was a celebrated dog-trainer and negro-hunter, “was great in doing the savager portion of negro business.”  This, Romescos contended, did not require so much cunning as his branch of the business-which was to find “loose places,” where doubtful whites see out remnants of the Indian race, and free negroes could be found easy objects of prey; to lay plots, do the “sharp,” carry out plans for running all free rubbish down south, where they would sell for something.

“True! it’s all true as sunshine,” says Romescos; “we understand Mr. Graspum inside and out.  But ye ain’t paid a dime to get me out of any scrape.  I was larned to nigger business afore I got into the ’tarnal thing; and when I just gits me eye on a nigger what nobody don’t own, I comes the sly over him-puts him through a course of nigger diplomacy.  The way he goes down to the Mississippi is a caution to nigger property!”

He has enlisted their attention, all eyes are set upon him, every voice calls out to know his process.  He begs they will drink round; they fill their glasses, and demand that he will continue the interest of his story.

“My plans are worth a fortune to those who follow the business,” he says, giving his glass a twirl as he sets it upon the table, and commences—­

“Born ’cute, you see; trade comes natural.  Afore a free ’un don’t know it, I has him bonded and tucked off for eight or nine hundred dollars, slap-up, cash and all.  And then, ye sees, it’s worth somethin’ in knowin’ who to sell such criturs too-so that the brute don’t git a chance to talk about it without getting his back troubled.  And then, it requires as much knowin’ as a senator’s got just to fix things as smooth so nobody won’t know it; and just like ye can jingle the coin in yer pocket, for the nigger, what everybody’s wonderin’ where he can be gone to.  I tell ye what, it takes some stameny to keep the price of a prime feller in your pocket, and wonder along with the rest where the rascal can be.  If you’d just see Bob Osmand doe it up, you’d think his face was made for a methodist deacon in camp meeting-time.  The way he comes it when he wants to prove a free nigger’s a runaway, would beat all the disciples of Blackstone between here and old Kentuck.  And then, Bob’s any sort of a gentleman, what you don’t get in town every day, and wouldn’t make a bad senator, if he’d bin in Congress when the compromise was settled upon,—­’cos he can reason right into just nothin’ at all.  Ye see it ain’t the feelings that makes a feller a gentleman in our business, it’s knowing the human natur o’ things; how to be a statesman, when ye meets the like, how to be a gentleman, and talk polite things, and sich like; how to be a jolly fellow, an’ put the tall sayings into the things of life; and when ye gets among the lawyers, to know all about the pintes of the law, and how to cut off the corners, so they’ll think ye’re bin a parish judge.  And then, when ye comes before the squire, just to talk dignity to him-tell him where