“We don’t want so much of this,” interrupts a voice in the crowd.

“Rather anxious to buy the feller,” Mr. Forshou replies, affecting much indifference.  He will say a few words more.  “Think the matter over, upon strict principles of political economy, and you’ll find, gentlemen, he’s just the article for big planters.  I am happy to see the calm and serene faces of three of my friends of the clergy present; will they not take an interest for a fellow-worker in a righteous cause?” The vender smiles, seems inclined to jocularity, to which the gentlemen in black are unwilling to submit.  They have not been moving among dealers, and examining a piece of property here and there, with any sinecure motive.  They view the vender’s remarks as exceedingly offensive, return a look of indignation, and slowly, as if with wounded piety, walk away.  The gentlemen in black are most sensitive when any comparison is made between them and a black brother.  How horible shocked they seem, as, with white neckerchiefs so modest, they look back as they merge from the mart into the street!

It is a question whether these sensitive divines were shocked at the affectation and cold indifference manifested by legitimate dealers, or at the vender’s very impertinent remarks.  We will not charge aught against our brethren of the clergy:  no, we will leave the question open to the reader.  We love them as good men who might labour for a better cause; we will leave them valiant defenders of southern chivalry, southern generosity, southern affability, and southern injustice.  To be offended at so small an affair as selling a brother clergyman,—­to make the insinuation that they are not humane, cause of insult,—­is, indeed, the very essence of absurdity.

The vender makes a few side-motions with his thumbs, winks to several of his customers, and gives a significant nod, as the gentlemen in black pass out of the insulting establishment.  “Well, gentlemen, I’m sorry if I’ve offended anybody; but there’s a deep-rooted principle in what I’ve said, nor do I think it christian for the clergy to clear out in that shape.  However, God bless ’em; let ’em go on their way rejoicing.  Here’s the boy-he turns and puts his hand kindly on Harry’s shoulder-and his wench, and his young uns,—­a minister and family, put down in the invoice as genuine prime.  Our worthy sheriff’s a good judge of deacons-the sheriff-high functionary-acknowledges the compliment by respectfully nodding-and my opinion is that the boy’ll make a good bishop yet:  he only wants an apron and a fair showing.”  He touches Harry under the chin, laughing heartily the while.

“Yes, master,” replies Harry-he has little of the negro accent-quieting his feelings; “what I larn is all from the Bible, while master slept.  Sell my old woman and little ones with me; my heart is in their welfare-”

“Don’t trifle with the poor fellow’s feelings; put him up and sell him to the best advantage.  There’s nobody here that wants a preacher and family.  It’s only depreciating the value of the property to sell it in the lot,” says Graspum, in a firm voice.  He has been standing as unmoved as a stoic, seeing nothing but property in the wretch of a clergyman, whose natural affections, pictured in his imploring looks, might have touched some tender chord of his feelings.