ABOUT a quarter past eight o'clock in the evening, Master George, as he called himself, the little pedantic man, came skipping down the wharf. As soon as he approached the brig, he cried out at the top of his voice, “Captain! Captain!!”

The Captain stepped to the gangway, and the little fellow, who had stood crossing and working his fingers, reached out his hand to assist him ashore. This done, he took the Captain's arm, and commencing a discourse upon the wonderful things and people of South Carolina they wended their way to the Charleston Theatre. The company then performing was a small affair, and the building itself perfectly filthy, and filled with an obnoxious stench. The play was a little farce, which the Captain had seen to much perfection in his own country, and which required some effort of mind to sit out its present mutilation. Yet, so highly pleased was Master George, that he kept up a succession of applauses at every grimace made by the comedian. Glad when the first piece was over, the Captain made a motion to adjourn to the first good bar-room and have a punch. It was agreed, upon the condition that the little man should “do the honor,” and that they should return and see the next piece out. The Captain, of course, yielded to the rejoinder, though it was inflicting a severe penalty upon his feelings. There was another piece to come yet, which the little fellow's appetite was as ready to devour as the first. The Captain, seeing this, could not refrain expressing his surprise. This was taken as a charge against his taste, and George immediately commenced a discussion upon the subject of the piece, the intention of the author, and the merits of the principal performers, whose proper adaptation he admired. The Captain knew his subject, and instead of contending in detail, advised him to take a peep into the theatres of New York and London. Not to be undone, for he was like all little men, who insist upon the profoundness of their own opinions, he asserted that it could be only the different views which individuals entertained of delineating character, and that the Charlestonians were proverbially correct in their judgment of music and dramatic performances.

“I pity the judgment that would award merit to such a performance as that,” said the Captain.

“How strange, that you Englishmen and Scotchmen always find fault with every thing we Americans do. Your writers manifest it in their books upon us and the people seem of necessity to copy from them, and echo their grumblings,” rejoined Master George.

“You judge from the common saying, instead of a knowledge front observation, I fear,” said the Captain.

“Lord, sir! you must not judge me by that rule. Carolinians, sir, always appreciate intelligent strangers, for they always exert a healthy influence, and never meddle with our institutions; so you see it wouldn't do to follow the pestilent notions of petty scribblers, lest we should form wrong opinions.”

“But tell me,” said the Captain, “do you consider yourselves Americans in South Carolina?—the pilot must have led me astray.”

“Americans! yes, indeed, the true blood at that, and no man of tip-top judgment ever questioned it. But you must mark the difference; we ha'n't Yankees, nor we don't believe in their infernal humbuggery about abolition. If it wasn't for South Carolina and Georgia, the New-Englanders would starve for want of our cotton and rice. It's the great staple what keeps the country together; and as much as they talk about it, just take that away, and what would the United States be? We South Carolinians give no symptoms or expressions of what we mean to do that we cannot maintain. We have been grossly insulted by the Federal Government, but it dar'n't come at us and just give us a chance at fair fight. We'd show 'em the thunder of the Palmetto, that they'd never trouble our sovereignty again. Captain, I pledge you my honor that if there wasn't so many infernal Yankees in Georgia, and she'd follow our lead in secession, we'd just lick the whole North. Georgia's a big State, but she a'n't pluck, and has no chivalry at all among her people. She allows such privileges to them Yankees-gives them power to control her manufacturing interests-and this is just what will uproot the foundation of their slave institution. Georgians a'n't a bit like us; first, they are too plebeian in their manners-have no bond of guardianship for their laws, and exert no restraints for the proper protection of good society. But, Captain, their stock has a different origin, and the peculiarity which now marks our character may be traced to the offspring of early settlement. We derived our character and sentiments from the Huguenots; they, from an uncharacterized class of coarse adventurers, whose honesty was tinctured with penal suspicion. This, sir, accounts for the differences so marked in our character.”

The little fellow pressed this kind of conversation in the lobby of the theatre, and at the same time took the very particular pleasure of introducing the Captain to several of the young bloods, as he called them, while they walked to and from the boxes. At length the Captain found himself in a perfect hornet's nest, surrounded by vicious young secessionists, so perfectly nullified in the growth that they were all ready to shoulder muskets, pitchforks, and daggers, and to fire pistols at poor old Uncle Sam, if he should poke his nose in South Carolina. The picture presented was that of an unruly set of children dictating their opinions to a hoary-headed old daddy-accusing him of pragmatism, and threatening, if he was twice as old, they'd whip him unless he did as they directed. The knowledge of South Carolina's power and South Carolina's difficulties with the Federal Government he found so universally set forth as to form the atmosphere of conversation in the parlor, the public-house, the school and the bar-room, the lecture-room and the theatre.

The little man extended his invitation to a party of the bloods. The Captain was taken by the arms in a kind of bond fellowship, and escorted into Baker's eating-saloon, a place adjacent to the theatre, and, to a man unaccustomed to the things that are in Charleston, a very rowdy place. This is considered by Charlestonians one of the finest places in the Southern country; where good suppers and secession (the all-engrossing subjects with Charlestonians) form the only important element of conversation. It may be set down as a fact, that among seven-tenths of the people of Charleston, the standard of a gentleman is measured according to his knowledge of secession and his ability to settle the question of hot suppers. We say nothing of that vigorous patriotism so often manifested in a long string of fulsome toasts that disgrace the columns of the Mercury and Courier.

At Baker's the place was literally crowded with all kinds and characters, graded from the honorable judge down to the pot-boy; a pot-pouri of courtesy and companionship only exhibited in England on the near approach of elections. The reader may think this strange, but we can assure him that distinctions are strangely maintained; an exclusive arrogance being observed in private life, while a too frequent and general resort to bar-rooms has established plebeianism in public. Voices were sounding at all parts of the counter, and for as many different voices as many different mixtures were named. The Captain received a great many introductions, and almost as many invitations to drink; but the little man, Master George, claimed the exclusive honor, and keeping an eye wide awake, took the advantage of his own dimensions, and began working his way through a barricade of bodies and elbows, until he had reached the counter. His party followed close, at his heels. Altogether, they called for cocktails, smashes, toddies, cobblers, juleps, and legitimates. These disposed of, the company repaired to what is called a “box up-stairs.” Scarcely seated, Master George rang the bell with such violence that he disjointed the cord and tassel, and gave such an alarm that three or four darkies came poking their alarmed countenances through the curtains at once.

“There's nothing like making the fellows mind; they've got so infernal independent here, and old Tom thinks so much of his young wife, that his niggers have begun to imitate him. One's enough at a time!” said Master George, with all the importance of his character. A “bright boy,” with his hair nicely parted on the middle of his head, and frizzed for the occasion, made a polite bow, while the others retired.

“What have you choice for supper, to-night? We want something ripe for the palate-none of your leavings, now, you infernal nigger, and don't tell us none of your lies.”

“Birds, sir, grouse, woodcock, partridge, canvas-backs, and quails; meats, venison, and oysters, master-did up in any shape what the gentlemen wish. Wines, &c., if they want,” replied the servant, without any of the negro dialect, at the same time making a low bow to Master George.

“Name it! name your dishes, gentlemen! Don't be backward. I suppose his birds are as usual, without age to flavor them. It's perfectly heathenish to eat birds as they are served here: we never get a bird here that is sufficiently changed to suit a gentleman o' taste; their beef's tough, and such steak as they make is only fit for shoemakers and blacksmiths. I never come into the place but I think of my journey in France, where they know the style and taste of a gentleman, and things are served to suit your choice.” Thus our little friend continued his connoisseur remarks, to give the Captain a particular idea of his proficiency in the requisite qualities, age, and time of keeping necessary to make the adjuncts of a supper fit for a gentleman. “D—me! we don't know when edibles are choice, and the Yankees are perfect brutes in these things, and have no more taste than a cow. Our folks ought to all go to France for a year or two, to learn the style of cooking. It's perfect murder to eat a bird the very day after it's killed; yes, sir! no man that considers his stomach will do it,” said George.

The servant waited impatiently-the Captain rubbed his eyes, and began to pour out a glass of water; and dryly said he'd no choice, which was responded to by the rest. It was left to Master George, and he ordered a bountiful supply of grouse, partridges, oyster, and champagne of his favourite brand-none other. There was also a billiard-room, reading-room, a room for more important gambling, and a bar-room, up-stairs. All these were well filled with very well-dressed and very noisy people; the latter being a very convenient place, the party sent to it for tipplers to fill up time.

“This is but a small portion of what constitutes life in Charleston, Captain. We live for living's sake, and don't stand upon those blueskin theories of temperance and religion that Yankees do, and blame the Father of generations for not making the world better. I never saw one of them that wasn't worse than we Southerners before he'd been in Charleston a year, and was perfect death on niggers. Yes, sir, it's only the extreme goodness of the Southern people's hearts that makes the niggers like them so. I never saw a Northerner yet that wouldn't work his niggers to death in two years. D—me, sir, my servants all love me as if I was a prince. Have you ever been in France, sir?” said he, suddenly breaking off. The Captain replied in the affirmative.

“Ah! then you can speak French! the most polished language known to refined society. I wouldn't part with my French for the world. All the first families in Charleston are familiar with it. It's the modern gentleman's curt-blanche to society here. There's no language like it for beauty and flexibility; but one must go to France and learn to acquire its grace and ease,” said he, in rapid succession, rolling out his words in imitation of a London sprig of the Inner Temple, and working his little mastiff mouth.

“No, sir,” said the Captain quaintly. “I never stopped long enough in France to get hold of the lingo.”

“God bless me, what a misfortune! and can't speak it yet, ah? Why, Captain, if you wanted to court a petite madmoselle, you'd be in a sad fix-she wouldn't understand what you were talking about and would take your love-pledges for gammon.”

“You're mistaken there, my good fellow. Love grows on trees in France, and a French woman can see it before you begin to tell her about it!” retorted the Captain, which brought a “Good! good! hit him again!” from the whole party. At this, Master George commenced reading the Captain a disquisition upon the best mode of acquiring the French language. Supper was brought-in old Tom Baker's best flourish-and the party begun to discuss its merits with great gusto. What the little, chivalrous fellows lacked in physical dimension, they made up in patriotic sentiment in behalf of the grand sovereignty of South Carolina, which they continued to pour out until a late hour, every man backing his sayings by the authority of the great and wonderful Calhoun.

The Captain sat eating away, and seeming more disposed to enjoy the physical consolation of his supper than to elevate his ideas upon South Carolina's politics.

“Now, Captain,” said Master George, in a very serious tone, after he had been striking his hand upon the marble table for more than an hour to confirm the points of his reasoning,—“what is your opinion of the great question at issue between the Federal Government and South Carolina? And what do you think of the Old Dominion? how will she stand upon the test-question?”

The poor Captain looked confounded-took another oyster, and began to get his mouth in a fix, while little George worked his fingers through his nice curly hair, and the young bloods awaited the rejoinder with anxiety.

“Really, sir, you have the advantage of me in your question. It is so much beyond my profession that I am entirely ignorant of the subject-therefore could not give an opinion. In truth, sir, I do not know the purport of the question. It has given me pleasure and information to listen to your conversation and the ability you displayed in argument, but, as a stranger, I could take no part,” replied the Captain very sincerely.

Not content with this, Master George wished to be more direct. “It's the right of secession, Captain-the power to maintain the right by the constitution.”

“Probably; but may I expose my ignorance by inquiring what is meant by secession? and to what it is applied so frequently?” inquired the Captain.

“Oh! murder Captain; have you never heard of nullification times! Well, sir, you must be posted on the affairs of our government.” So he commenced an analysis of nearly an hour long, and in it gave some astonishing accounts of the wonderful statesmanship of Calhoun, Butler, and Rhett, tapering down with a perfect fire-and-thunder account of the military exploits of General Quattlebum and Captain Blanding. The Captain began to stretch and gape, for he labored under the fatigue of a perilous voyage, and repose was the only sovereign remedy. He felt that the limits of propriety were entirely overstepped, and that he would have reason to remember the first night spent with little George the secessionist.

“But, Captain! my dear fellow. I see you don't understand our position yet. We've been insulted; yes, most rascally insulted by the Federal Government, and they keep it up every year. We can't get our rights. Oh! no, sir, there's no such thing in the knowledge of the Federal officers as justice for South Carolina; and you must understand, Captain, that she is the greatest State in the Union, and there a'n't nothing like her people for bravery. The political power's got North and West, the old constitution is being dissected to suit the abolitionists, and they're drawing the cordon around us faster and faster; and they're now out like a warrior boldly to the conquest, sounding their voices in the halls of Congress, appealing to human and divine power to protect their nonsense, and bidding defiance to our constitutional rights, Our slaves are our property, protected by the law of God-by that inspired and superhuman wisdom that founded our great and glorious constitution. Yes, sir! it was an institution entailed upon us by our forefathers, and a wise providence has provided proper laws by which we shall protect and see these poor miserable devils of helpless slaves, that can't take care of themselves, straight through.”

“But how does this affect you and the Federal Government?” inquired the Captain.

“Why, sir, most directly!” replied Master George, screwing his mouth and giving his head a very learned attitude. “Directly, sir!—the Federal Government is acquiescing in every abolition scheme that is put forward by that intriguing Northern compact for the establishment of new governments in the territories. She is granting unconstitutional privileges to designing politicians, whose chief aim is to uproot our domestic institution and destroy the allegiance of the slave to his master, by which the slaves would be cast upon the world unprotected, and we disarmed of power to protect them. Ah! sir, I tell you, of all fruits of the imagination that would be the most damnable, and the slave would be the sufferer. It would be worse for him, poor fellow; it would be an abuse of human power without precedent. So far as political power is concerned, we are nearly disarmed. The influx of population finds its way into the opened avenues of the North and West. And with opinions predisposed against our institutions, and the contaminating influence standing ready with open arms to embrace the great current, what can we expect? It's the increasing power made by foreign influx that's giving tone to our government. If our Southern Convention stand firm we are saved; but I'm fearful there's too many doubtful shadows in it that won't stand to the gun. That's what's always played the devil with us,” said George, striking his hand upon the table. “There's no limitation to their interpositions, and their resolves, and their adjournments; which don't come up to my principles of making the issue, and standing to the question with our coffins on our backs. These condescensions of thought and feeling arise from the misconceived notions of a few, who are always ready to join, but never willing to march to action, and must not be taken as a specimen of South Carolina bravery. The Federal Government has become vicious and even puerile toward South Carolina; and since the Herculean power of the great Calhoun is gone, it treats us like a semi-barbarous and secluded people, mistaking our character. But we'll learn the Federal Government a lesson yet.”

“Do not your legislators make laws for your government, or how is it that you express such a restive dissatisfaction? Do not the same laws which govern you, govern the whole of the slave States?”

Little George had previously monopolized all the conversation, but at this juncture five or six voices broke out, each fired with a reply to the Captain's question; and yet the answer was of the same old stamp: What South Carolina had done-how she had fought and gained the Mexican war-how she was interested in slaves, and how she yet feared to strike the blow because a set of mere adventurers had got the power to vote in her elections, and cowards through them had got into the legislature.

“Why, gentlemen, listen to me in this particular. If”—

“Your oysters are getting cold, George,” interrupted a blood at his left, rather facetiously.

“I claim the respect due a gentleman, sir! A South Carolinian will transgress no rules of etiquette,” said George, grasping his tumbler in a passionate manner and smashing it upon the marble slab, causing a sudden emeute in the camp. “Order! order! order!” was sounded from every tongue. “You mustn't be afeard, Captain,” said one of the party. “This is perfectly South Carolinian-just the oscillating of the champagne; it won't last long.”

The noise was more loud than ordinary, and brought a score of people around to hear the trouble. George had got in high dudgeon, and it took several persons to hold him, while the remainder, not excepting the Captain, were engaged in a pacification. The scene was very extravagant in folly; and through the kind interposition of friends, the matter was settled to the honorable satisfaction of both parties-the question was called for-the Captain called for a legitimate, rubbed his eyes, and little George proceeded. “If my friend Thomas Y. Simmons, Jr., had been elected to the legislature he'd altered the position of things in South Carolina. All these corruptions would have been exposed, and the disparity of party would have dwindled into obscurity. Every true Carolinian voted for him to the hilt, but how was he defeated? Gentlemen, can you answer? it will be a favor highly gratifying to me to hear your opinions!” A voice answered, “Because he wasn't big enough!” “No, sir,” said George, “it was because there was intrigue in the party, and the Yankee influence went to put him down. The world'll hear from him yet. He's my particular friend, and will stand in the halls of Congress as great a statesman as ever lisped a political sentiment.”

George's account of his particular friend, Thomas Y. S—, Jr., was so extravagant, and not having heard of him before, the Captain's curiosity was aroused to know who he was and where he resided. We will not tax the reader with George's wonderful memoir of his friend, but merely inform him that “little Tommy Simmons,” as he is usually styled in Charleston, is an exact pattern of Master George, with the exception of his mouth, which is straight and regular; and if we may be allowed to condescend to the extremes, we should say that the cordwainer had done more for his heels. Otherwise, no daguerreotype could give a counterpart more correct. Tommy is a very small member of the Charleston bar, who, though he can seldom be seen when the court is crowded, makes a great deal of noise without displaying power of elucidation or legal abilities, yet always acquitting himself cleverly. Tommy was little George in two particulars-he had studied law, and was a great secessionist; and if George had never practised, it was only from inclination, which he asserted arose from a humane feeling which he never could overcome-that he never wished to oppress anybody. But the greatest contrast that the reader can picture to himself between mental and physical objects existed between Tommy's aspirations and the physical man. His mind was big enough, and so was his self-confidence, to have led the Assyrian and Chaldean army against the Hebrews. To this end, and to further the formula of his statesmanship, no sooner was he twenty-one, and the corner just turned, than he sounded his war-trumpet-secession or death!—mounted the rostrum and “stump'd it,” to sound the goodness and greatness of South Carolina, and total annihilation to all unbelievers in nullification. It was like Jonah and the whale, except the swallowing, which spunky Tommy promised should be his office, if the Federal Government didn't toe the mark. Yes, Tommy was a candidate for the legislature, and for the Southern Congress, (which latter was exclusively chivalrous;) and the reader must not be surprised when we tell him that he lacked but a few votes of being elected to the former. Such was the voice of the Charleston district.

Supper had been discussed down to the fragments, and all expressed their satisfaction of the quantity and declined any more; but George called on another bottle of champagne, and insisted that the party should take a parting glass. The servant had begun to extinguish the lights-a sure sign that the success of the bar was ended for the night. George reprimanded the negro-the sparkling beverage was brought, glasses filled up, touched, and drunk with the standing toast of South Carolina. A motion to adjourn was made and seconded, and the party, feeling satisfied with their evening's recreation, moved off accordingly.