ntable injustice which inflicts punishment upon
persons guiltless of crime. We prefer to be plain, and we know our
Southern friends will not accuse us of misconstruction, for we have
their interests at heart, as well as the cause of humanity, which we
shall strive to promote, in spite of the struggles of modern barbarism,
seeking to perpetuate itself. Fear, the inventor of such pretexts as are
set up, and mantled in Southern modesty, must remodel its code for South
Carolinians, before it can assert a power unknown to law, or trample
upon the obligations of treaty, or enforce nullification of individual
rights.

CHARLESTON, S. C., July 17,1852.

MANUEL PEREIRA.

CHAPTER I. THE UNLUCKY SHIP.

THE British brig Janson, Thompson, master, laden with sugar, pimento,
&c. &c. left Kingston, Jamaica, in the early part of March, in the
present year, bound for Glasgow. The skipper, who was a genuine son
of the "Land o' Cakes," concluded to take the inside passage, and run
through the gulf. This might have been questioned by seamen better
acquainted with the windward passage; but as every Scotchman likes to
have his own way, the advice of the first officer--an experienced salt
in the West India waters--went to leeward. On rounding Cape Antoine, it
was evident that a strong blow was approaching. The clouds hung their
dark curtains in threatening blackness; and, as the sharp flashes of
lightning inflamed the gloomy scene, the little bark seemed like a speck
upon the bosom of the sea. It was the first mate's watch on deck. The
wind, then blowing from the W.S.W., began to increase and veer into the
westward; from whence it suddenly chopped into the northward. The mate
paced the quarter wrapt in his fearnought jacket, and at every turn
giving a glance aloft, then looking at the compass, and again to the man
at the wheel, as if he had an instinct of what was coming.

He was a fearless navigator, yet, like many others who had yielded to
the force of habit, was deeply imbued with that prevalent superstition
so common to sailors, which regards a particular ship as unlucky.
Imagine an old-fashioned boatswain, with north-country features strongly
marked, a weather-beaten face, and a painted south-wester on his head,
and you have the "Mister Mate" of the old brig Janson.

"Keep her full, my hearty. We must take in our light sails and go on
the other tack soon. If we don't catch it before daylight, I'll miss my
calculation.