ONE chilly day in February, two gentlemen were sitting in a well-furnished room, in a Kentucky town, discussing some subject with great earnest ness. One of the parties, however, did not seem to be a gentleman when critically examined. He was short and thick-set, with coarse features and a swaggering air; ungrammatical and sometimes profane in his speech. His companion, Mr. Shelby, had the appearance of a gentleman, and the arrangements of the house indicated easy and even opulent circumstances.

  "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.

  "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.

  "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 conic 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.

  "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. I am sorry to part with Tom. 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 the business can afford to keep; but this, yer see, is a leetle too hard on a fellow—a leetle too hard." The trader sighed contemplatively.

  "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. I don't like parting with any of my hands, that's a fact."

  Here the door opened, and a small quadroon boy, between four and five years of age, entered the room.

  "Come here, Jim Crow," said Mr. Shelby. "Now, Jim, show this gentleman how you can dance and sing." The boy commenced one of those wild, grotesque songs common among the negroes, in a rich, clear voice.

  "Bravo!" said Haley.

  "Now, Jim, walk like old Uncle Cudjoe, when he has the rheumatism," said his master.

  Instantly the child assumed the appearance of deformity and distortion, as, with his back humped up, and his master's stick in his hand, he hobbled about the room, his childish face drawn into a doleful pucker, and spitting from right to left, in imitation of an old man.

  "Now, Jim," said his master, "show us how old Elder Robbins leads the psalm." The boy drew his chubby face down to a formidable length, and commenced intoning a psalm tune through his nose, with imperturbable gravity.

  "Bravo! what a young `un !" said Haley. "Tell you what," said he, "fling in that chap, and I'll settle the business!"

  At this moment, the door was pushed gently open, and a young quadroon woman, apparently about twenty-five, entered the room.

  "Well, Eliza?" said her master.

  "I was looking for Harry, please, sir."

  "Well, take him away, then," said Mr. Shelby.

  "By Jupiter," said the trader, "there's an article, now! You might make your fortune on that ar gal in Orleans, any day."

  "I don't want to make my fortune on her," said Mr. Shelby, dryly.

  "Come, how will you trade about the gal?"

  "Mr. Haley, she is not to be sold," said Shelby. "My wife would not part with her for her weight in gold."

  "Av, ay! women always say such things, 'cause they ha'nt no sort of calculation, I reckon."

  "I tell you, Haley, this must not be spoken of, I say no, and I mean no," said Shelby.

  "Well, you'll let me have the boy, though," said the trader.

  "What on earth can you want with the child?" said Shelby.

  "Why, I've got a friend that's going into this yer branch of the business—wants to buy up handsome boys to raise for the market. They fetch a good sum."

  "I would rather not sell him," said Mr. Shelby, thoughtfully, "but—"

  "What do you say?"

  "I'll think the matter over, and talk with my wife. Call up this evening, between six and seven, and you shall have my answer," said Mr. Shelby, and the trader bowed himself out of the apartment.

  Mr. Shelby was a fair average kind of man, good-natured and kindly, and disposed to easy indulgence of those around him, and there had never been a lack of anything which might contribute to the physical comfort of the negroes on, his estate. He had, however, speculated, largely and quite loosely; had involved himself

  Now, it had happened that Eliza had caught enough of the conversation to know that a trader was making offers to her master for somebody.

  She would gladly have stopped at the door to listen, as she came out; but her mistress just then calling, she was obliged to hasten away.

  "Eliza, girl, what ails you to-day?" said her mistress.

  Eliza started. "O, missis!" she said, raising her eyes; then burst into tears.

  "Why, Eliza, child! what ails you?" said her mistress.

  "O! missis, missis," said Eliza, "there's been a trader talking with master in the parlor! Do you suppose mas'r would sell my Harry?" And the poor creature sobbed convulsively.

  "Sell him! No, you foolish girl! You know your master never deals with those Southern traders, and never means to sell any of his servants, as long as they behave well."

  Reassured by her mistress' confident tone, Eliza laughed at her own fears.