“The man is not dying,” said the slave captain roughly, “but he soon will be if you don’t have him. As for this shaver, he’s about as near being an imp as we can find. Keep away, my lad, or he may bite you.”

This was to me, as I approached the boy, who showed his teeth at me like a vicious dog.

“Going to have ’em, colonel?”

“No; once more, no,” said the colonel, sternly. “I am only waiting for my boat.”

“All right, sir, I don’t go begging. What do you say?” he continued, turning to my father. “Will you buy those two?”

“I?” cried my father, angrily; “buy my fellow-creatures for slaves?”

“Oh, no, of course not,” said the slave captain. And then to himself, but I heard him, “Too good a man, I suppose.—Sorry you won&rs. . . Read More