that brought a cry out of her.

Eliphalet had reflected upon this incident after he had bid the overseer
good-by at Cairo, and had seen that pitiful coffle piled aboard a
steamer for New Orleans. And the result of his reflections was, that
some day he would like to own slaves.

A dome of smoke like a mushroom hung over the city, visible from
far down the river, motionless in the summer air. A long line of
steamboats--white, patient animals--was tethered along the levee, and
the Louisiana presently swung in her bow toward a gap in this line,
where a mass of people was awaiting her arrival. Some invisible force
lifted Eliphalet's eyes to the upper deck, where they rested, as if
by appointment, on the trim figure of the young man in command of the
Louisiana. He was very young for the captain of a large New Orleans
packet. When his lips moved, something happened. Once he raised his
voice, and a negro stevedore rushed frantically aft, as if he had
received the end of a lightning-bolt. Admiration burst from the
passengers, and one man cried out Captain Brent's age--it was
thirty-two.

Eliphalet snapped his teeth together. He was twenty-seven, and his
ambition actually hurt him at such times. After the boat was fast to the
landing stage he remained watching the captain, who was speaking a few
parting words to some passengers of fashion. The body-servants were
taking their luggage to the carriages. Mr. Hopper envied the captain his
free and vigorous speech, his ready jokes, and his hearty laugh. All the
rest he knew for his own--in times to come. The carriages, the trained
servants, the obsequiousness of the humbler passengers. For of such is
the Republic.

Then Eliphalet picked his way across the hot stones of the levee,
pushing hither and thither in the rough crowd of river men; dodging the
mules on the heavy drays, or making way for the carriages of the few
people of importance who arrived on the boat. If any recollections of
a cool, white farmhouse amongst barren New England hills disturbed his
thoughts, this is not recorded. He gained the mouth of a street between
the low houses which crowded on the broad river front. The black mud was
thick under his feet from an overnight shower, and already steaming in
the sun. The brick pavement was lumpy from much travel and near as dirty
as the street. Here, too, were drays blocking the way, and sweaty negro
teamsters swinging cowhides over the mules. The smell of many wares
po