Preston turned silently away, as if disdaining to waste words on such a subject; and I said to the trader: 'Mr. Larkin, I've told you I've no time to lose. Name your price at once, or I'll not buy the woman at all.' 'Well, jest as ye say, Mr. Kirke. But ye see she's a rare 'un; would bring two thousand in Orleans, sure's a gun.' 'Pshaw! you know better than that; but, name your price.' 'What, fur the hull, or the 'ooman alone?' 'Either way; I've no particular use for the children, but I'll buy them if cheap.' 'Oh! _do_ buy us,' cried the little girl, taking hold of my coat; 'do buy us--please do, good massa.' 'Shet up, ye young whelp,' said the trader, raising his whip. The little thing slunk back affrighted, and commenced sobbing, but said no more. 'Well, Mr. Kirke, the lot cost me sixteen fifty, hard rocks, and 'twas dirt cheap, 'cause the 'ooman alone'll bring more'n thet. I couldn't hev bought har fur thet, but har owner wus hard up. Ye see he's Gin'ral----, down ter Newbern, one of yer rig'lar 'ristocrats, the raal ole-fashioned sort--keeps a big plantation, house in town; fine wines; fine wimmin; fast hosses; and goes it mighty strong. Well, he's allers a trifle under--ev'ry year 'bout two thousand short; and ev'ry year I buy a couple or so of nigs on him ter make it up. He's a pertickerler friend o' mine, ye see; he thinks a heap o' me--he does. Well, when I gets 'long thar t'other day, he says ter me, says he: 'Lark,' (he allers calls me Lark; thet's the name I goes by 'mong my intimate 'quaintance), well, says he; 'Lark, thar's Phylly. I want ye ter take har. She's the likeliest gal in the world--good old Virginny blood, father one of the raal old stock. Ye knows she's right, good ev'ry way, prays like a camp meetin', and virtuous ter kill; thar ain't none round har thet's up to har at thet--tried ter cum round har myself, but couldn't git nigher'n a rod--won't hev but one man, and'll stick ter him like death; jest the gal fur one o' them New Orleans bloods as wants one thet'll be true ter 'em. Do ye take, Lark?' says he. 'Well, I do, says I, and I knows just the feller fur har; one of yer raal high-flyers--rich's a Jew--twenty thousand a year--lives like a prince--got one or two on 'em now; but he says to me when I comes off, 'Lark,' says he, 'find me a gal, raather pale, tidy, hard's a nut, and not bigger'n a cotton bale.' Wall, says I, 'I will,' and, Gin'ral, Phylly's the gal! She'll hev good times, live like a queen, hev wines, dresses, hosses, operas, and all them sort o' things--ye knows them ar fellers doan't stand fur trifles.' 'Yes, I knows, Lark,' says the Gin'ral, 'and bein' it's so, ye kin take har, Lark; but I wouldn't sell har ter ary nother man livin'--if I would, d----n me. Ye kin hev har, Lark, but ye must take the young 'uns; she's got two, ye knows, and it hain't Christian-like ter sell 'em apart.' 'D----n the young 'uns, Gin'ral,' says I,' I karn't do nary a thing with them.