The Continental Monthly, Vol III, Issue VI, June, 1863 | Page 9

thing, ef I didn't.'
'Yes, you could. Come North. I'll give you honest work to do.'
'You're a gentleman, Mr. Kirke, an' I'm 'bliged ter ye; but I karn't leave yere. I've got a wife an' chil'ren, an' the' wouldn't live 'mong ye abolitionists, nohow.'
'You have a wife and children?'
'Yas'; a wife, an' two as likely young 'uns as ye ever seed--boy 'bout seven, an' gal 'bout twelve.'
'Well, Larkin, suppose your little girl was upon that auction block; suppose some villain had hired me to aid in debauching her; suppose you, her father, should come to me and plead with me not to do it; suppose I should tell you what you have told me, and then--should go out and buy your child; what would you do? Would you not curse me with your very last breath?'
He seated himself, and hung down his head, but made no reply.
'Answer me, like the honest man you are.'
'Wall, I reckon I shud.'
'Selma is to marry my adopted son. She is as dear to me as your child is to you. Can you do to her, what you would curse me for doing to your child? Look me in the face. Don't flinch--answer me!'
I rose, and stood before him. In a few moments he also rose, and, looking me squarely in the eye--there was a tear in his--he brought his hand down upon mine with a concussion that might have been heard a mile off, and said:
'No, I'm d--d ter h--ef I kin.'
'You are a splendid, noble fellow, Larkin.'
'Ye're 'bout th' fust man thet ever said so, Mr. Kirke. Ye told me suthin' like thet nigh on ter twelve yar ago. I hain't forgot it yit, an' I never shill.'
'You're rough on the outside, Larkin, but sound at the core--sound as a nut. I wish the world had more like you. Leave this wretched work!'
'I'd like ter, but I karn't. What kin a feller do, with neither money nor friends?'
'Get into some honest business. I know you can. I'll help you--Joe will help you. We'll talk things over to-night, and I know Joe will rig out something for you.'
He remained seated for a while, saying nothing; then he rose, and, the moisture dimming his eyes, said:
'I reckon ye're not over pious, Mr. Kirke, an' I know ye'd stand a hand at a rough an' tumble; but d--d ef thet ain't th' sort o' religion I like. Come, sir; ef I stay yere, ye'll make a 'ooman on me.'
As we passed into the parlor, I said to Joe, who was seated there with Selma:
'Give Larkin your hand, Joe; he's a glorious fellow.'
'My heart is in it, Larkin,' said the young man, very cordially. 'It would have come hard to draw a bead on you.'
'I knows it would, Joe, an' I wus ter blame; but I never could stand a bluff.'
We passed out together to the auction stand. Selma and her brother ascended the block, while Larkin and I mingled with the buyers, who had collected in even larger numbers than before. The auctioneer brought down his hammer:
'Attention, gentlemen! The sale has begun. I offer you again the girl, Lucy Selma. You've h'ard the description, and (glancing at Joe, and smiling) you know the conditions of the sale. A thousand dollars is bid for the girl, Lucy Selma; do I hear any more? Talk quick, gentlemen; I shan't dwell on this lot; so speak up, if you've anything to say. One thousand once--one thousand twice--one thousand third and last call. Do I hear any more?' A pause of a moment. 'Last call, gentlemen. Going--g-o-i-n-g--go--'
The word was unfinished; the hammer was descending, when a voice called out:
'Two thousand!'
'Whose bid is that?' cried Joe, striding across the bench, the glare of a hyena in his eyes.
'Mine, sir!' said the man, with a look of sudden surprise. His face was shaded by a broad-brimmed Panama hat, and his hair and whiskers were dyed, but there was no mistaking his large, eagle nose, his sharp, pointed chin, and his rat-trap of a mouth. It was Hallet! Springing upon a bench near by, I cried out:
'John Hallet, withdraw that bid, or your time has come! I warn you. You cannot leave this place alive!'
He gave me a quick, startled look--the look of a thief caught in the act--but said nothing.
'Who is he?' cried a dozen voices.
'A Yankee nigger-trader! A man that seduced and murdered the woman who should have been his wife; that cast out and starved his own child, and now would debauch this poor girl, who is to marry his only son!'
'Wall, he ar a han'some critter.' ''Bout like th' Yankees gin'rally.' 'Clar him out!' cried several voices.
'If you allow him to bid here, you are as bad as he,' I continued, unintentionally fanning the growing excitement.
'Wall, we woan't.' 'Pitch inter