That gentleman, drawing
his right hand across his mouth, relieves it of the virtueless
deposit, and supplies it with a fresh quid.
"Sit down, neighbour Grabguy," he says, placing a chair beside him.
They both sit down; the negro attendant stands a few feet behind
them: the boy may walk a line backward and forward. "Say the word!
You know I'll have a deal o' trouble afore breaking the feller in,"
Grabguy exclaims, impatiently.
Graspum is invoking his philosophy. He will gauge the point of value
according to the coming prospect and Mr. Grabguy's wants. "Well,
now, seeing it's you, and taking the large amount of negro property
I have sold to your distinguished father into consideration-I hope
to sell forty thousand niggers yet, before I die-he should bring six
hundred." Graspum lays his left hand modestly on Mr. Grabguy's right
arm, as that gentleman rather starts with surprise. "Take the
extraordinary qualities into consideration, my friend; he's got a
head what's worth two hundred dollars more nor a common nigger,--that
is, if you be going to turn it into knowledge profit. But that
wasn't just what I was going to say" (Graspum becomes profound, as
he spreads himself back in his chair). "I was going to say, I'd let
you-you mustn't whisper it, though-have him for five hundred and
twenty; and he's as cheap at that as bull-dogs at five dollars."
Grabguy shakes his head: he thinks the price rather beyond his mark.
He, however, has no objection to chalking on the figure; and as both
are good democrats, they will split the difference.
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