Suddenly the sharp trot of a horse was heard at the entrance of the street. This served to create a new sensation in the crowd.
"Samuel Dickson!" cried the people; "At last he has come. Now he will make them listen to reason."
The new arrival was a man of middle age, with a pleasant countenance, delicate and intelligent features, clothed in the dress of a rich farmer, and in those parts was looked up to as a most important individual.
He made his way carefully through the crowd, bowing on either hand, and rather puzzled at the ovation he was receiving.
"Ah! Ah! That is you, massa," said a Negro, with a chuckle, as he approached the inn door.
"Sandy, is that you? Then I suppose the others are inside," he remarked, as he dismounted and handed him the bridle.
"Yes, Massa Samuel, dem all dere."
"I am glad of it," he replied, "for I have come a long way to see them. Look after my horse, he is rather fresh."
Then, bowing once more to the crowd, Samuel Dickson entered the inn, closing the door behind him.
In a large and comfortable room six persons, two women and four men, were seated at one of those copious breakfasts which are never seen to such perfection as in America. Upon benches round the room sat about twenty persons in a humbler station in life, amongst others two coloured young women, who were eating from bowls and plates placed on their knees.