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In the Wrong Paradise, and Other Stories

In the Wrong Paradise, and Other Stories

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Chapter 1 No.1

Word Count: 2470    |    Released on: 01/12/2017

een the Cla

fluttered feebly in the warm air, and finally dropped on my recumb

o the pages of Ixtlilxochitl. He was a literary character for a planter, had been educated at Oxford (where I made his acquaintance), and

the pleasant Southern garden, where the fountain flashed and fel

affair in the usually quiet town of Clayville. Listen to this;" and I read alou

his seat till rounding the corner by the Clayville Bank, when his wheels came into collision with that edifice, and our gallant townsman was violently shot out. He is now lying in a very precarious condition. This may relieve Tom Widlake of the duty of shooti

y kind of place," I said. "Do yo

ely; "it is one of our instituti

Greeks used to say, or 'go heel

rmed man. The local bullies know it, and they have some scruple about shooting

s Mexican historian, a

eing one of your instit

roes to be sold that very day by public auction in C

He was gradually emancipating his own servants, as I knew, and was even

be good enough to saddle thre

low, Peter, a plantation humourist, well taught in all the then unpublished lore of "Uncle Remus." Peter

Peter?" said Moore, when the

eplied Peter, who then mounted and follow

ly fragrance of honeysuckle filled the air, and the wild white roses were in perfect blossom. Here and there an aloe reminded me that we were not at home, and dwarf palms and bayonet palmettoes, with the small pointed leaf of the "live oak," combined to make the

slave-market. In the open air, in the middle of the place, a long table was set. The crowd gathered round this, and presented types of various sorts of citizens. The common "mean white" was spitting and staring-a man fallen so low that he had no nigger to wallop, and was thus even more abject, because he had no natural place and functions in local society, than the slaves themselves. The local drunkard was uttering sagacities to which no mortal attended. Two or three speculators were bidding on commission, and there were a few planters, some of them mounted, and a mixed multitude of tradesme

h of surprise under his breath, though he rarely swore. Then he turned his horse's head again towards the auctioneer. That merry tradesman was extolling the merits of nearly his last lot. "A very remarkable specimen, gentlemen! Admirers of the antique cannot dispense with this curious nigger-very old

howled some on

his f

into the

eligible nigger? With a few more rags

a bad but unmistakable likeness of my friend Moore, worked over, so to speak, with a loaded brush and heavily glazed with old Bourbon whisky. Aft

the friendly suggestion of Judge Lee an

hen the broker to whom I have r

ur says more than ten dollars for this lot? His extreme age and historical reminisce

Moore shouted from hor

ist?" cried a man who stood near. He was a big, dirty-looking bully, at least half drun

Irus of old in the courtyard of Odysseus, Laertes' son. "On his neck, beneath the ear, he smote him, and crushed in the bones; and the red blood gushed up thro

bully to the edge of the fountain that played in the corner of the squa

ich the public took in this more dramatic interlude. The broker, it is t

sir, and there is no other of

and do them well. When Squire Moore has settled with Dick Bligh he will desert the path

s was considerable, and was obviously

oore was in the saddle again, and

lars for this once despised but now appreciat

nt nodd

s bid," said

" cried

oker n

ix

nt nodd

dly up to three hund

by every draggled and sunburnt woman, and the drinking-bar had disgorged every

Moore's hatred of oppression, and felt convinced that he merely wished at any sacri

us view of the case as I did, and was n

ay die,

e; the nigger's wel

bourhood of the table-much to the inconvenience of the "gallery"-and whispered to his agent. The conference lasted some minu

d," said Moore,

sitting, nodding here; I likes my ease on a warm day; so just you reckon that

thousand four hundred dollars. All this while the poor negro, whose limbs no longer supported him, crouched in a heap on the table, turning his haggard eye alternately on Moore and on the erect and motionless

dollars bid," cried the auct

ed up his hands, and thrust them deep down between his coa

, without receiving any answer except Semitic app

is down, and he has withdrawn his bid. There

e auctioneer slowly, look

saacs, who now was bounding like the gad-

nd and limb, going, going, a shameful sacrifice, for a po

with a sharp,

ed after the noise, like thunde

ing a "short drink" just in time to see

negro in the care of Pete

red a trap to carry our valuable bargain home in-"I wo

in this yer pasteboard box,'" showing one which had held Turkish tobacco. "When I saw that Hebrew Jew wouldn't stir his pencil, I jes'

u are a good boy, but yo

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