"The property's all safe now," he whispers,
and returns to attend the bidding arrangements.
One by one-mothers, fathers, and single property, old and young, as
may be-are put upon the stand; sold for the various uses of manifest
democracy. Harry,--the thinking property, whose sense-keeping has
betrayed the philosophy of profound democracy,--is a preacher, and,
by the value of his theological capacity, attracts more than
ordinary attention. But his life has been a failure,--a mere
experiment in divinity struggling with the sensitive power of model
democracy. He now seems impatient to know that doom to which the
freedom of an enlightened age has consigned him. One minute some
cheering hope of his getting a good master presents itself in a
familiar face; then it turns away, and with it vanishes his hope.
Another comes forward, but it is merely to view his fine
proportions.
Harry has feelings, and is strongly inclined to cling to the opinion
that those who know his character and talents, will be inclined to
purchase. Will they save him from the cruelties of ordinary
plantation life?
"Now for the preacher!"-Mr. Forshou touches his hat, politely.
"Gentlemen purchasing, and wanting a church can be accommodated with
that article to-morrow. Come, boy, mount up here!" The preaching
article draws his steps reluctantly, gets up, and there stands,--a
black divine: anybody may look at him, anybody may examine him,
anybody may kick him; anybody may buy him, body, soul, and theology.
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