"Look at that, Lee," said he, tossing the note to his partner; "if that old
Moyese isn't the most curious specimen of humanity in all New Orleans! He
is going to give away clear fifteen hundred dollars as a New-year's gift!"

"To whom?" asked Mr. Lee.

"He has sent me orders," replied Mr. Ketchum, "to make out a set of free
papers for his boy George."

"Well, I can't say that I see so much in that," said Lee; "how can he
expect to keep him? George is almost as white as you or I, and has the
manners and appearance of a gentleman. He might walk off any day without
the least fear of detection."

"Very true," rejoined Ketchum, "but I don't think he would do it. He is
very much attached to the old gentleman, and no doubt would remain with him
as long as the old man lives. But I rather think the heirs would have to
whistle for him after Moyese was put under ground. However," concluded Mr.
Ketchum, "they won't have much opportunity to dispute the matter, as he
will be a free man, no doubt, before he is forty-eight hours older."

A day or two after this, Mr. Moyese entertained all his nephews and nieces
at dinner, and each was gratified with some appropriate gift. The old man
sat happily regarding the group that crowded round him, their faces beaming
with delight. The claim for the seat of honour on Uncle Moyese's knee was
clamorously disputed, and the old gentleman was endeavouring to settle it
to the satisfaction of all parties, when a servant entered, and delivered a
portentous-looking document, tied with red tape. "Oh, the papers--now, my
dears, let uncle go. Gustave, let go your hold of my leg, or I can't get
up. Amy, ring the bell, dear." This operation Mr. Moyese was obliged to