top of his voice.  The names of heads of families are announced one by one; they answer the call promptly.  He continues till he reaches Annette and Nicholas, and here he pauses for a few moments, turning from the paper to them, as if he one minute saw them on the paper and the next on the floor.  “Here, gentlemen,” he ejaculates, in a half guttural voice-something he could not account for touched his conscience at the moment-holding the paper nearer his eye-glass, “there is two bits of property bordering on the sublime.  It dazzles-seems almost too interesting to sell.  It makes a feller’s heart feel as if it warn’t stuck in the right place.”  Mr. Forshou casts another irresistible look at the children; his countenance changes; he says he is very sensitive, and shows it in his blushes.  He might have saved his blushes for the benefit of the State.  The State is careful of its blushes; it has none to sell-none to bestow on a child’s sorrow!

Annette returns his somewhat touching manifestation of remorse with a childlike smile.

“Well!  I reckon how folks is gettin’ tenderish, now a’ days.  Who’d thought the major had such touchy kind a’ feelins?  Anything wrong just about yer goggler?” interrupts Romescos, giving the vender a quizzical look, and a “half-way wink.”  Then, setting his slouch hat on an extra poise, he contorts his face into a dozen grimaces.  “Keep conscience down, and strike up trade,” he says, very coolly, drawing a large piece of tobacco from his breast-pocket and filling his mouth to its utmost capacity.

“Feelings are over all things,” responds the sheriff, who stands by, and will speak for the vender, who is less accustomed to speaking for himself.  “Feelings bring up recollections of things one never thought of before,—­of the happiest days of our happiest home.  ’Tain’t much, no, nothing at all, to sell regular black and coloured property; but there’s a sort of cross-grained mythology about the business when it comes to selling such clear grain as this.”

The vender relieves the honourable sheriff from all further display of sympathy, by saying that he feels the truth of all the honourable and learned gentleman has said, “which has ’most made the inward virtue of his heart come right up.”  He leans over the desk, extends his hand, helps himself to a generous piece of Romescos’ tobacco.

Romescos rejoins in a subdued voice-"He thinks a man what loves dimes like the major cannot be modest in nigger business, because modesty ain’t trade commodity.  It cannot be; the man who thinks of such nonsense should sell out-should go north and join the humane society.  Folks are all saints, he feels sure, down north yander; wouldn’t sell nigger property;—­they only send south right smart preachers to keep up the dignity of the institution; to do the peculiar religion of the very peculiar institution.  No objection to that; nor hain’t no objection to their feelin’ bad about the poor niggers, so long as they like our cash and take our cotton.  That’s where the pin’s drove in; while it hangs they wouldn’t be bad friends with us for the world.”