the transactions of the moment than all the rest—for a brief space will determine whom, among the multitude, he is to call master! The auctioneer descants at large upon his merits and capabilities.—"Acclimated, gentlemen! a first-rate carriage-driver—raised by Col. ——. Six hundred dollars is bid. Examine him, gentlemen—a strong and athletic fellow—but twenty-seven years of age." He is knocked off at seven hundred dollars; and with "There's your master," by the seller, who points to the purchaser, springs from his elevation to follow his new owner; while his place is supplied by another subject. These scenes are every-day matters here, and attract no attention after beholding them a few times; so powerful is habit, even in subduing our strongest prejudices. But the following dialogue, overheard by me, between two well-dressed, smart-looking blacks near by, one seated listlessly upon his coach-box, the other holding the bridle of his master's horse—though brief, contains a volume of meaning, in illustrating the opinions and views of the blacks upon the state of their degraded race.

"You know dat nigger, they gwine to sell, George?"

"No, he field nigger; I nebber has no 'quaintance wid dat class."

"Well, nor no oder gentlemens would. But he's a likely chap. How much you tink he go for?"—"I a'n't much 'quainted wid de price of such kind o' peoples. My master paid seven hundred dollar for me, when I come out from ole Wirginney—dat nigger fetch five hun'red dollar I reckon."

"You sell for only seben hun'red dollars!" exclaimed the gentleman upon the coach-seat, drawing himself up with pride, and casting a contemptuous glance down upon his companion: "my massa give eight hundred and fifty silver dollars for me. Gom! I tink dat you was more 'spectable nigger nor dat." At this turn of the conversation the negro was struck off at seven hundred, at which the colloquist of the same price became highly chagrined; but, stepping upon the stirrup, and raising himself above the crowd, that he might see "the fool massa what give so much for a miserable good-for-nothing nigger, not wort' his corn," consoled himself with the reflection that the buyer was "a man what made no more dan tirty bale cotton; while my master make tree hun'red, and one of de firs' gemmans too!"

Thus, though denied the privileges of his desired "caste," by the estimation of his personal value, he aspired to it by a conclusive argument, in the eye of a negro, viz. his master's wealth and rank in society. Can individuals, who are thus affected at the sale of their fellow-men, and who view their state of bondage in this light, feel deeply their own condition, or be very sensitive upon the subject of equal rights? Yet thus do negroes view slavery. Thus do they converse upon it; and are as tenacious of the limited privileges, (yet to them unlimited, because they know, and can therefore aspire to no other) which, like flowers, are entwined among the links of their moral bondage. There is one, proud that his chain weighs down a few more gold pieces than that of his fellow, while the latter is in no less degree mortified at the deficiency in weight of his own. Do such men "pine in bondage" and "sigh for freedom?" Freedom, of which they know nothing, and cannot, therefore, feel the deprivation; a freedom of which they have heard only, as the orientals of their fabled genii, but to which generally they no more think of aspiring than the subjects of the caliph to the immortality and winged freedom of these imaginary beings. These two negroes I have seen repeatedly since, and am assured that they are as intelligent, well informed, and "respectable," as any of their class; none of whom, allowing a very few exceptions, entertain higher or different views of their state as slaves, or of their rank in the scale of human beings. Do not mistake me: I am no advocate for slavery; but neither am I a believer in that wild Garrisonian theory, which, like a magician's wand, is at once to dissolve every link that binds the slave to his master, and demolish at one blow a system that has existed, still gaining in extent and stability, for centuries. The familiar French proverb, "imagination gallops while the judgment advances only on a walk," is most applicable to these visionary theorists who would build Rome in a day.

Opposite to the auction store are a cluster of gay carriages, to and from which fair beings, not quite angels, are "ascending and descending," to look over all the "pretty things" in the richly lined stores. Was there ever a fancy store that ladies were not hovering near? "A new store"—"new goods,"—"less than cost!" What magic words! What visions of silks and satins, gros de Swiss and gros de Naples, challys and shawls, Grecian laces and Paris gloves, with a thousand other charming etceteras, float before their delighted fancies, in every form of grace and ornament that the imagination can picture or a refined taste invent. Ladies are ladies all the world over; and where is the place in which they do not love "to shop?" In this far corner of the south and west, you are prepared to give fashion credit for but few devotees, and those only partial and half-souled worshippers. But you must not forget that these are southerners; and the southerner is never found unfashionable or deficient in taste. The moving galaxy of grace and beauty that floats down Chestnut-street, cannot at any time present more fashionable and elegantly-dressed promenaders than now enliven the street, or than that fair bevy of young ladies clustered round yonder carriage door, all chattering together, with their sweet pleasant voices, to a pale, beautiful, and interesting girl within, apparently an invalid. So far as I can judge, as much of "the ton," in dress and society, prevails here as in Philadelphia, where many residents of the city and country spend a portion of every summer—certainly more than at New-Orleans, which is by far the most unfashionable city in the United States. The gentlemen of Natchez are less particular in their dress, though much more punctilious than they were five or six years since, when there was not to be found what would be termed a "fashionable man," (according to the acceptation of the term in New-York) among the residents of this city. And where is the southern gentleman that ever dressed fashionably? They dress well and richly, but seldom fashionably. Their garments hang upon them loosely, as though made for larger men; and they wear them with a sort of free and easy air, enviable but inimitable by the stiffer and more formal northerner. The southerner, particularly the planter, would wear with a native and matchless grace the flowing toga of imperial Rome. Though destitute of that fashionable exterior which the tailor supplies, and for which, in general, they have a most sovereign indifference and contempt, they possess—I mean the genuine, native-born, well-educated southerner—an "air distingué," and in the highest degree aristocratic, which is every where the most striking feature of their appearance.

That knot of gentlemen issuing from a plain brick building—one of the banks—is composed of bank directors. Their decisions have elevated or depressed the mercury in many an anxious breast. Two or three faces resemble those one often sees in Wall-street, or on Change, in Boston. The resemblance is so striking that one is quite sure at the first glance that he has seen them there. But no; they are merchants of this city—thorough-going commercial men. The resemblance is only that of a species. Merchants resemble each other everywhere. Their features are strongly marked and characteristic. It has been said that a Boston merchant may be known all the world over. It has been proved that a sea-faring