"There, sir, is the very gal that was made for you.

If she had been made to your order, she could not have suited you better." "Indeed, sir, is not that young woman white ?" inquired the parson.
"Oh, no, sir; she is no whiter than you see!" "But is she a slave ?" asked the preacher.
"Yes," said the trader, "I bought her in Richmond, and she comes from an excellent family.

She was raised by Squire Miller, and her mistress was one of the most pious ladies in that city, I may say; she was the salt of the earth, as the ministers say." "But she resembles in some respect Agnes, the woman I bought from you," said Mr.Wilson.As he said the name of Agnes, the young woman started as if she had been struck.

Her pulse seemed to quicken, but her face alternately flushed and turned pale, and tears trembled upon her eyelids.

It was a name she had heard her mother mention, and it brought to her memory those days,--those happy days, when she was so loved and caressed.