Scene 2 View in Front of the Great House
Examination of Sam and Big Sally.—Dr. Gaines, Wildmarsh, Mr. Pinchen and Walker present.
Walk. Well, my boy, what’s your name?
Sam. Sam, sir, is my name.
Walk. How old are you, Sam?
Sam. Ef I live to see next corn plantin’ time, I’ll be 27, or 30, or 35, or 40—I don’t know which, sir.
Walk. Ha, ha, ha. Well, doctor, this is rather a green boy. Well, mer feller, are you sound?
Sam. Yes, sir, I spec I is.
Walk. Open your mouth and let me see your teeth. I allers judge a nigger’s age by his teeth, same as I dose a hoss. Ah! pretty good set of grinders. Have you got a good appetite?
Sam. Yes, sir.
Walk. Can you eat your allowance?
Sam. Yes, sir, when I can get it.
Walk. Get out on the floor and dance; I want to see if you are supple.
Sam. I don’t like to dance; I is got religion.
Walk. Oh, ho! you’ve got religion, have you? That’s so much the better. I likes to deal in the gospel. I think he’ll suit me. Now, mer gal, what’s your name?
Sally. I is Big Sally, sir.
Walk. How old are you, Sally?
Sally. I don’t know, sir; but I heard once dat I was born at sweet pertater diggin’ time.
Walk. Ha, ha, ha. Don’t know how old you are! Do you know who made you?
Sally. I hev heard who it was in de Bible dat made me, but I dun forget de gentman’s name.
Walk. Ha, ha, ha. Well, doctor, this is the greenest lot of niggers I’ve seen for some time. Well, what do you ask for them?
Dr. Gaines. You may have Sam for $1000, and Sally for $900. They are worth all I ask for them. You know I never banter, Mr. Walker. There they are; you can take them at that price, or let them alone, just as you please.
Walk. Well, doctor, I reckon I’ll take ’em; but it’s all they are worth. I’ll put the handcuffs on ’em, and then I’ll pay you. I likes to go accordin’ to Scripter. Scripter says ef eatin’ meat will offend your brother, you must quit it; and I say, ef leavin’ your slaves without the handcuffs will make ’em run away, you must put the handcuffs on ’em. Now, Sam, don’t you and Sally cry. I am of a tender heart, and it allers makes me feel bad to see people cryin’. Don’t cry, and the first place I get to, I’ll buy each of you a great big ginger cake,—that I will. Now, Mr. Pinchen, I wish you were going down the river. I’d like to have your company; for I allers likes the company of preachers.
Mr. Pinchen. Well, Mr. Walker, I would be much pleased to go down the river with you, but it’s too early for me. I expect to go to Natchez in four or five weeks, to attend a camp-meetin’, and if you were going down then, I’d like it. What kind of niggers sells best in the Orleans market, Mr. Walker?
Walk. Why, field hands. Did you think of goin’ in the trade?
Mr. P. Oh, no; only it’s a long ways down to Natchez, and I thought I’d just buy five or six niggers, and take ’em down and sell ’em to pay my travellin’ expenses. I only want to clear my way.