of virtuous decision, apparently considering himself a
second Wilberforce.

The subject appeared to interest the gentleman deeply; for while Mr.
Shelby was thoughtfully peeling an orange, Haley broke out afresh, with
becoming diffidence, but as if actually driven by the force of truth to
say a few words more.

"It don't look well, now, for a feller to be praisin' himself; but I say
it jest because it's the truth. I believe I'm reckoned to bring in about
the finest droves of niggers that is brought in,--at least, I've been
told so; if I have once, I reckon I have a hundred times,--all in good
case,--fat and likely, and I lose as few as any man in the business. And
I lays it all to my management, sir; and humanity, sir, I may say, is
the great pillar of _my_ management."

Mr. Shelby did not know what to say, and so he said, "Indeed!"

"Now, I've been laughed at for my notions, sir, and I've been talked to.
They an't pop'lar, and they an't common; but I stuck to 'em, sir; I've
stuck to 'em, and realized well on 'em; yes, sir, they have paid their
passage, I may say," and the trader laughed at his joke.

There was something so piquant and original in these elucidations of
humanity, that Mr. Shelby could not help laughing in company. Perhaps
you laugh too, dear reader; but you know humanity comes out in a variety
of strange forms now-a-days, and there is no end to the odd things that
humane people will say and do.

Mr. Shelby's laugh encouraged the trader to proceed.

"It's strange, now, but I never could beat this into people's heads.
Now, there was Tom Loker, my old partner, down in Natchez; he was a
clever fellow, Tom was, only the very devil with niggers,--on principle
't was, you see, for a better hearted feller never broke bread; 't was
his _system_, sir. I used to talk to Tom. 'Why, Tom,' I used to say,
'when your gals takes on and cry, what's the use o' crackin on' em over
the head, and knockin' on 'em round? It's ridiculous,' says I, 'and
don't do no sort o' good. Why, I don't see no harm in their cryin','
says I; 'it's natur,' says I, 'and if natur can't blow off one way, it
will another. Besides, Tom,' says I, 'it jest spiles your gals; they get
sickly, and down in the mouth; and sometimes they gets ugly,--particular
yallow gals do,--and it's the devil and all gettin' on 'em broke in.
Now,' says I, 'why can't you kinder coax 'em up, and speak 'em fair?
Depend on it, Tom, a little humanity, thrown in along,