'No, no, Mr. Kirke; I karn't do it. I'd like ter 'blige ye, and I need money like th' devil; but I karn't leave Hallet in th' lurch. 'Twouldn't be far dealin' 'tween man an' man. He trusts me ter do it, an' I'm in with him. I _must_ act honest.' 'How _in_ with him?' 'Why, he an' ole Roye ar tergether. The' find th' money fur my bis'ness--done it fur fifteen yar. The' git th' biggest sheer, but I karn't help myself, I went inter cotton, like a d--d fool, 'bout a yar ago, an' lost all I hed--every red cent; an' now I shud be on my beam ends ef it warn't fur them.' 'Then Hallet has made his money dealing in negroes!' 'Yas, a right smart pile, in thet, an' cotton. He got me inter th' d--d staple. I hed nigh on ter sixty thousan' then--hard rocks; but I lost it all--every dollar--at one slap; though I reckon _he_ managed, somehow, ter get out.' 'Yes, of course, _he_ got out, and saddled the loss upon you. Were you such a fool as not to see that?' 'P'raps he did; but he covered his trail. He's smart; ye karn't track _him_. But it makes no odds; I _hev_ ter keep in with him. I couldn't do a 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?'