“Yes, Boss!” replies Enoch, one of the negroes; “Mas’r ollers good t’ e niggers, gin him bacon free times a week-sometimes mo’ den dat.”  Several voices chime in to affirm what Enoch says.

“Ah, very good.  Few planters in that district give their negroes bacon; and an all corn-fed nigger won’t last two years on a sugar plantation,” remarks one of the gentlemen dealers, as he smokes his cigar with great nonchalance.

While these quaint appendancies of the trade are proceeding, Romescos and Graspum make their appearance.  They have come to forestall opinion, to make a few side-winded remarks.  They are ready to enter upon the disgusting business of examining property more carefully, more scrupulously, more in private.  The honourable sheriff again joins the party.  He orders that every accommodation be afforded the gentlemen in their examinations of the property.  Men, women, and children-sorrowing property-are made to stand erect; to gesticulate their arms; to expand their chests, to jump about like jackals, and to perform sundry antics pleasing to the gentlemen lookers-on.  This is all very free, very democratic, very gentlemanly in the way of trade,—­very necessary to test the ingredient of the valuable square inches of the property.  What matters all this! the honourable sheriff holds it no dishonour; modest gentlemen never blush at it; the coarse dealer makes it his study,—­he trades in human nature; the happy democrat thinks it should have a co-fellowship with southern hospitality-so long and loudly boasted.

Those little necessary displays over, the honourable sheriff invites his distinguished friends to “have a cigar round;” having satisfied their taste in gymnastarising the property.  Romescos, however, thinks he has not quite satisfied his feelings; he is very dogged on nigger flesh.  The other gentlemen may smoke their cigars; Mr. Romescos thinks he will enjoy the exercise of his skill in testing the tenacity of negroes’ chests; which he does by administering heavy blows, which make them groan out now and then.  Groans, however, don’t amount to much; they are only nigger groans.  Again Mr. Romescos applies the full force of his hands upon their ears; then he will just pull them systematically.  “Nice property!” he says, telling the forbearing creatures not to mind the pain.

Messrs. Graspum and Romescos will make a close inspection of a few pieces.  Here, several men and women are led into a basement cell, under the veranda, and stript most rudely.  No discrimination is permitted.  Happy freedom!  What a boon is liberty!  Mr. Romescos views their nice firm bodies, and their ebony black skins, with great skill and precaution; his object is to prove the disposition of the articles,—­strong evidence being absence of scars.  He lays his bony fingers on their left shoulders-they being compelled to stand in a recumbent position-tracing their bodies to the hips and thighs.  Here the process ends.