sar."

"How long did you live with your first owner?"

"Twenty years."

"Did you ever run away?"

"No, sar."

"Did you ever strike your master?"

"No, sar."

"Were you ever whipped much?"

"No, sar; I s'pose I didn't deserve it, sar."

"How long did you live with your second master?"

"Ten years, sar."

"Have you a good appetite?"

"Yes, sar."

"Can you eat your allowance?"

"Yes, sar,--when I can get it."

"Where were you employed in Virginia?"

"I worked de tobacker fiel'."

"In the tobacco field, eh?"

"Yes, sar."

"How old did you say you was?"

"Twenty-five, sar, nex' sweet-'tater-diggin' time."

"I am a cotton-planter, and if I buy you, you will have to work in the
cotton-field. My men pick one hundred and fifty pounds a day, and the
women one hundred and forty pounds; and those who fail to perform their
task receive five stripes for each pound that is wanting. Now, do you
think you could keep up with the rest of the hands?"

"I' don't know sar but I 'specs I'd have to."

"How long did you live with your third master?"

"Three years, sar."

"Why, that makes you thirty-three. I thought you told me you were only
twenty-five?"

Aaron now looked first at the planter, then at the trader, and seemed
perfectly bewildered. He had forgotten the lesson given him by Pompey
relative to his age; and the planter's circuitous questions--doubtless
to find out the slave's real age--had thrown the negro off his guard.

"I must see your 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