"How do you do, my dear sir? this is Mr. Wilson, I believe," said
the short man, at the same time taking from his mouth a large chew
of tobacco, and throwing it down on the ship's deck.
"You have the advantage of me, sir," replied the tall man.
"Why, don't you know me? My name is Jennings; I sold you a splendid
negro woman some years ago."
"Yes, yes," answered the Natchez man. "I remember you now, for the
woman died in a few months, and I never got the worth of my money
out of her."
"I could not help that," returned the slave-trader; "she was as
sound as a roach when I sold her to you."
"Oh, yes," replied the parson, "I know she was; but now I want a
young girl, fit for house use,--one that will do to wait on a
lady."
"I am your man," said Jennings, "just follow me," continued he,
"and I will show you the fairest little critter you ever saw." And
the two passed to the stern of the boat to where the trader had
between fifty and sixty slaves, the greater portion being women.
"There," said Jennings, as a beautiful young woman shrunk back with
modesty. "There, sir, is the very gal that was made for you. If
she had been made to your order, she could not have suited you
better."
"Indeed, sir, is not that young woman white?" inquired the parson.
"Oh, no, sir; she is no whiter than you see!"
"But is she a slave?" asked the preacher.
"Yes," said the trader, "I bought her in Richmond, and she comes
from an excellent family. She was raised by Squire Miller, and her
mistress was one of the most pious ladies in that city, I may say;
she was the salt of the earth, as the ministers say.
Pages:
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98