“O! certainly, I want him for a coachman; ours gets drunk, and my wife will not allow him to drive her.”

“Well, Mr. Jennings, I am very sorry, but the fact is, Mr. Nelson was very angry at Mark, and pledged me not to sell him in the State.  You see he was impudent, and you know that can’t be allowed at all.  I am right sorry, but I dare say I can suit you in one quite as good.  There’s Hannibal, one of Captain Adam’s boys, he is a—­

“No matter, I don’t want him,” interrupted Mr. Jennings; “I am not particular about purchasing this morning.  I only wanted him to please my wife; she will be very much disappointed, as she has his wife washing for her, and she will be in great distress at parting with her husband.”

“Yes, yes, I see!  It’s a pity niggers will take on so.  I am sorry I can’t accommodate Mrs. Jennings.  If you should want a coachman, I should be glad if you would call down, as I have a good stock on hand of strong, healthy boys.”

“Yes, when I want one I will give you a call.  But do you really think that Mr. Nelson would refuse to have him remain even in the State?  I really would like to keep the poor fellow from going down South, if I paid a hundred or two more than he is worth.”

“O! there is no chance for him.  Mr. Nelson was positive in his instructions.  I don’t think you need take the trouble to ask him, as I am almost sure he will refuse.”

“Then I suppose nothing can be done.  Good morning,” said Mr. Jennings.

“Good morning, sir; I am sorry we can’t trade.”

Mr. Jennings went home, and acquainted his wife with the result of his mission.  She was a kind mistress to her slaves, and had seen but little of the horrors of slavery.  To be sure, she had heard of instances of cruelty, but they had made but little impression on her, and had soon been forgotten.  But here was a case which outraged every womanly feeling in her breast, a case of suffering and wrong, occurring to persons in whom she was personally interested, and she was aroused to the wickedness of the system which allowed such oppression.

In the evening Hasty came up to see if anything had been done for her relief.  As she entered the room, the sorrowful expression of Mrs. Jennings’s face brought tears into her eyes, for she felt there was no hope.

“O poor Hasty!” said Mrs. Jennings.

“Don’t say no more, missus, I see what’s comin’.  Poor Mark will go down South.  Seems to me I knowed it would be so from de fust.  O dear! it’ll go nigh breaking me down.  Tears like I can’t stand it no how,” said Hasty, sobbing aloud.

Mrs. Jennings waited till the first burst of bitter grief was over, and then tried to comfort her as well as she was able, but she felt how hard it was to assuage such grief as this.  She spoke to her of the hope of seeing her husband again in this world, and of the certainty at least, if both tried to do the will of God, of meeting in heaven.  But her efforts were unavailing, and her consoling words fell on a heart that would not be comforted.