—Street in New Orleans.

Enter GEORGE SHELBY, R. 1 E.

  At length my mission of mercy is nearly finished, I have reached my journey's end. I have now but to find the house of Mr. St. Clare, re-purchase old Uncle Tom, and convey him back to his wife and children, in old Kentucky. Some one approaches; he may, perhaps, be able to give me the information I require. I will accost him.

  Pray, sir, can you tell me where Mr. St. Clare dwells? [Crosses to R.

  Where I don't think you'll be in a hurry to seek him.

  And where is that?

  In the grave! [Crosses to R.

  Stay, sir! you may be able to give me some information concerning Mr. St. Clare.

  I beg pardon, sir, I am a lawyer; I can't afford to give anything

  But you would have no objections to selling it?

  Not the slightest.

  What do you value it at?

  Well, say five dollars, that's reasonable.

  There they are. [Gives money.] Now answer me to the best of your ability. Has the death of St. Clare caused his slaves to be sold?

  It has.

  How were they sold?

  At auction—they went dirt cheap.

  How were they bought—all in one lot?

  No, they went to different bidders.

  Was you present at the sale?

  I was.

  Do you remember seeing a negro among them called Tom?

  What, Uncle Tom?

  The same—who bought him?

  A Mr. Legree.

  Where is his plantation?

  Up in Louisiana, on the Red River; but a man never could find it, unless he had been there before.

  Who could I get to direct me there?

  Well, stranger, I don't know of any one just at present,

  The reward shall be ample.

  Enough said, stranger; let's take the steamboat at once. [Exeunt, R. 1 E.]