Bad Hugh

"That makes three hundred and fifty," he said to himself. "I know he

can't raise that amount of ready money, and as he is too infernal proud

to be sued, I'm sure of Rocket or Lulu, it matters but little which,"

and with a look upon his face which made it positively hideous, the

scheming Harney closed his books, and sat down to calculate the best

means of managing the rather unmanageable Hugh!

It was dark when 'Lina reached home, but the silk looked well by

firelight, better even than in the light of day, and 'Lina would have

been quite happy but for her mother's reproaches and an occasional

twinge as she wondered what Hugh would say. He had not yet returned, and

numerous were Mrs. Worthington's surmises as to what was keeping him so

late. A glance backward for an hour or so will let us into the secret.

It was the day when a number of negroes were to be sold in the

courthouse. There was no trouble in disposing of them all, save one, a

white-haired old man, whom they called Uncle Sam.

With tottering steps the old man took his place, while his dim eyes

wandered wistfully over the faces around him congregated, as if seeking

for their owner. But none was found who cared for Uncle Sam.

"Won't nobody bid for Sam? I fetched a thousan' dollars onct," and the

feeble voice trembled as it asked this question.

"What will become of him if he is not sold?" Hugh asked of a bystander,

who replied, "Go back to the old place to be kicked and cuffed by the

minions of the new proprietor, Harney. You know Harney, of Frankfort?"

Yes, Hugh did know Harney as one who was constantly adding to his

already large possessions houses and lands and negroes without limit,

caring little that they came to him laden with the widow's curse and the

orphan's tears. This was Harney, and Hugh always felt exasperated

whenever he thought of him. Advancing a step or two he came nearer to

the negro, who took comfort at once from the expression of his face, and

stretching out his shaking hand he said, beseechingly: "You, mas'r, you buy old Sam, 'case it 'ill be lonesome and cold in de

cabin at home when they all is gone. Please, mas'r."

"What can you do?" was Hugh's query, to which the truthful negro

answered: "Nothin' much, 'cept to set in the chimbly corner eatin' corn bread and

bacon--or, yes," and an expression of reverence and awe stole over the

wrinkled face, as in a low tone he added, "I can pray for young mas'r,

and I will, only buy me, please."

Hugh had not much faith in praying negroes, but something in old Sam

struck him as sincere. His prayers might do good, and be needed

somebody's, sadly. But what should he offer, when fifteen dollars was

all he had in the world, and was it his duty to encumber himself with a

piece of useless property? Visions of the Golden Haired and Adah both

arose up before him. They would say it was right. They would tell him to

buy old Sam, and that settled the point with him.