Every few moments, when the man spoke, or moved, or smiled, he would start and fix his eyes on him, and then suddenly withdraw them, as the bright, dark eyes met his with such unconcerned coolness.

At last, a sudden recollection seemed to flash upon him, for he stared at the stranger with such an air of blank amazement and alarm, that he walked up to him.
"Mr.Wilson, I think," said he, in a tone of recognition, and extending his hand.

"I beg your pardon, I didn't recollect you before.

I see you remember me,--Mr.Butler, of Oaklands, Shelby County." "Ye--yes--yes, sir," said Mr.Wilson, like one speaking in a dream.
Just then a negro boy entered, and announced that Mas'r's room was ready.
"Jim, see to the trunks," said the gentleman, negligently; then addressing himself to Mr.Wilson, he added--"I should like to have a few moments' conversation with you on business, in my room, if you please." Mr.Wilson followed him, as one who walks in his sleep; and they proceeded to a large upper chamber, where a new-made fire was crackling, and various servants flying about, putting finishing touches to the arrangements.
When all was done, and the servants departed, the young man deliberately locked the door, and putting the key in his pocket, faced about, and folding his arms on his bosom, looked Mr.Wilson full in the face.
"George!" said Mr.Wilson.
"Yes, George," said the young man.
"I couldn't have thought it!" "I am pretty well disguised, I fancy," said the young man, with a smile.
"A little walnut bark has made my yellow skin a genteel brown, and I've dyed my hair black; so you see I don't answer to the advertisement at all." "O, George! but this is a dangerous game you are playing.

I could not have advised you to it." "I can do it on my own responsibility," said George, with the same proud smile.
We remark, _en passant_, that George was, by his father's side, of white descent.