al age--had thrown the negro off his guard.

"I must see you back, so as to know how much you have been whipped,
before I think of buying."

Pompey, who had been standing by during the examination, thought that
his services were now required, and, stepping forth with a degree of
officiousness, said to Aaron,--

"Don't you hear de gemman tell you he wants to 'zamin you. Cum,
unharness yo'seff, ole boy, and don't be standin' dar."

Aaron was soon examined, and pronounced "sound;" yet the conflicting
statement about his age was not satisfactory.

Fortunately for Marion, she was spared the pain of undergoing such an
examination. Mr. Cardney, a teller in one of the banks, had just been
married, and wanted a maid-servant for his wife, and, passing through
the market in the early part of the day, was pleased with the young
slave's appearance, and his dwelling the quadroon found a much better
home than often falls to the lot of a slave sold in the New Orleans
market.

CHAPTER VII. THE SLAVE-HOLDING PARSON

THE Rev. James Wilson was a native of the State of Connecticut, where
he was educated for the ministry in the Methodist persuasion. His father
was a strict follower of John Wesley, and spared no pains in his son's
education, with the hope that he would one day be as renowned as the
leader of his sect. James had scarcely finished his education at New
Haven, when he was invited by an uncle, then on a visit to his father,
to spend a few months at Natchez in Mississippi. Young Wilson accepted
his uncle's invitation, and accompanied him to the South. Few young men,
and especially clergymen, going fresh from college to the South, but are
looked upon as geniuses in a small way, and who are not invited to all
the parties in the neighborhood. Mr. Wilson was not an exception to this
rule. The society into which he was thrown, on his arrival at Natchez,
was too brilliant for him not to be captivated by it, and, as might have
been expected, he succeeded in captivating a plantation with seventy
slaves if not the heart of the lady to whom it belonged.

Added to this, he became a popular preacher, and had a large
congregation with a snug salary. Like other planters, Mr. Wilson
confided the care of his farm to Ned Huckelby, an overseer of high
reputation in his way.

The Poplar Farm, as it was called, was situated in a beautiful valley,
nine miles from Natchez, and near the Mississippi River. The once
unshorn face of natur