earing between them a pine table. On this table were arranged about
forty little pyramids of whitish-looking powder, and in their midst
stood a bottle containing some clear liquid, like water. Dr. Rutherford
seated himself behind it, robed in the black gown he had used in the
dissecting-room, and crowned by a conical head-piece about two feet
high, manufactured by Edward and himself, and which they had completed
by placing on the pinnacle thereof a human skull. The effect of this
picturesque costume was heightened by two large red circles around the
doctor's eyes--whether obtained from the juice of the pokeberry or the
inkstand on Edward's desk need not be determined.

In front of the table stood the negroes, men, women and children. There
was the preacher, decked in the clerical livery of a standing collar and
white cravat, but, perhaps in deference to the day of the week, these
were modified by the secular apparel of a yellow cotton shirt and
homespun pantaloons, attached to a pair of old "galluses," which had
been mended with twine, and pieced with leather, and lengthened with
string, till, if any of the original remained, none could tell the color
thereof nor what they had been in the day of their youth. The effect was
not harmonious. There was Mammy, with her low wrinkled forehead, and
white turban, and toothless gums, and skin of shining blackness, which
testified that her material wants were not neglected. There was Wash, a
great, stalwart negro, who ordinarily seemed able to cope with any ten
men you might meet, now looking so subdued and dispirited, and of a
complexion so ashy, that he really appeared old and shrunken and weak.
There was William Wirt, the ploughboy, affected by a chronic grin which
not even the solemnity of this occasion could dissipate, but the
character of which seemed changed by the awestruck eyes that rolled
above the heavy red lips and huge white teeth. There was Apollo--in
social and domestic circles known as 'Poller--there was Apollo, his hair
standing about his head in little black tufts or horns wrapped with
cotton cord to make it grow, one brawny black shoulder protruding from a
rent in his yellow cotton shirt, his pantaloons hanging loosely around
his hips, and bagging around that wonderful foot which did not suggest
his name, unless his sponsors in baptism were of a very satirical turn.
There were Martha, and Susan, and Minerva, and Cinderella, and
Chesterfield, and Pitt, and a great