_Walk._ Ha, ha, ha. Well, doctor, this is rather a green boy. Well, mer feller, are you sound?
_Walk._ Open your mouth and let me see your teeth. I allers judge a nigger’s age by his teeth, same as I dose a hoss. Ah! pretty good set of grinders. Have you got a good appetite?
_Walk._ Get out on the floor and dance; I want to see if you are supple.
_Sam._ I don’t like to dance; I is got religion.
_Walk._ Oh, ho! you’ve got religion, have you? That’s so much the better. I likes to deal in the gospel. I think he’ll suit me. Now, mer gal, what’s your name?
_Sally._ I don’t know, sir; but I heard once dat I was born at sweet pertater diggin’ time.
_Walk._ Ha, ha, ha. Don’t know how old you are! Do you know who made you?
_Sally._ I hev heard who it was in de Bible dat made me, but I dun forget de gentman’s name.
_Walk._ Ha, ha, ha. Well, doctor, this is the greenest lot of niggers I’ve seen for some time. Well, what do you ask for them?
_Dr. Gaines._ You may have Sam for $1000, and Sally for $900. They are worth all I ask for them. You know I never banter, Mr. Walker. There they are; you can take them at that price, or let them alone, just as you please.
_Walk._ Well, doctor, I reckon I’ll take ’em; but it’s all they are worth. I’ll put the handcuffs on ’em, and then I’ll pay you. I likes to go accordin’ to Scripter. Scripter says ef eatin’ meat will offend your brother, you must quit it; and I say, ef leavin’ your slaves without the handcuffs will make ’em run away, you must put the handcuffs on ’em. Now, Sam, don’t you and Sally cry. I am of a tender heart, and it allers makes me feel bad to see people cryin’. Don’t cry, and the first place I get to, I’ll buy each of you a great big _ginger cake_,—that I will. Now, Mr. Pinchen, I wish you were going down the river. I’d like to have your company; for I allers likes the company of preachers.
_Mr. Pinchen._ Well, Mr. Walker, I would be much pleased to go down the river with you, but it’s too early for me. I expect to go to Natchez in four or five weeks, to attend a camp-meetin’, and if you were going down then, I’d like it. What kind of niggers sells best in the Orleans market, Mr. Walker?
_Walk._ Why, field hands. Did you think of goin’ in the trade?