His purchaser was a cotton broker from New Orleans, a warm-hearted, kind old man, who took a fancy to the boy’s looks, and pitied him for his unfortunate separation from his mother.  After paying for his new purchase, he drew him aside, and said, in a kind tone, “Come, my little man, stop crying; my boys never cry.  If you behave yourself you shall have fine times with me.  Stop crying now, and come with me; I am going to buy you a new suit of clothes.”

“I don’t want new clothes—­I want my mammy,” exclaimed the child, with a fresh burst of grief.

“Oh dear me!” said the fussy old gentleman, “why can’t you stop—­I don’t want to hear you cry.  Here,” continued he, fumbling in his pocket—­“here’s a picayune.”

“Will that buy mother back?” said the child brightening up.

“No, no, my little man, not quite—­I wish it would.  I’d purchase the old woman; but I can’t—­I’m not able to spare the money.”

“Then I don’t want it,” cried the boy, throwing the money on the ground.  “If it won’t buy mammy, I don’t want it.  I want my mammy, and nothing else.”

At length, by much kind language, and by the prospect of many fabulous events to occur hereafter, invented at the moment by the old gentleman, the boy was coaxed into a more quiescent state, and trudged along in the rear of Mr. Moyese—­that was the name of his purchaser—­to be fitted with the new suit of clothes.

The next morning they started by the stage for Augusta.  George, seated on the box with the driver, found much to amuse him; and the driver’s merry chat and great admiration of George’s new and gaily-bedizened suit, went a great way towards reconciling that young gentleman to his new situation.

In a few days they arrived in New Orleans.  There, under the kind care of Mr. Moyese, he began to exhibit great signs of intelligence.  The atmosphere into which he was now thrown, the kindness of which he was hourly the recipient, called into vigour abilities that would have been stifled for ever beneath the blighting influences that surrounded him under his former master.  The old gentleman had him taught to read and write, and his aptness was such as to highly gratify the kind old soul.

In course of time, the temporary absence of an out-door clerk caused George’s services to be required at the office for a few days, as errand-boy.  Here he made himself so useful as to induce Mr. Moyese to keep him there permanently.  After this he went through all the grades from errand-boy up to chief-clerk, which post he filled to the full satisfaction of his employer.  His manners and person improved with his circumstances; and at the time he occupied the chief-clerk’s desk, no one would have suspected him to be a slave, and few who did not know his history would have dreamed that he had a drop of African blood in his veins.  He was unremitting in his attention to the duties of his station, and gained, by his assiduity and amiable deportment, the highest regard of his employer.