Why, he's been called a preacher in them parts he came from." "And I might use him for a family chaplain, possibly," added the young man, dryly.

"That's quite an idea.

Religion is a remarkably scarce article at our house." "You're joking, now." "How do you know I am?
Didn't you just warrant him for a preacher?
Has he been examined by any synod or council?
Come, hand over your papers." If the trader had not been sure, by a certain good-humored twinkle in the large eye, that all this banter was sure, in the long run, to turn out a cash concern, he might have been somewhat out of patience; as it was, he laid down a greasy pocket-book on the cotton-bales, and began anxiously studying over certain papers in it, the young man standing by, the while, looking down on him with an air of careless, easy drollery.
"Papa, do buy him! it's no matter what you pay," whispered Eva, softly, getting up on a package, and putting her arm around her father's neck.
"You have money enough, I know.

I want him." "What for, pussy?
Are you going to use him for a rattle-box, or a rocking-horse, or what?
"I want to make him happy." "An original reason, certainly." Here the trader handed up a certificate, signed by Mr.Shelby, which the young man took with the tips of his long fingers, and glanced over carelessly.
"A gentlemanly hand," he said, "and well spelt, too.

Well, now, but I'm not sure, after all, about this religion," said he, the old wicked expression returning to his eye; "the country is almost ruined with pious white people; such pious politicians as we have just before elections,--such pious goings on in all departments of church and state, that a fellow does not know who'll cheat him next.