THE Captain of the Janson, finding that no dependence was to be placed upon the statements of the officials, after returning to his vessel, gave orders that Tommy should be sent to the jail every day with provisions for Manuel. The task was a desirable one for Tommy, and every day about ten o'clock he might be seen trudging to the jail with a haversack under his arm. There were five stewards confined in the cell, and for some days previous to this attention on the part of the Captain they had been reduced to the last stage of necessity. The quantity may be considered as meagre when divided among so many, but added to the little things brought in by Jane, and presents from several of the crew of the Janson, they got along. Still it was a dependence upon chance and charity, which any casual circumstance might affect. For several days they made themselves as contented and happy as the circumstances would admit; and always being anxious to enjoy the privilege of their time in the yard, they would leave their cell together, and mix with the prisoners of their own color under the stoop.

After a few days, they found that their cell had been entered, and nearly all their provisions stolen. Not contented with this, the act was repeated for several days, and all the means they provided to detect the thief proved fruitless. The jailer made several searches through their remonstrances, but without effecting any thing. They kept their provisions in a little box, which they locked with a padlock; but as Daley had the keys of the cell, they had no means of locking the door. At length Manuel set a trap that proved effectual. One morning Tommy came puffing into the jail with a satchel over his back. “I guess Manuel won't feel downhearted when he sees this—do you think he will?” said the little fellow, as he put the satchel upon the floor and looked up at the jailer. “An' I've got some cigars, too, the Captain sent, in my pocket,” said he, nodding his head; and putting his hand into a side-pocket, pulled out one and handed it to the jailer.

“Ah! you are a good little fellow-worth a dozen of our boys. Sit down and rest yourself,” said the jailer, and called a monstrous negro wench to bring a chair and take the satchel up to the cell. Then turning to the back-door, he called Manuel; and, as if conscious of Tommy's arrival, the rest of the stewards followed. He sprang from the chair as soon as he saw Manuel, and running toward him, commenced telling him what he had got in the satchel and at the same time pulled out a handful of segars that the Captain had sent for himself. Manuel led the way up-stairs, followed by Tommy and the train of stewards. Tommy opened the satchel, while Manuel laid the contents, one by one, on the table which necessity had found in the head of a barrel.

“Now eat, my friends, eat just as much as you want, and then I'll catch the thief that breaks my lock and steals my meat. I catch him,” said Manuel. After they had all done, he locked the balance up in his box, and sent everybody down-stairs into the yard, first covering himself with two mattrasses, and giving orders to Copeland to lock the door after him. Every thing was ready to move at the word. In this position he remained for nearly half an hour. At length he heard a footstep approach the door, and then the lock clink. The door opened slowly, and the veritable Mr. Daley limped in, and taking a key from his pocket, unlocked the little box, and filling his tin pan, locked it, and was walking off as independent as a wood-sawyer, making a slight whistle to a watch that was stationed at the end of the passage. “It's you, is it?” said Manuel, suddenly springing up and giving him a blow on the side of the head that sent him and the contents of the pan into a promiscuous pile on the floor. Daley gathered himself up and made an attempt to reach the door, but Manuel, fearing what might be the consequence if the other prisoners came to his assistance, shut the door before him and fastened it on the inside.

“Bad luck to yer infernal eyes, will ye strike a white man, ye nager ye, in a country like this same?” said Daley, as he was gathering himself up. This incensed Manuel's feelings still more. To have insult added to injury, and a worthless drunkard and thief abuse him, was more than he could bear. He commenced according to a sailor's rule of science, and gave Daley a systematic threshing, which, although against the rules of the jail, was declared by several of the prisoners to be no more than he had long deserved. As may have been expected, Daley cried lustily for help, adding the very convenient item of murder, to make his case more alarming. Several persons had crowded around the door, but none could gain admittance. The jailer had no sooner reached the door, than (most unfortunately for Manuel) he was called back to the outer door, to admit Mr. Grimshaw, who had just rung the bell. The moment he entered, Daley's noise was loudest, and reached his ears before he had gained the outside gate. He rushed up-stairs, followed by the jailer, and demanded entrance at the cell door, swearing at the top of his voice that he would break it in with an axe if the command was not instantly obeyed.

The door opened, and Manuel stood with his left hand extended at Daley. “Come in, gentlemen, I catch him, one rascal, what steal my provision every day, and I punish him, what he remember when I leave.”

Daley stood trembling against the wall, bearing the marks of serious injury upon his face and eyes. “At it again, Daley? Ah! I thought you had left off them tricks!” said the jailer.

Daley began to tell a three-cornered story, and to give as many possible excuses, with equally as many characteristic bulls in them. “I don't want to hear your story, Daley,” said Mr. Grimshaw. “But, Mr. Jailer, I command you to lock that man up in the third story,” pointing to Manuel. “I don't care what the circumstances are. He's given us more trouble than he's worth. He tried to pass himself off for a white man, but he couldn't come that, and now he's had the impudence to strike a white man; lock him up! lock him up!! and keep him locked up until further orders from me. I'll teach him a lesson that he never learnt before he came to South Carolina; and then let Consul Mathew sweat over him, and raise another fuss if he can.”

“If he's guilty of violating the rules of the jail, Daley is guilty of misdemeanour, and the thieving has been aggravatingly continued. If we put one, we must put both up,” said the jailer.

“Just obey my orders, Mr. Jailer. I will reprimand Daley to-morrow. I shall just go to the extent of the law with that feller,” said Grimshaw peremptorily.

“You may lock me up in a dungeon, do with me as you will, if the power is yours; but my feelings are my own, and you cannot crush them. I look to my consul, and the country that has protected me around the world, and can protect me still,” said Manuel, resigning himself to the jailer, whose intentions he knew to be good.

Poor little Tommy stood begging and crying for his friend and companion, for he heard Mr. Grimshaw give an imperative order to the jailer not to allow visitors into his cell. “Never mind, Tommy, we shall soon meet again, and sail companions for the old owners. Don't cry; the jailer will let you see me to-morrow,” said Manuel.

“No, I can't do that; you heard my orders; I must obey them. I should like to do it, but it's out of my power,” returned the jailer, awaiting with a bunch of keys in his hand.

Manuel turned to the little fellow, and kissing him as he would an affectionate child, bade him adieu, and ascended, the steps leading to the third story (Mount Rascal) in advance of the jailer, to be confined in a dark, unhealthy cell, there to await the caprice of one man. To describe this miserable hole would be a task too harrowing to our feelings. We pass it for those who will come after us. He little thought, when he shook the hand of his little companion, that it was the last time he should meet him for many months, and then only to take a last parting look, under the most painful circumstances. But such is the course of life!

Copeland had received notice to hold himself in readiness, as his vessel would be ready for sea the next morning. He was not long in getting his few things in order, and when morning came he was on hand, prepared to bound from the iron confines of the Charleston jail, like a stag from a thicket. As he bade good-by to his fellow-prisoners in the morning, he said, “This is my last imprisonment in Charleston. I have been imprisoned in Savannah, but there I had plenty to eat, comfortable apartments, and every thing I asked for, except my liberty. Never, so long as I sail the water, shall I ship for such a port as this again.” He requested to see Manuel, but being refused, upon the restraint of orders, he left the jail. It was contrary to law; and thus in pursuing his vocation within the limits of South-Carolina, his owners were made to pay the following sum, for which neither they nor the man who suffered the imprisonment received any compensation. “Contrary to Law.” Schooner “Oscar Jones,” Captain Kelly, For William H. Copeland, Colored Seaman. To Sheriff of Charleston District. 1852,

To Arrest, $2; Registry, $2, $4.00 To Recog. $1.31; Constable, $1, 2.31 To Commitment and Discharge, 1.00 To 15 Days' Jail Maintenance of Wm. H. Copeland, at 80 cts. per day, 4.50 Received payment, $11.81 J. D—, Per Charles E. Kanapeaux, Clerk.

God save the sovereignty of South Carolina, and let her mercy and hospitality be known on earth!