s drugs
to a poor, half-starved class of negroes, who resort to all kinds of
dishonest means to get money to spend at their counters. These places
are nearly all kept by foreigners, whose merciless avarice scruples at
nothing, however mean. They soon become possessed of considerable means,
and through their courtesy and subserviency to the negro-for they are
the only class of whites that will beg his pardon, if they have offended
him-carry on a sort of active rivalry with each other for his custom. It
is from these miserable hells that seven-tenths of the crimes arise for
which the poor negro is dragged to the work-house and made to suffer
under the paddle.

And yet these very men, whose connivance at vice and crime is
disregarded by the law, rise and take position in society-not only
entering into more respectable business-but joining in that phalanx
who are seeking the life-blood of the old Southerner, and like a silent
moth, working upon his decay. There is a deep significance in the answer
so frequently given in Charleston to the interrogatory, "Who lives in
that splendid dwelling-it seems to have been the mansion of a prince,
but is somewhat decayed?"

"Oh! bless me, yes! It was once the mansion of the So-and-sos, one of
the first families, but they're very poor now. Mr. What-you-may-call-em
owns it now-they say he didn't get it honestly. He kept a little
grog-shop on the Bay, or sold bacon and whisky on the Bay, and made
awful charges against poor So-and-so, and after a long trial in Chancery
he got his house. He's a big fellow; now, I tell you, and is going to
fit the house up for himself!"

Dunn told Manuel to be seated, that there was no occasion for hurrying;
it would be all right if he got to the sheriffs office at nine o'clock;
and then commenced descanting upon the fine time he would have at the
jail. "There's a right good lot of comrades there, me boy; ye'll have
fiddling and dancing, plenty of gals, and a jolly time; and ye a'n't a
criminal, ye know, so it won't be any thing at all, only keep up a stiff
under-lip. Come, let us take another drink; I feel mighty husky this
morning!" said he.

Just at this time Dusenberry re-entered, puffing and blowing as if he
had been engaged in a foot-race. "Another bird for old Grimshaw, at
Commercial Wharf! I know'd she had one aboard, 'cause I seed him from
the wharf," said he, in perfect ecstasy, pulling out a pencil and making
a note in a little book.

"Don't