have, through all time, kept up, somehow,
a strange sort of power over the minds of poor, simple fellows, like
Tom. They stir up the soul from its depths, and rouse, as with trumpet
call, courage, energy, and enthusiasm, where before was only the
blackness of despair.

Mr. Haley pulled out of his pocket sundry newspapers, and began
looking over their advertisements, with absorbed interest. He was not a
remarkably fluent reader, and was in the habit of reading in a sort
of recitative half-aloud, by way of calling in his ears to verify the
deductions of his eyes. In this tone he slowly recited the following
paragraph:

"EXECUTOR'S SALE,--NEGROES!--Agreeably to order of court, will be sold,
on Tuesday, February 20, before the Court-house door, in the town of
Washington, Kentucky, the following negroes: Hagar, aged 60; John, aged
30; Ben, aged 21; Saul, aged 25; Albert, aged 14. Sold for the benefit
of the creditors and heirs of the estate of Jesse Blutchford,

"SAMUEL MORRIS, THOMAS FLINT, _Executors_."

"This yer I must look at," said he to Tom, for want of somebody else to
talk to.

"Ye see, I'm going to get up a prime gang to take down with ye, Tom;
it'll make it sociable and pleasant like,--good company will, ye know.
We must drive right to Washington first and foremost, and then I'll clap
you into jail, while I does the business."

Tom received this agreeable intelligence quite meekly; simply wondering,
in his own heart, how many of these doomed men had wives and children,
and whether they would feel as he did about leaving them. It is to be
confessed, too, that the naive, off-hand information that he was to be
thrown into jail by no means produced an agreeable impression on a poor
fellow who had always prided himself on a strictly honest and upright
course of life. Yes, Tom, we must confess it, was rather proud of his
honesty, poor fellow,--not having very much else to be proud of;--if he
had belonged to some of the higher walks of society, he, perhaps, would
never have been reduced to such straits. However, the day wore on,
and the evening saw Haley and Tom comfortably accommodated in
Washington,--the one in a tavern, and the other in a jail.

About eleven o'clock the next day, a mixed throng was gathered around
the court-house steps,--smoking, chewing, spitting, swearing, and
conversing, according to their respective tastes and turns,--waiting
for the auction to commence. The men and women to be sold s