ll you?"

"That he didn't care for his life."

"No more do I, sar," said the negro, turning on his heel with a proud,
almost defiant gesture, and starting to go.

"A moment, Jim. You are very imprudent; never say these things to any
other mortal; promise me that."

"You'se bery good, massa, bery good. Scipio say you's true, and he'm
allers right. I ortent to hab said what I hab; but sumhow, sar, dat news
brought it all up _har_" (laying his hand on his breast), "and it wud
come out."

The tears filled his eyes as he said this, and turning away without
another word, he disappeared among the trees.

I was almost stunned by this strange revelation, but the more I
reflected on it, the more probable it appeared. Now too, that my
thoughts were turned in that direction, I called to mind a certain
resemblance between the colonel and the negro that I had not heeded
before. Though one was a high-bred Southern gentleman, claiming an old
and proud descent, and the other a poor African slave, they had some
striking peculiarities which might indicate a common origin. The
likeness was not in their features, for Jim's face was of the
unmistakable negro type, and his skin of a hue so dark that it seemed
impossible he could be the son of a white man (I afterward learned that
his mother was a black of the deepest dye), but it was in their form and
general bearing. They had the same closely-knit and sinewy frame, the
same erect, elastic step, the same rare blending of good-natured ease
and dignity--to which I have already alluded as characteristic of the
Colonel--and in the wild burst of passion that accompanied the negro's
disclosure of their relationship, I saw the same fierce, unbridled
temper, whose outbreaks I had witnessed in my host.

What a strange fate was theirs! Two brothers--the one the owner of three
hundred slaves, and the first man of his district--the other, a bonded
menial, and so poor that the very bread he ate, and the clothes he wore,
were another's!

I passed the remainder of the afternoon in my room, and did not again
meet my host until the family assembled at the tea-table. Jim then
occupied his accustomed seat behind the Colonel's chair, and that
gentleman was in more than his usual spirits, though Madam P----, I
thought, wore a sad and absent look.

The conversation rambled over a wide range of subjects, and was carried
on mainly by the Colonel and myself; but toward the close of the meal
the lady said