A week before a certain New-year’s-day, Mr. Moyese sat musing over some presents that had just been sent home, and which he was on the morrow to distribute amongst his nephews and nieces.  “Why, bless me!” he suddenly exclaimed, turning them over, “why, I’ve entirely forgotten George!  That will never do; I must get something for him.  What shall it be?  He has a fine watch, and I gave him a pin and ring last year.  I really don’t know what will be suitable,” and he sat for some time rubbing his chin, apparently in deep deliberation.  “Yes, I’ll do it!” he exclaimed, starting up; “I’ll do it!  He has been a faithful fellow, and deserves it.  I’ll make him a present of himself!  Now, how strange it is I never thought of that before—­it’s just the thing;—­how surprised and delighted he will be!” and the old gentleman laughed a low, gentle, happy laugh, that had in it so little of selfish pleasure, that had you only heard him you must have loved him for it.

Having made up his mind to surprise George in this agreeable manner, Mr. Moyese immediately wrote a note, which he despatched to his lawyers, Messrs. Ketchum and Lee, desiring them to make out a set of free papers for his boy George, and to have them ready for delivery on the morrow, as it was his custom to give his presents two or three days in advance of the coming year.

The note found Mr. Ketchum deep in a disputed will case, upon the decision of which depended the freedom of some half-dozen slaves, who had been emancipated by the will of their late master; by which piece of posthumous benevolence his heirs had been greatly irritated, and were in consequence endeavouring to prove him insane.

“Look at that, Lee,” said he, tossing the note to his partner; “if that old Moyese isn’t the most curious specimen of humanity in all New Orleans!  He is going to give away clear fifteen hundred dollars as a New-year’s gift!”

“To whom?” asked Mr. Lee.

“He has sent me orders,” replied Mr. Ketchum, “to make out a set of free papers for his boy George.”

“Well, I can’t say that I see so much in that,” said Lee; “how can he expect to keep him?  George is almost as white as you or I, and has the manners and appearance of a gentleman.  He might walk off any day without the least fear of detection.”

“Very true,” rejoined Ketchum, “but I don’t think he would do it.  He is very much attached to the old gentleman, and no doubt would remain with him as long as the old man lives.  But I rather think the heirs would have to whistle for him after Moyese was put under ground.  However,” concluded Mr. Ketchum, “they won’t have much opportunity to dispute the matter, as he will be a free man, no doubt, before he is forty-eight hours older.”