Yes, Tom, we must confess it, was rather proud of his honesty, poor fellow,--not having very much else to be proud of;--if he had belonged to some of the higher walks of society, he, perhaps, would never have been reduced to such straits.

However, the day wore on, and the evening saw Haley and Tom comfortably accommodated in Washington,--the one in a tavern, and the other in a jail.
About eleven o'clock the next day, a mixed throng was gathered around the court-house steps,--smoking, chewing, spitting, swearing, and conversing, according to their respective tastes and turns,--waiting for the auction to commence.

The men and women to be sold sat in a group apart, talking in a low tone to each other.

The woman who had been advertised by the name of Hagar was a regular African in feature and figure.

She might have been sixty, but was older than that by hard work and disease, was partially blind, and somewhat crippled with rheumatism.
By her side stood her only remaining son, Albert, a bright-looking little fellow of fourteen years.