It's what he is." "And what may that be ?" "Well, he's a nigger! there's the long and short of it.

Nobody here'd object to his working in this place, providing he was a runner, or an errand-boy, or anything that it's right and proper for a nigger to be; but to have him sitting in that office, writing letters for the boss, and going over the books, and superintending the accounts of the fellows, so that he knows just what they get on Saturday nights, and being as fine as a fiddle, is what the boys won't stand; and they swear they'll leave, every man of 'em, unless he has his walking papers,--double-quick too." "Very well; let them.

There are other workmen, good as they, in this city of New York." "Hold on, sir! let me say my say first.

There are seven hundred men working in this place: the most of 'em have worked here a long while.
Good work, good pay.

There ain't a man of 'em but likes Mr.Surrey, and would be sorry to lose the place; so, if they won't bear it, there ain't any that will.