Just at that moment could
be seen a stout man with his face fitted with the small-pox, making
his way up to the above-mentioned gentleman.
"How do you do, my dear sir? this is Mr. Wilson, I believe,"
said the short man, at the same time taking from his mouth a large
chew of tobacco, and throwing it down on the ship's deck.
"You have the advantage of me, sir," replied the tall man.
"Why, don't you know me? My name is Jennings; I sold you a splendid negro
woman some years ago."
"Yes, yes," answered the Natchez man. "I remember you now,
for the woman died in a few months, and I never got the worth
of my money out of her."
"I could not help that," returned the slave-trader; "she was as sound
as a roach when I sold her to you."
"Oh, yes," replied the parson, "I know she was; but now I want a young girl,
fit for house use,--one that will do to wait on a lady."
"I am your man," said Jennings, "just follow me," continued he,
"and I will show you the fairest little critter you ever saw."
And the two passed to the stern of the boat to where the trader had
between fifty and sixty slaves, the greater portion being women.
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