ranger with a careless
yawn. Then walking up to the landlord, he desired him to furnish him
with a private apartment, as he had some writing to do immediately.

The landlord was all obsequious, and a relay of about seven negroes, old
and young, male and female, little and big, were soon whizzing about,
like a covey of partridges, bustling, hurrying, treading on each other's
toes, and tumbling over each other, in their zeal to get Mas'r's room
ready, while he seated himself easily on a chair in the middle of the
room, and entered into conversation with the man who sat next to him.

The manufacturer, Mr. Wilson, from the time of the entrance of
the stranger, had regarded him with an air of disturbed and uneasy
curiosity. He seemed to himself to have met and been acquainted with him
somewhere, but he could not recollect. Every few moments, when the man
spoke, or moved, or smiled, he would start and fix his eyes on him, and
then suddenly withdraw them, as the bright, dark eyes met his with such
unconcerned coolness. At last, a sudden recollection seemed to flash
upon him, for he stared at the stranger with such an air of blank
amazement and alarm, that he walked up to him.

"Mr. Wilson, I think," said he, in a tone of recognition, and extending
his hand. "I beg your pardon, I didn't recollect you before. I see you
remember me,--Mr. Butler, of Oaklands, Shelby County."

"Ye--yes--yes, sir," said Mr. Wilson, like one speaking in a dream.

Just then a negro boy entered, and announced that Mas'r's room was
ready.

"Jim, see to the trunks," said the gentleman, negligently; then
addressing himself to Mr. Wilson, he added--"I should like to have a few
moments' conversation with you on business, in my room, if you please."

Mr. Wilson followed him, as one who walks in his sleep; and they
proceeded to a large upper chamber, where a new-made fire was crackling,
and various servants flying about, putting finishing touches to the
arrangements.

When all was done, and the servants departed, the young man deliberately
locked the door, and putting the key in his pocket, faced about, and
folding his arms on his bosom, looked Mr. Wilson full in the face.

"George!" said Mr. Wilson.

"Yes, George," said the young man.

"I couldn't have thought it!"

"I am pretty well disguised, I fancy," said the young man, with a smile.
"A little walnut bark has made my yellow skin a genteel brown, and I've
dyed my hair black; so you see I don