'Gentlemen, allow me a few words. This young lady is my sister. I have always supposed--she has always supposed that she was the legitimate child of my father. She was not. My mother bought her when she was very young; gave her jewels--all she had--for her, and adopted her as her own child. The law does not allow a married woman to hold separate property, and Selma is therefore inventoried in my father's estate, and must be sold. Rightfully she belongs to me! She has been delicately and tenderly reared, and is totally unfitted for any of the usual work of slave women. Her value for such purposes is very little. I shall bid a thousand dollars for her, which is more than she is worth for any honest use. If any man bids more, it is HIS LIFE OR MINE _before he leaves the ground!_' A breathless silence fell on the assemblage. It lasted for a few moments, when Gaston called out: 'Come, Joe, this isn't fair. You've no right to interfere with the sale. I came here prepared to go twenty-five hundred for her myself.' In a firm but moderate tone, the young man replied: 'I intend no disrespect to you, Mr. Gaston, or to any gentleman present; but I mean what I say. I shall stand by my words!' 'Come, youngster, none uv yer brow-beatin' yere. It woan't gwo down,' cried a rough voice from among the audience. 'I've come all th' way from Orleans ter buy thet gal; an' buy har I shill!' Quite a commotion followed this speech. It lasted some minutes, and the speaker was the object of considerable attention. 'He's some on th' trigger, ole feller,' cried one. 'He kin hit a turkey's eye at two hundred paces, he kin,' said another. 'He'll burn yer in'ards, shore,' shouted a third. 'Ye'll speak fur warm lodgin's, ef ye bid on thet gal, ye wull,' cried a fourth. 'Come, my friends, ye karn't skeer me,' coolly said the first speaker, mounting one of the rough benches. 'I've h'ard sech talk afore. It doan't turn _me_ a hair. I come yere ter buy thet gal, an' buy har I shill, 'cept some on ye kin gwo higher'n my pile; an' my pile ar _eighty-two hundred dollars_!' He was a tall, stoutly-built man, with bushy gray whiskers and a clear, resolute eye. It was Larkin! Turning to Joe, I exclaimed: 'I understand this. Get the auctioneer to postpone the sale for half an hour for dinner. Take Selly into the house.' 'No. It might as well be over first as last. Let him bid--he's a dead man!' replied Joe coolly, but firmly. 'You're mad, boy. Would you take his life needlessly?' The auctioneer, who overheard these remarks, then said to me: 'I will adjourn the sale, sir;' and, turning to the audience, he cried, drawing out his watch: 'Gentlemen, it is twelve o'clock. The sale is adjourned for an hour, to give you a chance for dinner.' SHYLOCK vs. ANTONIO. OPINION OF THE VICAR.