He takes a step backwards as Romescos holds the
heavy irons before him.
"You don't come nigger preacher over this ar' child; 't'ant what's
crack'd up to be. I larns niggers to preach different tunes. Don't
spoil prime stock for such nonsense-"
"Master Sheriff will stand answerable for me," interrupts Harry,
turning to that honourable functionary, and claiming his protection.
That gentleman says it is rather out of his line to interfere.
"Not a preacher trick, I say again-Romescos evinces signs of
increasing temper-ya' black theologin. Preachers can't put on such
dignity when they'r property." Preachers of colour must be doubly
humbled: they must be humble before God, humbled before King Cotton,
humbled before the king dealer, who will sell them for their
dollars' worth. Harry must do the bidding of his king master; his
monkey tricks won't shine with such a philosopher as Romescos. The
man of bones, blood, and flesh, can tell him to sell a nigger
preacher to his brother of the ministry, and make it very
profitable. He assures Harry, while holding the shackles in his
hands, that he may put on just as much of the preacher as he can
get, when he gets to the shambles, and hears the fives and tens
bidding on his black hide.
Harry must submit; he does it with pain and reluctance. He is
chained to his wife-a favour suggested by the sheriff-with whom he
can walk the streets of a free country,--but they must be bound in
freedom's iron fellowship.
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