find _him_, I don't
send a bullet through his body; and I'll be warrant it shall hinder his
stealin' any more children."

"Steal children!" repeated I. "Has one of your negroes been stolen?"

"One of my niggers, man! My son, my only son! Her child!" continued he
pointing to his wife. "Our boy, the only one remaining to us out of
five, whom the fever carried off before our eyes. As bold and smart a
boy as any in the back woods! Here we set ourselves down in the
wilderness, worked day and night, went through toil and danger, hunger
and thirst, heat and cold. And for what? Here we are alone, deserted,
childless; with nothin' left for us but to pray and cry, to curse and
groan. No help; all in vain. I shall go out of my mind, I expect. If he
were dead!--if he were lyin' under the hillock yonder beside his
brothers, I would say nothing. _He_ gave, and He has a right to take
away! But, Almighty God!"---And the man uttered a cry so frightful, so
heartrending, that the knives and forks fell from our hands, and a
number of negro women and children came rushing in to see what was the
matter. We gazed at him in silence.

"God only knows," continued he, and his head sank upon his breast; then
suddenly starting up, he drank off glass after glass of brandy, as fast
as he could pour it out.

"And how and when did this horrible theft occur?" asked we.

"The woman can tell you about it," was the answer.

The woman had left the table, and now sat sobbing and weeping upon the
bed. It was really a heartbreaking scene. The doctor got up, and led her
to the table. We waited till she became more composed, anxiously
expecting her account of this horrible calamity.

"It was four weeks yesterday," she began; "Mister Clarke was in the
forest; I was in the fields, looking after the people, who were
gathering in the maize. I had been there some time, and by the sun it
was already pretty near eleven; but it was as fine a morning as ever was
seen on the Mississippi, and the niggers don't work well if there's not
somebody to look after them--so I remained. At last it was time to get
the people's dinner ready, and I left the field. I don't know what it
was, but I had scarcely turned towards the house, when it seemed as if
somebody called to me to run as fast as I could; a sort of fear and
uneasiness came over me, and I ran all the way to the house. When I got
there I saw little Cesy, our black boy, sitting on the threshold, and
playing all alon