As soon as Mr.Winston saw his face fully, he recognized him as his old friend.

The hair had grown grey, and the form was also a trifle bent, but he would have known him amongst a thousand.

Springing forward, he grasped his hand, exclaiming, "My dear old friend, don't you know me ?" Mr.
Ellis shaded his eyes with his hand, and looked at him intently for a few moments, but seemed no wiser from his scrutiny.

The tears started to Mr.
Winston's eyes as he said, "Many a kind word I'm indebted to you for--I am George Winston--don't you remember little George that used to live on the Carter estate ?" "Why, bless me! it can't be that you are the little fellow that used to go home with me sometimes to Savanah, and that was sold to go to New Orleans ?" "Yes, the same boy; I've been through a variety of changes since then." "I should think you had," smilingly replied Mr.Ellis; "and, judging from appearances, very favourable ones! Why, I took you for a white man--and you are a white man, as far as complexion is concerned.

Laws, child!" he continued, laying his hand familiarly on Winston's shoulders, "how you have changed--I should never have known you! The last time I saw you, you were quite a shaver, running about in a long tow shirt, and regarding a hat and shoes as articles of luxury far beyond your reach.