''An't one o' you Mr. Meminger, the negro-trader from Lexington?'
''My name's Meminger,' said my companion, 'and I sometimes buy niggars. What do you want?'
''I want to sell you a woman,' replied the man.
''Where is she?'
''Up at my house, there.'
''Well, fotch her down, then. You don't suppose I'm going up there for any d—d niggar woman, such a day as this, do you? And be quick about it, for I don't intend to stand here in the cold.'
'The man started back for the house on the run, and kept hallooing and motioning to some one who met him on the way; and he returned to where we stood on the 'pike with as fine, healthy a looking young black girl as I have often seen. She was dressed with a single garment, which hardly covered her; and she carried in her arms a child, apparently about two or three months old, which she had wrapped up in some rags to keep it warm.
''This is the woman,' said the man.
''What do you ask for her?' said Meminger.
''I'll take eight hundred dollars for the mother and child,' said the man.