he said, "are great people in their way. I know them all in the direction in which you tell me you are bending your steps."

"But, perhaps," said I---- Before I could conclude, he interrupted me with his peculiar, short, quick laugh--always broken off suddenly, as if it were cut through in the middle, saying--

"I understand; you may not wish to have any trumpets blown before you. You may like to go quietly about whatever business you have to do. I saw that your carpet bag had no name on it, and therefore, of course, I asked the captain who you were, whence you came, whither you were going, and everything about you, in the true Yankee spirit. My dear sir, there is no such thing as secresy in this country. Every man knows everybody else's business much better than his own. It is a great deal worse in the East, that is true; and I have known one of my fellow-countrymen pursue a silent and reserved traveller through two long days' journey--quite out of his way too--simply because he knew he should never have a moment's peace for the rest of his life if he did not find out all about him. At last, the unfortunate traveller was obliged to open out and tell him the whole story--true or false I do not know--merely to be quit of him. However, I will write the letters for you, and you can deliver them or not, as you like; but mind, I tell you fairly, you can't conceal yourself. In this part of the country, the negroes do all the work in the way of inquisitiveness, which we Yankees do with our own tongues. There is nothing ever hidden from a negro; and the moment he or she knows it, every person of the same colour knows it throughout the whole town, and from them it gets to the masters and mistresses. If ever a young gentleman kisses a young lady behind the door, you may be quite sure there is a black eye looking through a chink; and then it is, 'Lors a marcy, Miss Jemima! what do you tink? Massa John kiss Miss Jane behind de door.' Then Miss Jemima runs to Aunty Sal, and exclaims, 'Lors a marcy!' too, and Aunty Sal tells it to Mammy Kate, and Mammy Kate tells it to her dearly-beloved nursling, Miss Betty, who sends it round through all the kith and kin of the parties concerned. Do you see that black man walking along, who has just been talking to your friend Zed? He knows all about you at this present moment.

"Yes, I see him," answered I, "the man carrying the sucking pig, you mean?"

"Pardon me; that is not a sucking pig," answered Mr. Wheatley; "that is helotice, a possum--anglice, an opossum; no bad dish let me tell you, and one of which the negroes are very fond. But this is not the season for them. After the persimons are ripe, they get exceedingly fat and tender."

"And what are persimons?" I asked.

"A sort of wild fruit," he answered, "in shape somewhat like a plum, and in taste like an apricot, of which the opossum is exceedingly fond. But suffer not yourself to be deceived by the wags up the country; for the Virginians are exceedingly fond of practical jokes. Now the persimon may look perfectly ripe and tempting to the eye; but till it is touched by the frost, soot and vinegar are honey and Falernian to it. Neither, if you have an abhorrence, as I have, of middle-aged pigs, suffer yourself to be tempted to eat an animal they call here a shoat--a name I am convinced they have invented to cover the abomination they are offering you. However, give me pen and ink, and I will write these letters for you. I would give you more good advice, but every one must buy his own experience in some degree, and the best council I can give you, as to all men in a strange country, is, 'keep your eyes open, and do as you see others do.'" I thought this very good advice; for what I might call the technicalities of any society are soon learned, and the pedantries of society are not worth learning. In Russia, every man, from the prince to the peasant, eats with his knife. In England, to do so is almost a social crime; and yet, where in reality is the misdemeanor? Nothing can be really and essentially vulgar that is not disgusting or offensive to others. The best-bred Turk eats with his fingers; but he takes care to wash his hands before he begins and after he has ended. Perhaps he is really more cleanly than the man who eats with a fork when he does not know whether it has been washed or not. However, my friend sat down and wrote the letters for me; and, in the meantime, Master Zed came in already dressed in his new apparel. I had not waited to see his choice of habiliments, but had restricted the shopkeeper--storekeeper, I should have said, God bless the mark! there are no shopkeepers here--to a certain amount; and unquestionably my new man's appearance somewhat startled me. He had got on a plum-coloured frock or tunic coat, with a velvet collar almost red; a pair of Windsor gray--I might almost say light blue pantaloons; a decidedly bright blue cravat; and a shirt-collar so high, so prominent, so extensive in every direction, that I could not but fear that the poor man's round ball of a head would some day disappear in it, white wool and all. He seemed, however, perfectly satisfied with the effect; and I could see him cast sundry glances at a tall looking-glass between the windows, which reflected an image such as is rarely seen upon this globe. True, if he were happy, I had no reason to be discontented; and happy he evidently was, poor man, though I fancy some shirts and stockings had been sacrificed, out of the amount of his equipment, to the splendour of the coat, the cravat, and the pantaloons. Not the least did he presume upon his finery; but, with a most deferential air, inquired what time I should be ready to start on the following morning, humbly suggesting that my horses' fore-feet would be better if shoed and pared, especially at some parts of the road not being of the best, and blacksmiths' shops being few and far between, it would be wise to set out all right, with a nail or two and a hammer in one of the saddlebags. Zed's precautions seemed to be not amiss; and this indication of care and forethought appeared a good augury; so I gave him some money to buy what he wanted, and dismissed him.

"They are good creatures," said Mr. Wheatley, looking up from his letter, "capable of strong affections and strong attachments; but child-like, and requiring constant supervision and care. Now this very man, who has been so thoughtful on a matter in regard to which right notions have been drummed into him by long habit, would make the most egregious, the most absurd, and sometimes the most distressing blunders in regard to things out of his routine. There are two propensities, however, of which the race is rarely ever free--to pilfer and to lie. The pilfering is usually confined to petty articles; and it would really seem as if they reasoned with themselves upon the matter, judging that what they take will please and benefit them more than the loss will pain or injure you. The lie, too, has its bounds and restrictions; it is like the lie of a child, issuing from fear or from the wish of giving pleasure or amusement."

"May not both habits," I said, "be naturally traced to the positions in which they are established? Having no property themselves, not even in themselves, may not their pilfering be a just retribution upon those who are depriving them of all? and may not the lie from fear, or from the purpose of pleasing, be traced to an institution which deprives them of that manly dignity which knows not fear and scorns deception?" Mr. Wheatley's short, quick laugh broke in upon me again. "I think not," he said: "you must see more of them before you can judge. Then perhaps you may be of opinion that the pilfering is a mere proclivity of their vanity or their small appetites. What they take is generally a bright-coloured ribbon, or a bit of lace, or a spoonful out of a pot of sweatmeats, or a glass out of a brandy bottle. You can teach a dog to abstain from taking anything