide for number one. I likes to hear our big folks talk so"-Anthony's face brightens-"'cause it gives a feller a chance for a free speculation in them lank, lean rascals; and, too, it would stop their rifle-shooting and corn-stealing-"

"You never try your hand at such hits-do you, Nathe?" Bengal interrupts, his fore-finger poised on his nose.

"Now, Dan," Anthony quaintly replies, "none o' yer pointed insinuations. 'Twouldn't be much harm if the varmin would only keep its mouth shut along the road. But when the critturs ar' got schoolmaster gumption it's mighty apt to get a feller into a tarnation snarl. Schoolmaster gumption makes d-d bad niggers; and there's why I say it's best to hang schoolmasters. It's dangerous, 'cos it larns the critturs to writin' a scrawl now and then; and, unless ye knows just how much talent he's got, and can whitewash him yaller, it's plaguy ticklish. When the brutes have larnin', and can write a little, they won't stay sold when ye sell 'em-that is, I mean, white riff-raff stuff; they ain't a bit like niggers and Ingins. And there's just as much difference a'tween the human natur of a white nigger and a poverty-bloated white as there is a'twixt philosophy and water-melons."

"You're drawing a long bow, Anthony," interrupts Graspum, with a suggestion that it were better to come to the point; and concludes by saying: "We don't care sevenpence about the worthless whites all over the State. They can't read nor write-except a few on 'em-and everybody knows it wouldn't do to give them learning-that wouldn't do! We want the way you cleared that nuisance out of Beaufort district so quick-that's what we want to hear."

"Well, ye'h sees, it took some keen play, some sly play, some dignity, and some talent; but the best thing of the whole was the squire's honour. He and me, ye see, joined partners—that is, he gets places for 'em away out o' town—you understand—places where I keeps a couple of the very best nags that ever stepped turf. And then he puts on the soft sauder, an' is so friendly to the critturs—gets 'em to come out with him to where he will make 'um nice house servants, and such things. He is good at planin', as all justices is, and would time it to arrive at midnight. I, havin' got a start, has all ready to meet him; so when he gives me the papers, I makes a bolt at full speed, and has 'um nowhere afore they knows it. And then, when they sees who it is, it don't do to make a fuss about it—don't! And then, they're so handsome, it ain't no trouble finding a market for 'em down Memphis way. It only takes forty-eight hours—the way things is done up by steam—from the time I clears the line until Timothy Portman signs the bond-that's five per cent. for him-and Ned Sturm does the swearin', and they're sold for a slap-up price—sent to where there's no muttering about it. That's one way we does it; and then, there's another. But, all in all, there's a right smart lot of other ways that will work their way into a talented mind. And when a feller gets the hang on it, and knows lawyer gumption, he can do it up smooth. You must strap 'em down, chain 'em, look vengeance at 'em; and now and then, when the varmin will squeal, spite of all the thrashin' ye can give 'em, box 'em up like rats, and put yer horses like Jehu until ye cl'ar the State. The more ye scars 'em the better-make 'em as whist as mice, and ye can run 'em through the rail-road, and sell 'um just as easy.

"There was another way I used to do the thing-it was a sort of an honourable way; but it used to take the talents of a senator to do it up square, so the dignity didn't suffer. Then the gals got shy of squire, 'cos them he got places for never cum back; and I know'd how 'twas best to leave two or three for a nest-egg. It was the way to do, in case some green should raise a fuss. But connected with these Ingin gals was one of the likleest yaller fellers that ever shined on a stand. Thar' was about twelve hundred dollars in him, I saw it just as straight, and felt it just as safe in my pocket; and then it made a feller's eyes glisten afore it was got out of him. I tell you what, boys, it's rather hard when ye comes to think on't." Anthony pauses for a moment, sharpens his eloquence with another drop of whiskey, and resumes his discourse. "The feller shined all outside, but he hadn't head talents-though he was as cunnin' as a fox-and every time the squire tried an experiment to get him out o'town, the nigger would dodge like a wounded raccoon. 'Twarn't a bit of use for the squire-so he just gin it up. Then I trys a hand, ye see, comes the soft soap over him, in a Sam Slick kind of a way. I'se a private gentleman, and gets the fellers round to call me a sort of an aristocrat. Doing this 'ere makes me a nabob in the town-another time I'm from New York, and has monstrous letters of introduction to the squire. Then I goes among the niggers and comes it over their stupid; tells 'em how I'm an abolitionist in a kind of secret way-gets their confidence. And then I larns a right smart deal of sayings from the Bible-a nigger's curious on Christianity, ye see-and it makes him think ye belong to that school, sartin! All the deviltry in his black natur' 'll cum out then; and he'll do just what ye tells him. So, ye see, I just draws the pious over him, and then-like all niggers-I gets him to jine in what he calculates to be a nice little bit of roguery-running off."

Graspum becomes interested in the fine qualities of the prospective property, and must needs ask if he is bright and trim.

"Bright! I reckon he warn't nothin' else in a money sense-brighter nor most niggers, but mighty Inginy. Had the fierce of one and the cunnin' of t'other. Tom Pridgeon and me has an understandin' about the thing; and Tom's such a ripper for tradin' in nigger property-he is about the only devil niggers can imagine; and they delight to play tricks on Tom. Well, the nigger and me's good friends, right to the point; a good trick is to be played off on Tom, who buys the nigger in confidence; the nigger is to run off when he gets to Savannah, and Tom is to be indicted for running off 'free niggers.' I'se a great Christian, and joins heart and hand with the darkey; we takes our walks together, reads together, prays together. And then 'tain't long afore I becomes just the best white man in his estimation. Knowing when Tom makes up his gang, I proposes a walk in the grove to the nigger. 'Thank ye, sir,' says he, in an Ingin kind of way, and out we goes, sits down, talks pious, sings hymns, and waits to see the rascally nigger-trader come along. Presently Tom makes his appearance, with a right smart lot of extra prime property. The nigger and me marches down the road just like master and servant, and stops just when we meets Tom. You'd laughed to see Tom and me do the stranger, 'Well, mister,' says I, 'how's trade in your line?-there's mighty good prices for cotton just now; an' I 'spose 't keeps the market stiff up in your line!'"

'Well, no,' says Tom: 'a feller can turn a good penny in the way o' fancy articles, just now; but 'tain't the time for prime plantation-stock. Planters are all buying, and breeders down Virginia way won't give a feller a chance to make a shaving. It drives a feller hard up, ye see, and forces more business in running the free 'uns.'

'Why, stranger! what on 'arth do you mean by that 'ar;-wouldn't ye get straightened if you'd git catched at that business?'

'Oh, nothing, nothing! I forgot what I was saying,' says Tom, just as if he was scared at what he had let slip.

'I say, trader, ye got the brightest assortment of property thar' I seen for many a day: you don't call them gals slaves, do you? Down where I cum from, our folks wouldn't know 'em from white folks.' I tell you, boys, he had some bits that would o' made yer heart cum straight up.

'But I say, mister, I kind 'a like yer horse property-somehow he's full blood,' says I. — 'Yes,' says Tom; 'he's one o' the best critturs to drive niggers with that ye ever did see; and he's beat the best horse on the Columbia course, twice.'

'Well, now; seein' how I likes the animal, about how much do ye'h set him at?' says I. — 'Well! can't part with the nag nohow; seems as if he knowed a nigger, and understands the business right up.'

'But, you see, I'se got a bit of nigger property here what ye'h don't pick up every day for the Memphis trade,' says I, looking at the feller, who played his part right up to the hilt.

'Well, I don't mind strikin' a trade,' says Tom: 'but you see my nag's worth a little risin' a thousand dollars.'

'I don't doubt that, stranger,' says I: 'but ye'h sees this 'ar piece of property o' mine is worth more 'an twelve hundred. You don't come across such a looking chap every day. There's a spec. in him, in any market down south,' says I; and I puts my hands on the nigger and makes him show out, just as if Tom and me was striking for a trade. So Tom examines him, as if he was green in nigger business, and he and me strangers just come from t'other side of moon shadows.

'Well, now,' says Tom, 'it's mighty likely property, and seeing it's you, jist name a trade.'

'Put down the nag and two hundred dollars, and I'll sign the bill of sale, for a swap.' And Tom plants down the dimes, and takes the nigger. When Tom gets him to Savannah, he plunks him into jail, and keeps him locked up in a cell until he is ready to start south. I promises the nigger half of the spiles; but I slips an X

Ten dollars. into his hand, and promises him the rest when he gets back-when he does! And ye see how Tom just tryced him up to the cross and put thirty-nine to his bare skin when he talked about being free, in Savannah; and gagged him when he got his Ingin up. Warn't that doing the thing up slick, fellers?" exclaimed Romescos, chuckling over the sport.

"It warn't nothing else. That's what I calls catching a nigger in his own trap," said one. "That's sarvin' him right; I go for sellin' all niggers and Ingins," said another. "Free niggers have no souls, and are impediments to personal rights in a free country," said a third.

"Ye'h see, there's such an infernal lot of loose corners about our business, that it takes a feller what has got a big head to do all the things smooth, in a legal way; and it's so profitable all round that it kind o' tempts a feller, once in a while, to do things he don't feel just right in; but then a glass of old monongahela brings ye'h all straight in yer feelins again, a'ter a few minutes," said Romescos.

"It's an amusing business; a man's got to have nerve and maxim, if he wants to make a fortune at it. But-now, gentlemen, we'll take another round," said Graspum, stopping short. "Anthony, tell us how you work it when you want to run a free nigger down Maryland way."

"There ain't no trouble about that," replied Romescos, quickly. "You see," he continued, squinting his eye, and holding his glass between his face and the light. "Shut out all hope first, and then prime legal gentlemen along the road, and yer sartin to make safe business. I has chaps what keeps their eye on all the free bits, and makes good fellers with 'em; niggers think they'r the right stripe friends; and then they gives 'em jobs once in a while, and tobacco, and whiskey. So when I gets all fixed for a run, some on 'm gets the nigger into a sly spot, and then we pounces upon him like a hawk on a chicken-gags him, and screws him up in the chains, head and feet,—boxes him up, too, and drives him like lightning until I meets Tilman at the cross-roads; and then I just has a document

"A forged bill of sale, all ready, which I gives to Till, and he puts his nags in-a pair what can take the road from anything about-and the way he drives, just to make the nigger forget where he's going, and think he's riding in a balloon on his way to glory. Just afore Til. gets to the boat, ye see, he takes the headchains off-so the delicate-hearted passengers won't let their feelins get kind-a out o' sorts. Once in a while the nigger makes a blubber about being free, to the captain,—and if he's fool enough t' take any notice on't then there's a fuss; but that's just the easiest thing to get over, if ye only know the squire, and how to manage him. You must know the pintes of the law, and ye must do the clean thing in the 'tin' way with the squire; and then ye can cut 'em right off by makin' t'other pintes make 'em mean nothing. Once in a while t'll do to make the nigger a criminal, and then there's no trouble in't, 'cos ye can ollers git the swearin' done cheap. Old Captain Smith used to get himself into a scrape a heap o' times by listenin' to free nigger stories, till he gets sick and would kick every nigger what came to him about being free. He takes the law in his hands with a nigger o' mine once, and hands him over to a city policeman as soon as we lands. He didn't understand the thing, ye see, and I jist puts an Ten dollars into the pole's hand, what he takes the hint at. 'Now, ye'll take good care on the feller," says I, giving him a wink. "And he just keeps broad off from the old hard-faced mayor, and runs up to the squire's, who commits him on his own committimus. Then I gets Bob Blanker to stand 'all right' with the squire, who's got all the say in the matter, when it's done so. I cuts like lightenin' on to far down Mississippi, and there gets Sam Slang, just one o' the keenest fellers in that line, about. Sam's a hotel-keeper all at once, and I gets him up afore the Mississippi squire; and as Sam don't think much about the swearin' and the squire ain't particular, so he makes a five: we proves straight off how the crittur's Sam's runaway, gets the dockerment and sends to Bob Blanker, who puts a blinder on the squire's eye, and gets an order to the old jailor, who must give him up, when he sees the squire's order. You see, it's larnin' the secret, that's the thing, and the difference between common law and nigger law; and the way to work the matter so the squire will have it all in his own fingers, and don't let the old judge get a pick. Squire makes it square, hands the nigger over to Bob, Bob puts fifty cuts on his hide, makes him as clever as a kitten, and ships him off down south afore he has time to wink. Then, ye sees, I goes back as independent as a senator from Arkansas, and sues Captain Smith for damages in detainin' the property, and I makes him pay a right round sum, what larns him never to try that agin."

Thus Romescos concludes the details of his nefarious trade, amid cheers and bravos. The party are in ecstasies, evincing a singular merriment at the issue. There is nothing like liberty—liberty to do what you please, to turn freedom into barbarity! They gloat over the privileges of a free country; and, as Romescos recounts each proceeding,—tracing it into the lowest depths of human villainy, they sing songs to right, justice, freedom-they praise the bounties of a great country. How different is the picture below! Beneath this plotting conclave, devising schemes to defraud human nature of its rights, to bring poverty and disgrace upon happy families-all in accordance with the law-are chained in narrow cells poor mortals, hoping for an end to their dreary existence, pining under the weight of pinions dashing their very souls into endless despair. A tale of freedom is being told above, but their chains of death clank in solemn music as the midnight revelry sports with the very agony of their sorrows. Oh! who has made their lives a wanton jest?-can it be the will of heaven, or is it the birthright of a downtrodden race? They look for to-morrow, hope reverberates one happy thought, it may bring some tidings of joy; but again they sink, as that endless gloom rises before them. Hope fades from their feelings, from the bleeding heart for which compassion is dead. The tyrant's heart is of stone; what cares he for their supplications, their cries, their pleadings to heaven; such things have no dollars for him!

Arranging the preliminaries necessary for proceeding with Marston's affairs, they agreed to the plans, received orders from Graspum in reference to their proceedings on the following day, and retired to their homes, singing praises to great good laws, and the freedom of a free country.