berries, New England rum, and cistern water, all mixed together. The latter region was the more populous neighborhood, and was absolutely packed with thirsty natives, imbibing certain fluids known at the South as "blue ruin," "bust-head," "red-eye," "tangle-foot," "rifle-whiskey," and "devil's dye," at the rate of a "bit" a glass, and of four "bits" for "as much as a man could tote."

I was introduced by the Squire to Tom himself, the illustrious founder of the village. He was a stout, bloated specimen of humanity, with a red, pimpled face, a long grizzly beard, small inflamed eyes, and a nose that might have been mistaken for a peeled beet. His whole appearance showed that he was an habitué of the more fashionable quarter of his village (the groggery), and a liberal imbiber of his own com pounds. He informed me that he did a right smart" business; bought drygoods in "York," "sperrets" in 'Hio, and rum in Bostin'; and he added: "Stranger, I never keeps none but th' clar juice, th' raal, genuwine critter, d-d eff do. Come, take a drink."

I declined, when a bystander, who seemed to know-he could scarcely keep his feet,-overhearing the remark, confirmed it, by saying with a big oath :

"It's so, stranger; Tom do keep th' reg'lar critter, th' clar juice! Thar's no mistake 'bout thet, fur it gits tight itself every cold snap!"

When we arrived, about a hundred men, women, and children were assembled on the cleared plot in front of the store, witnessing a "turkey match." Wishing to avoid the noisy crowd, and being fatigued with our long tramp over the muddy road, my companion and I entered the more reputable portion

of the store in quest of a seat. It was nearly deserted. A lazy yellow boy was stretched at full length on the pine counter which kept customers at an honest distance from the rows of half-filled shelves occupying three sides of the room, and on a low bench in front of him sat a woman and two children. These four were the only persons in the apartment. The woman seemed to be not more than twenty-five, and was dressed in a neat calico gown, and had a tidy appearance. She wore a thin woollen shawl, a clean red and yellow turban, white cotton stockings, and coarse untanned shoes. These last were nearly new, and very clumsy, and, like the rest of her costume, were travel-stained and bespattered with mud. She had evidently walked a long distance that morning.

Her figure was slight and graceful, and her face very beau tiful. She had long, black, glossy hair, straight, regular fea tures, a rich olive complexion, and large, lustrous eyes, which, as she sat opposite the open door, were fixed on the thick, gloomy woods, with an earnest, almost agonized gaze, as if she were reading in its tangled depths the dark, uncertain future that lay before her. Never shall I forget the expression of her face. Never have I seen its look of keen, intense agony, and its full, perfect, utter despair. One of the children was a little girl of eight years, with a sweet, hopeful expression, a clear rosy skin, and brown, wavy hair; and the other, a little mulatto boy, a few years older. They each held one of the woman's hands, and something peculiar in their attitudes made me look closely at them. A thin piece of iron, called by slave traders a "bracelet," encircled their wrists, and fastened their arms to the woman's! They were slaves!

I entered the cabin a few steps in advance of Preston, who

paused in the doorway as he caught sight of the group. The woman did not notice him, but his face turned to a marble white, and his voice trembled with emotion, as he exclaimed: "My God! Phyllis, is this you?"

The woman sprang to her feet, took one step forward, and sank to the floor. Stretching out her shackled arms, bound to the children as they were, she clasped his knees, and cried out: "Oh Master Robert! dear Master Robert, save me! Oh! save me; for the love of the dear children, save me!"

The little boy and girl caught hold of his skirts, and both, crying hard, turned their faces up to his. The younger said:

“Oh! do, massa! take us 'way from dis man; he bery bad, massa. He whip you' little Rosey 'case she couldn't walk all de way-all de way yere, massa!"

แ

The water gathered in Preston's eyes, as he asked:

Why did they sell you, Phyllis? Why didn't I know

of it?"

"Missus went to you, Master Robert, but you warn't to home. Master had to have the money right off. The trader was thar. Master couldn't wait till you come back. Oh! save me, Master Robert! He's takin' me to Orleans, to Orleans! Do save me! Think of the chil'ren, Master Robert. Oh! think of the chil'ren!" and she loosened her hold of his limbs, and wept as if her very heart was breaking.

Preston's words came thick and broken, his frame shook, he almost groaned,'as he said :

"I would to God that I could, Phyllis; but I am in debt— pressed on every side. I could not raise the money to save my soul!"

"Oh my God! what will become of us?" exclaimed the

woman. "Think of little Lule, Master Robert!

They've taken me 'way from her! Oh! what will become of us, Master Robert? what will become of us?"

Preston stood like a man on whom the sentence of death

had fallen. A cold, glassy look came into his eyes, a thick, heavy sweat started from his forehead; his iron limbs seemed giving way under him. Placing my hand on his shoulder, I asked:

"How much is needed, my friend?"

"I don't know," he replied, pressing his hands to his head as if to keep it from bursting. "How much, Phylly?"

"Twelve hundred, Master Robert-they sold us for twelve hundred."

"Well, well, my good woman, don't feel badly. I'll let Master Robert have the money."

The woman stared at me incredulously for a moment; then, while the children came and clung to me as if I were an old friend, she said:

"Oh! bless you, sir! bless you! I will love you, sir! The children will forever love you for it."

A struggle seemed to be going on in Preston's mind. He was silent for some moments; then, in a slow, undecided voice, he said:

"It would not be right; I can't take it, Kirke. I owe you now. I'm in debt elsewhere. A judgment has been got against me. My crops have turned out poorly. I've been to Virginia for money, and can't get a dollar. It would not be honest. I can't take it."

No words can picture the look on the woman's face, as she cried:

"Oh! do take it, Master Robert! Do take it. I'll work. I'll make it. I can make it very soon, Master Robert. Oh! do take it!

แ

"How much is the judgment?" I asked.

'Only six hundred; but old

has it, and he has no

mercy. He'll have the money at once, or sell everything-the negroes-everything!" and he choked down the heavy groan which half escaped his lips.

"Have you no produce at home?"

"About a thousand barrels of rosin. But the river is low; I can't get it down."

"Well, that's worth five hundred dollars where it is. Any cotton?"

"Only eleven bales-low middling."

"That's three hundred more. Consider it ours, and draw at ninety days for the whole, judgment and all."

The woman had risen during this conversation, and stood with her eyes riveted on our faces, as if her eternal destiny hung on our words. When I made the last remark, she staggered toward me and fell, as if dead, at my feet. I brought water from the stream hard by, and we soon restored her to herself. Preston then lifted her from the floor, and placing her tenderly on the bench, said, turning to me:

"You cannot understand how much you have done for me. Words are weak-they cannot tell you. I will pay you out of the next crop. Meanwhile I will re-draw, and keep it afloat.'

"Do as you like about that. Where is your owner, Phyllis?"

"Outside, dear master. You'll know him. He's more of us pore creatures with him."