desirous of having their prison the centre of
amusement. They act plays twice a week, and as far as close imitation
of what they have seen and heard, and broad grimace, they are
admirable; but they are, half the time, ignorant of the meaning of the
words they utter.--The gate-ways and century-boxes are plaistered over
with play-bills, announcing--OTHELLO, for the first time, by Mr.
_Robinson_--DESDEMONA, by Mr. _Jones_. I seldom failed to attend these
exhibitions, and must confess that I never before or since, or perhaps
ever shall laugh so heartily as at these troglodyte dramas. Their
acting was assuredly the most diverting beyond all comparison, or
example, I ever saw. They would cut so many negroish capers in
tragedy, grin and distort their countenances in such a variety of
inhuman expressions, while they kept their bodies either stiff as so
many stakes, or in a monkeyish wriggle, and ever and anon such a
baboon stare at Desdemona, whose face, neck and hands, were covered
with chalk and red paint, to make _him_ look like a beautiful white
lady--was altogether, considering that they themselves were very
serious, the most ludicrous exhibition of two legged ridiculousness I
ever witnessed. In the midst of my loud applauses, I could not, when
my sore sides would allow me to articulate, help exclaiming--O!
Shakespeare! Shakespeare!--O! Garrick! Garrick!--what would not I give
(an indigent prisoner) could I raise you from the dead, that you might
see the black consequences of your own transcendent geniuses!--When
Garrick rubbed himself over with burnt cork to make himself look like
a Moor, or with lamp-black to resemble Mungo, it did pretty well; but
for a negro man to cover his forehead, neck and hands with chalk, and
his cheeks with vermillion, to make him look like an English, or
American beauty, was too much. Had I been going up the ladder to be
hanged, I should have laughed at this sight; for to all this
outrageous grimace, was added a fantastic habiliment, and an odour
from Desdemona and company, that associated the ideas of the skunk or
the polecat. I presume that their august majesties, the emperor and
empress of Hayti, have some means of destroying this association of
ideas, so revolting to Americans.

After all, this may be in us a disgust grounded more in prejudice than
nature. What we call delicacy is a refinement of civilization; and of
course a departure from nature. See how the brutes enjoy rolling and
wall