“You better buy a young nigger, and take him home as a curiosity to show among the Highlands. You can buy a young Sambo for any price, just the same as you would a leg of mutton at the butcher's; put him in a band-box, lug him across, and you'll make a fortune in the North country. But I'd rather buy a young wife, for the young niggers are more roguish than a lot o' snakes, and al'a's eat their heads off afore they're big enough to toddle. They sell gals here for niggers whiter than you are, Manuel; they sell 'em at auction, and then they sell corn to feed 'em on. Carolina's a great region of supersensual sensibility; they give you a wife of any color or beauty, and don't charge you much for her, providing you're the right stripe. What a funny thing it would be to show the Glasgow folks a bright specimen of a bought wife from the renowned State of South Carolina, with genuine aristocratic blood in her veins; yes, a pure descendant of the Huguenots!” said the mate, who was leaning over the rail where Manuel and Tommy were seated, smoking a segar and viewing the beautiful scenery around the harbor. “Ah!” said Manuel, “when I get a wife and live on shore, I don't want to buy one-it might be a dangerous bargain. Might buy the body, but not the soul-that's God's.” CHAPTER VIII. A NEW DISH OF SECESSION. ABOUT a quarter past eight o'clock in the evening, Master George, as he called himself, the little pedantic man, came skipping down the wharf. As soon as he approached the brig, he cried out at the top of his voice, “Captain! Captain!!”