the steamboat which I had disdained, lying puffing out her hot breath, and singing no very melodious song. I must say that the external view of the city is much more pleasant than the internal. From the water, on whose bosom it seems to rest, the very ruggedness and irregularity of the outline--especially in the magnifying atmosphere of twilight--give it a picturesqueness, and even a grandeur, which the interior wofully belies. The streets are narrow, irregular, ill kept, and full of the most unpleasant odours. At every crossing you stumble over a dead dog or cat. The air, too, is redolent of stale and salted fish and tobacco; and the part of the town nearest to the river seems a happy compound of Wapping and Billingsgate, while the ear is regaled with violent peels of Negro laughter, mingled occasionally with all the riches of the Irish brogue.

"Negro laughter!" you may exclaim. Yes, my dear sister! Whatever you may think, these poor, unhappy people, as we are taught to believe them, laugh all day long with such merry and joyous peals, that it is impossible to believe that the iron of which we are told, is pressing very deeply into their souls. At all events, I am quite sure it does not affect their diaphragms. I think I shall establish it as a good comparison to say, "as merry as a negro slave." Even in their solitary moments, too, there seems to be no brooding discontent about them. They are talking continually to themselves, and their soliloquies seem full of fun--at least, if we may believe the merry laughs excited by what they themselves are saying. This morning, I followed down to the very extreme end of the town an old negro, who, though he was somewhat lame in one leg, seemed very agile and vigorous. There was something about the man that caught my fancy; for though he was very plainly dressed, in a sort of frieze jacket and a pair of blue linen trousers, he was very clean: his white wool looked respectable, and his black skin shone like ebony. His occupation, at the time, was the humble one of carrying a large dead pig upon his back. These people are a curious study to me, having seen so little of them, and having received but a one-sided view of their character and of their treatment. So I watched him along the way, keeping a little behind, and on one side of him. Some distance down the street, at a house with a little garden before it, a huge monkey, with a face horridly human, was sitting, chained to a tree, eating what seemed to me a potato. The negro stopped, with the pig still upon his back, and gazed thoughtfully at the monkey for a moment or two. The brute grinned and chattered at the man, and held up his doubled fist in rather a pugilistic attitude. The negro grinned, and said aloud--"Ah, massa Jacko, you damn like old folks!" And on he marched upon his way. I must explain to you that "old folks," in negro parlance, means, generally, the mother and father of the speaker. At the further part of the town, where a rough paling encircled a piece of ground intended to be built upon, my black friend stopped, and deliberately unshouldered his pig, setting him up on his hind feet against the boards. But he could not be without his joke, even at his mute companion. Indeed, this race seems to have a poetical way of animating everything. "Ah, massa piggy." he said, "I carried you long way; you look mighty stiff. I damn tired too. So we both rest ourselves." As we were now at the outskirts of the town, and as I was afraid of losing myself if I went further, I turned back to my inn, which is tolerably comfortable, although a poor looking place enough. It is called the Exchange Hotel; and there you had better write to me, as when I go onward, I shall request my very civil landlady to forward all letters to me by the speediest conveyance. You may ask why I do not go onward at once, and get through my business in the interior without delay; but the fact is I am waiting for letters from Mr. Griffith of New York, who, having seen me in England, can identify me here. He only can prove that I am the veritable Simon Pure, and make clear my title to the property which our good aunt has left me. I expected these letters in Baltimore; but, in regard to some of the institutions, I wanted to see and examine, especially that of slavery, Baltimore is neither fish, flesh, nor red herring. It is in a slaveholding State; but so close to the free States, that slavery there is little more than a name. It presented itself to my mind there in no other way than to make me wonder that the gentlemen and ladies of such a nice town were so fond of black servants, which you know is not generally the case in England. I therefore came on to Virginia, where the slave system is in full force, and directed the letters to follow me. As soon as they arrive, I shall proceed into Southampton County; and if it be possible to remain incog. in this most inquisitive of all countries, I shall quietly inspect Aunt Bab's lands and tenements, and make every necessary inquiry before I disclose who I am. What I shall do with the property, I do not know. It is not necessary to me. I have enough without; and may perhaps abandon it altogether. I hear you exclaim, my dear Kate, "You will of course emancipate the slaves!" And you will be horrified when I reply, "I do not know." But be assured I will do what, on mature reflection and personal observation, I judge to be the best for them. No motive of sordid interest will have any effect upon me, or could ever induce me to keep my fellow man in bondage. But I confess my preconceived opinions have been very much shaken by what I myself have seen, even during my short stay here, and by the comparisons which my mind has unconsciously instituted between the condition of the negro in the free states and in the slave-holding communities. In the former, he is decidedly a sad, gloomy, ay, an ill-treated man, subject to more of the painful restrictions of caste than I could have conceived possible. Here, he appears to be a cheerful, light-hearted, guileless, childlike creature, treated with perfect familiarity, and as far as I have seen, with kindness. Whether this be a reality or merely a semblance, I shall know hereafter; but, depend upon it, I will not act till I do know. I must close my letter, for my fellow passenger, Mr. Wheatley, has just come to call upon me, and I have surely written enough for one day. Write soon if you would have your letter reach me, as there is nothing more uncertain than the length or shortness of the stay of

Your affectionate Brother.

P.S.--This Mr. Wheatley, who has just left me, is certainly a very amusing man. I cannot tell much about his principles; and he seems to vent his scoffs and jests at everything. But he has a good deal of originality of thought, no bad conceit of himself, and some very strong and fixed opinions, springing rather, I suspect, from the suggestions of his own mind than from anything which has been instilled into him by others. He always seems to set out from the beginning of things; and then flies along his chain of deductions like an electric current, skipping a few links here and there, I doubt not, and getting on to another chain which leads him far away. But with men whom I may never meet again, I have got into a way of amusing myself with their characters, rather than combating their arguments. I was never born for an apostle; and I do not think, if I had the power of depriving men of their opinions or even of their prejudices, I should do much good to myself, or them, or society. Indeed, I have come to the conclusion, that the great bulk of men's prejudices is part of their property, which we have no right to take from them. We may tax them to a certain extent for the benefit of society, but we must prove that benefit before we make it our plea; and the rest we have no right to meddle with at all. The self-conceited desire to do so, is the origin of all fanaticism and of the host of evils to which it gives rise.

P.S. No. 2.--Eleven o'clock Friday night.--I have