shed its glare upon the freestone walls-for the night was dark-and, as he turned, discovered the fine features of a frank and open countenance, to which the flashing of two great intelligent eyes, a long silvery beard, and a flowing moustache, all shaded by the broad brim of a black felt hat, lent their aid to make impressive.  Closer he muffled his face in the folds of his cloak, and spoke.  “Time!” said he, in a voice musical and clear, “hath worn little on his great mansion; like his heart, it is of good stone.”  The mansion, indeed, was of princely front, with chiselled fa‡ade and great doric windows of deep fluted mouldings, grand in outline.  Now a small hand stole from beneath his cloak, rapped gently upon the carved door of black walnut, and rang the bell.  Soon the door swung open, and a negro in a black coat, white vest, and handkerchief of great stiffness, and nether garments of flashy stripes, politely bowed him into a hall of great splendour.  Rows of statuary stood in alcoves along its sides; the walls dazzled with bright coloured paintings in massive gilt frames; highly coloured and badly blended mythological designs spread along the ceiling:  the figure of a female, with pearly tears gushing from her eyes, as on bended knee she besought mercy of the winged angel perched above her, stood beside the broad stairway at the further end of the hall-strangely emblematical of the many thousand souls the man-seller had made weep in the bitterness of slavery; the softest rugs and costly Turkey carpets, with which its floor was spread, yielded lightly to the footfall, as the jetting lights of a great chandelier shed refulgence over the whole:  indeed, what there lacked of taste was made up with air of opulence.  The negro exhibited some surprise at the stranger’s dress and manner, for he affected ease and indifference.  “Is your master at leisure?” said he.  “Business, or a friend?” inquired the negro, making one of his best bows, and drawing back his left foot.  “Both,” was the quick reply.  “I, boy, am a gentleman!” “I sees dat, mas’r,” rejoined the boy, accompanying his answer with another bow, and requesting the stranger’s name, as he motioned him into a spacious drawing-room on the right, still more gorgeously furnished.

“My name is Major Blank:  your master knows my name:  I would see him quickly!” again spoke the stranger, as the boy promptly disappeared to make the announcement.  The heavy satin-damask curtains, of finest texture, that adorned the windows; the fresco-paintings of the walls; the elaborate gilding that here and there in bad taste relieved the cornices; the massive pictures that hung in gauze-covered frames upon the walls; the chastely designed carpets, and lolls, and rugs, with which the floor gave out its brilliancy; the costly tapestry of the curiously carved furniture that stood here and there about the room; and the soft light of a curiously constructed chandelier, suspended from the left hand of an angel in bronze,