" The girl, cringing beneath the ruffian's hand,
places the necessary receptacle at his feet.
The gentleman is offended,--very much offended. He thinks it beneath
the expansion of his mind-to be standing on aristocratic nonsense!
"Spit boxes and nigger property ain't the thing to stand on about
haristocrats; just put down the dimes. Three bright niggers 'll do:
turn 'em out."
"Three of my best niggers!" ejaculates the Colonel.
"Nothin' shorter, Colonel."
"Remember, gentlemen, the market price of such property. The demand
for cotton has made niggers worth their weight in gold, for any
purpose. Take the prosperity of our country into consideration,
gentlemen; remember the worth of prime men. The tip men of the
market are worth 1200 dollars."
"Might as well lay that kind a' financerin aside, Colonel. What's
the use of living in a free country, where every man has a right to
make a penny when he can, and talk so? Now, 'pears to me t'aint no
use a' mincing the matter; we might a' leaked ye in for as many
thousands as hundreds. Seein' how ye was a good customer, we saved
ye on a small shot. Better put the niggers out: ownin' such a lot,
ye won't feel it! Give us three prime chaps; none a' yer old
sawbones what ye puts up at auction when ther' worked down to
nothin'."
M'Carstrow's powers of reasoning are quite limited; and, finding
himself in one of those strange situations southern gentlemen so
often get into, and which not unfrequently prove as perplexing as
the workings of the peculiar institution itself, he seeks relief by
giving an order for three prime fellows.
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