“Yes, I was; very unlucky. She died with her first child, and the child died, too.”
“Well, that was right hard for you. She was a fine girl. I don’t reckon you lost less than five thousand dollars, when she died.”
“No, sir, not a dollar less.”
“Well, it came right hard upon you—just beginning so.”
“Yes, I was foolish, I suppose, to risk so much on the life of a single woman; but I’ve got a good start again now, for all that. I’ve got two right likely girls; one of them’s got a fine boy, four months old, and the other’s with child—and old Pine Knot’s as hearty as ever.”
“Is he? Hasn’t been sick at all, eh?”
“Yes; he was sick very soon after I bought him of you; but he got well soon.”
“That’s right. I’d rather a nigger would be sick early, after he comes into this country; for he’s bound to be acclimated, sooner or later, and the longer it’s put off, the harder it goes with him.”
The man was a regular negro trader. He told me that he had a partner in Kentucky, and that they owned a farm there, and another one here. His partner bought negroes, as opportunity offered to get them advantageously, and kept them on their Kentucky farm; and he went on occasionally, and brought the surplus to their Louisiana plantation—where he held them for sale.
“So-and-so is very hard upon you,” said another man, to him as he still sat, smoking his cigar, on the gallery, after dinner.