es ready for market. Among
the forty slaves that the trader had on this occasion, were some whose
appearance indicated that they had seen some years and had gone through
considerable service. Their gray hair and whiskers at once pronounced
them to be above the ages set down in the trader's advertisement.
Pompey had long been with Jennings, and understood his business well,
and if he did not take delight in the discharge of his duty, he did it
at least with a degree of alacrity, so that he might receive the
approbation of his master.

Pomp, as he was usually called by the trader, was of real negro blood,
and would often say, when alluding to himself, "Dis nigger am no
counterfeit, he is de ginuine artikle. Dis chile is none of your
haf-and-haf, dere is no bogus about him."

Pompey was of low stature, round face, and, like most of his race, had
a set of teeth, which, for whiteness and beauty, could not be
surpassed; his eyes were large, lips thick, and hair short and woolly.
Pompey had been with Jennings so long, and had seen so much of buying
and selling of his fellow-creatures, that he appeared perfectly
indifferent to the heart-rending scenes which daily occurred in his
presence. Such is the force of habit:--

"Vice is a monster of such frightful mien,
That to be hated, needs but to be seen;
But seen too oft, familiar with Its face,
We first endure, then pity, then embrace."

It was on the second day of the steamer's voyage, that Pompey selected
five of the oldest slaves, took them into a room by themselves, and
commenced preparing them for the market.

"Now," said he, addressing himself to the company, "I is de chap dat is
to get you ready for de Orleans market, so dat you will bring marser a
good price. How old is you?" addressing himself to a man not less than
forty.

"If I live to see next sweet-potato-digging time, I shall be either
forty or forty-five, I don't know which."

"Dat may be," replied Pompey; "but now you is only thirty years
old,--dat's what marser says you is to be."

"I know I is more den dat," responded the man.

"I can't help nuffin' about dat," returned Pompey; "but when you get
into de market and any one ax you how old you is, and you tell um you
is forty or forty-five, marser will tie you up and cut you all to
pieces. But if you tell urn dat you is only thirty, den he won't. Now
remember dat you is thirty years old and no more."

"Well den, I guess I will only be thirty wh