Late in the afternoon of a chilly day in February, two gentlemen
were sitting alone over their wine, in a well-furnished dining parlor,
in the town of P——, in Kentucky. There were no servants present,
and the gentlemen, with chairs closely approaching, seemed to be
discussing some subject with great earnestness.
For convenience sake, we have said, hitherto, two gentlemen. One of
the parties, however, when critically examined, did not seem, strictly
speaking, to come under the species. He was a short, thick-set man,
with coarse, commonplace features, and that swaggering air of pretension
which marks a low man who is trying to elbow his way upward in the world.
He was much over-dressed, in a gaudy vest of many colors, a blue
neckerchief, bedropped gayly with yellow spots, and arranged with a
flaunting tie, quite in keeping with the general air of the man. His
hands, large and coarse, were plentifully bedecked with rings; and he
wore a heavy gold watch-chain, with a bundle of seals of portentous size.
And a great variety of colors, attached to it,—which, in the ardor
of conversation, he was in the habit of flourishing and jingling with
evident satisfaction. His conversation was in free and easy defiance of
Murray’s Grammar,[1] and was garnished at convenient intervals with various
profane expressions, which not even the desire to be graphic in our
Account shall induce us to transcribe. His companion, Mr. Shelby, had
the appearance of a gentleman; and the arrangements of the house, and
the general air of the housekeeping, indicated easy, and even opulent
circumstances. As we before stated, the two were in the midst of
An earnest conversation. "That is the way I should arrange the
matter," said Mr. Shelby. "I can’t make trade that way—I positively
can’t, Mr. Shelby," said the other, holding up a glass of wine
between his eye and the light. "Why, the fact is, Haley, Tom is
An uncommon fellow; he is certainly worth that sum anywhere,—steady, honest,
capable, manages my whole farm like a clock." "You mean honest, as niggers
go," said Haley, helping himself to a glass of brandy. "No; I
mean, really, Tom is a good, steady, sensible, pious fellow. He got
Religion at a camp-meeting, four years ago; and I believe he really
did get it. I’ve trusted him, since then, with everything I have,—money,
house, horses,—and let him come and go round the country; and I always
found him true and square in everything." "Some folks don’t believe there
is pious niggers Shelby," said Haley, with a candid flourish of his
Hand, "but I do. I had a fellow, now, in this yer last lot
I took to Orleans—’t was as good as a meetin’ now, really, to hear
that critter pray; and he was quite gentle and quiet like. He fetched
me a good sum, too, for I bought him cheap of a man that was
’bliged to sell out; so I realized six hundred on him.
Yes, I consider religion a valeyable thing in a nigger, when it’s
the genuine article, and no mistake." "Well, Tom’s got the real article,
if ever a fellow had," rejoined the other. "Why, last fall, I let
him go to Cincinnati alone, to do business for me, and bring home
Five hundred dollars. 'Tom,’ says I to him, 'I trust you, because I
think you’re a Christian—I know you wouldn’t cheat.’ Tom comes back, sure
enough; I knew he would. Some low fellows, they say, said to him—'Tom,
why don’t you make tracks for Canada?’ 'Ah, master trusted me, and I
Couldn’t,’—they told me about it. I am sorry to part with Tom, I
must say. You ought to let him cover the whole balance of the
debt; and you would, Haley, if you had any conscience." "Well, I’ve
got just as much conscience as any man in business can afford to
Keep,—just a little, you know, to swear by, as ’t were," said the
trader, jocularly; "and then, I’m ready to do anything in reason to
’blige friends; but this yer, you see, is a leetle too hard on
a fellow—a leetle too hard." The trader sighed contemplatively, and poured
out some more brandy.
"Well, then, Haley, how will you trade?" said Mr. Shelby, after an
uneasy interval of silence. "Well, haven’t you a boy or gal that
you could throw in with Tom?" "Hum!—none that I could well spare; to
tell the truth, it’s only hard necessity makes me willing to sell
At all. I don’t like parting with any of my hands, that’s a fact."