George, in passing from the wharf into the bay, met the Captain, who was shaping his course for the brig. He immediately ran up to him, and shook his hands with an appearance of friendship. “Captain, I'm right sorry to hear about your nigger. I was not prepared for such a decision on the part of Mr. Grimshaw, but I'm determined to have him out,” said he. “Well!” said the Captain, “I'm sorry to say, I find things very different from what I anticipated. My steward is imprisoned, for nothing, except that he is a Portuguese, and everybody insists that he's a nigger. Everybody talks very fine, yet nobody can do any thing; and every thing is left to the will of one man.” “Why, Captain, we've the best system in the world for doing business; you'd appreciate it after you understood it! Just come with me, and let me introduce you to my father. If he don't put you right, I'll stand convicted,” said little George. Accepting the invitation, they walked back to the “old man's” counting-room. George had given the Captain such an extended account of his father's business and estates, that the latter had made up his mind to be introduced to an “India Palace' counting-room. Judge of his surprise, then, when George led the way into an old, dirty-looking counting-room, very small and dingy, containing two dilapidated high desks, standing against the wall. They were made of pitch pine, painted and grained, but so scarred and whittled as to have the appearance of long use and abuse. In one corner was an old-fashioned low desk, provided with an ink-stand, sundry pieces of blotting-paper, the pigeon-holes filled with loose invoices, letters, and bills of lading, very promiscuously huddled together; while hanging suspended on a large nail, driven in the side, and exposed to view, was an enormous dust-brush. A venerable-looking subject of some foreign country stood writing at one desk, a little boy at the other, and George's veritable “old man” at the low desk. Here and there around the floor were baskets and papers containing samples of sea-island and upland cotton. George introduced the Captain to his father with the suavity of a courtier. He was a grave-looking man, well dressed, and spoke in a tone that at once enlisted respect. Unlike George, he was a tall, well-formed man, with bland, yet marked features, and very gray hair. He received the Captain in a cold, yet dignified manner-inquired about his voyage, and who he had consigned to, and what steps he had taken to proceed with his business,--all of which the Captain answered according to the circumstances. “What! then you have consigned already, have you?” said little George, with surprise. “Oh yes,” returned the Captain, “I have left my business in the hands of the consul, and shall follow his directions. It's according to my sailing orders. But there's so much difficulty, I shouldn't wonder if I had to leave the port, yet!”