Mr. Onslow turned, and to his surprise beheld the stranger with the opera-glass. “Really, sir,” said Mr. Onslow, “I hope you do not wish to see a man degrade himself merely because he isn’t white like ourselves.” “The point can’t be argued, sir,” said the stranger, putting his glass in his pocket. Then seizing the mulatto by the throat, he thrust him on his knees. “Down, you black hound, and ask this gentleman’s pardon.” To everybody’s surprise, the mulatto’s whole manner changed the minute he saw the stranger; and, sinking on his knees, he crossed his arms on his breast, and, with downcast eyes, said, addressing the tall man, “I ask pardon, sir, for putting my hand on you.” “Wall, that’s enough, nigger! I pardon yer,” said the mollified tall man, returning his bowie-knife to its sheath. “Niggers mus’ know thar places,—that’s all. Ef a nigger knows his place, I’d no more harm him nor I’d harm a val’able hoss.” The mulatto rose and walked away; but with no such show of chagrin as a keen observer might have expected; and the tall man, turning to him of the opera-glass, said, “Sir, ye ’r a high-tone gemmleman; an’ cuss me but I’m proud of yer acquaint. Who mowt it be I kn call yer, sir?” “Vance of New Orleans,” was the reply. “Mr. Vance, I’m yourn. I know’d yer mus’ be from the South. Yer mus’ liquor with me, Mr. Vance. Sir, ye’r a high-tone gemmleman. I’m Kunnle Hyde,—Kunnle Delancy Hyde. Virginia-born, be Gawd! An’ I’m not ashamed ter say it! My ahnces’tors cum over with the caval’yers in King James’s time,—yes, sir-r-r! My father was one of the largest slave-owners in the hull State of Virginia,—yes, sir-r-r! Lost his proputty, every damned cent of it, sir, through a low-lived Yankee judge, sir!” “I could have sworn, Colonel Hyde, there was no Puritan blood in your veins.” “That’s a fak!” said the Colonel, grimly smiling his gratification. Then, throwing his cigar overboard, he remarked: “The Champion’s nowhar, I reckon, by this time. She ain’t in sight no longer. What say yer to a brandy-smash? Or sh’l it be a julep?” “The bar is crowded just now; let’s wait awhile,” replied Vance. Here Mr. Onslow turned away in disgust, and, rejoining the Berwicks, remarked to the lady, “What think you of your gentleman now?” “I shall keep my thoughts respecting him to myself for the present,” she replied. “My wife piques herself on her skill in judging of character by the physiognomy,” said Mr. Berwick, apologetically; “and I see you can’t make her believe she is wrong in this case. She sometimes gets impressions from the very handwriting of a person, and they often turn out wonderfully correct.” “Has Mrs. Berwick the gift of second-sight? Is she a seeress?” “Her faculty does not often show itself in soothsaying,” said Berwick. “But I have a step-mother who now and then has premonitions.” “Do they ever find a fulfilment?” “One time in a hundred, perhaps,” said Berwick. “If I believed in them largely, I should not be on board this boat.”