NEGRO LIFE IN AMERICA. Q87 “I gay, all on ye,” he said, retreating a pace or two back, Jook at me—look at me—look me right in the eye—straight, now!” said he, stamping his foot at every pause. As by a fascination, every eye was now directed to the glaring, greenish-grey eye of Simon. | “ Now,” said he, doubling his great, heavy fist into something lik a blacksmith’s hammer, ‘‘ d’ye see this fist? Heft it!” he said, bringing it down on Tom’s hand. ‘“‘ Look at these yer bones! Well, I tell ye this yer fist has got as hard as iron knocking down niggers. I never see the nigger yet I couldn't bring down with one crack,” said he, bringing his fist down so near to the face of Tom that he winked and drew back. “1 don't keep none ’o yer cussed overseers; I does my own overseeing ; and I tell you things is seen to. You's every one on ye got to toe the mark, I tell ye;,quick—straight—the moment I speak. That's the way to keep in with me. You won’t find no soft spot in me, nowhere. So, now, mind yourselves; for 1 don’t show no mercy !” . The women involuntarily drew in their breath, and the whole gang sat down with downcast, dejected faces. Meanwhile, Simon turned on his heel, and marched up to the bar of the boat for a dram. , - «“That’s the way I begins with my niggers,” he said, to a gentlemanly man who had stood by him during his speech. “ It’s my system to begin strong—just let em know what to expec lil a8 “Indeed!” said the stranger, looking upon him with the cumie osity of a naturalist studying some out-of-the-way specimen. ee “Yes, indeed. I’m none ’o yer gentleman planters, with lily fingers, to slop round and be cheated by some old cuss of an over- seer! Just feel of my knuckles, now ; look at my fist. Tell ye, sir, the flesh on’t has come jest like a stone, practising on nig- gers—feel on it.” | The stranger applied his finger to the implement in question, and simply said— “Tis hard enough; and I suppose,” he added, “* practice has made your heart just like it.” “ Why, yes, I may say so,” said Simon, with a hearty laugh. “I reckon ther’s as little soft in me as in any one going. Tell you, nobody comes it over me! Niggers never gets round me neither with squalling nor soft soap—that’s a fact.” “ You have a fine lot there.”’ “Real,” said Simon. “There's that Tom, they tell’d mo he was suthin’ uncommon. I paid a little high for him, teuding him for a driver and a managing chap; only get the notion out he’s larnt by bein’ treated as niggers never ought to be, he'll do prime! The yellow woman I got took in in. I rayther think she’s sickly, — but I shall put her through for what she’s worth; she may last a year or two. I don't go for savin’ niggers. Use up and buy ae