IN order to complete the four characters, as we designed in the outset, we must here introduce the persons whose names fill the caption. The time of their imprisonment was some two months later than Manuel's release; but we introduce them here for the purpose of furnishing a clear understanding of the scenes connected with Manuel's release.

John Paul was a fine-looking French negro, very dark, with well-developed features, and very intelligent,—what would be called in South Carolina, “a very prime feller.” He was steward on board of the French bark Senegal, Captain—. He spoke excellent French and Spanish, and read Latin very well,—was a Catholic, and paid particular respect to devotional exercises,—but unfortunately he could not speak or understand a word of English. In all our observation of different characters of colored men, we do not remember to have seen one whose pleasant manner, intelligence, and civility, attracted more general attention. But he could not comprehend the meaning of the law imprisoning a peaceable man without crime, and why the authorities should fear him, when he could not speak their language. He wanted to see the city-what sort of people were in it-if they bore any analogy to their good old forefathers in France; and whether they had inherited the same capricious feelings as the descendants of the same generation on the other side of the water. There could be no harm in that; and although he knew something of French socialism, he was ignorant of Carolina's peculiar institutions, her politics, and her fears of abolition, as a “Georgia cracker”

A sort of semi-civilized native, wearing a peculiar homespun dress; with a native dialect strongly resembling many of the Yorkshire phrases. They are generally found located in the poorer parishes and districts, where their primitive-looking cabins are easily designated from that of the more enterprising agriculturist. But few of them can read or write,—and preferring the coarsest mode of life, their habits are extremely dissolute. Now and then one may be found owning a negro or two,—but a negro would rather be sold to the torments of hell, or a Louisiana sugar-planter, than to a Georgia cracker. You will see them approaching the city on market-days, with their travelling-cart, which is a curiosity in itself. It is a two-wheeled vehicle of the most primitive description, with long, rough poles for shafts or thills. Sometimes it is covered with a blanket, and sometimes with a white rag, under which are a few things for market, and the good wife, with sometimes one or two wee-yans; for the liege lord never fails to bring his wife to market, that she may see the things of the city. The dejected-looking frame of some scrub-breed horse or a half-starved mule is tied (for we can't call it harnessed) between the thills, with a few pieces of rope and withes; and, provided with a piece of wool-tanned sheep-skin, the lord of the family, with peculiar dress, a drab slouched hat over his eyes, and a big whip in his hand, mounts on the back of the poor animal, and placing his feet upon the thills to keep them down, tortures it through a heavy, sandy road. The horses are loaded so much beyond their strength, that they will stop to blow, every ten or fifteen minutes, while the man will sit upon their backs with perfect unconcern. Remonstrate with them in regard to the sufficient draught added to the insupportable weight upon their backs, and they will immediately commence demonstrating how he can draw easier when there is an immense weight upon his back. The husband generally exchanges his things for whiskey, rice, and tobacco, while the wife buys calico and knick-knacks. Sometimes they get “a right smart chance o' things” together, and have a “party at home,” which means a blow-out among themselves. Sometimes they have a shucking, which is a great affair, even among the little farmers in Upper Georgia, where, only, corn-shuckings are kept up with all the spice of old custom, and invitations are extended to those at a distance of ten or fifteen miles, who repay the compliment with their presence, and join in the revelry. There are two classes of the cracker in Georgia, according to our observation, differing somewhat in their dialect, but not in their habits. One is the upper, and the other the low country, or rather what some call the “co-u-n-try-b-o-r-n” cracker. The up-country cracker gives more attention to farming, inhabits what's known as the Cherokee country and its vicinity, and is designated by the sobriquet of “wire-grass man.” would be of Greek. Like his predecessors in confinement, he fell into the hands of the veritable Dunn, without the assistance of his friend Duse, as he called him; but had it not been for the timely appearance of a clerk in the French consul's office, who explained the nature of the arrest, in his native tongue, Mr. Dunn would have found some trouble in making the arrest. Already had the officers and crew of the bark gathered around him, making grimaces, and gibbering away like a flock of blackbirds surrounding a hawk, and just ready to pounce. “Don't I'se be tellin' yees what I wants wid 'im, and the divil a bit ye'll understand me. Why don't yees spake so a body can understand what yees be blatherin' about. Sure, here's the paper, an' yees won't read the English of it. The divil o' such a fix I was ever in before wid yer John o' crapue's an' yer chatter. Ye say we-we-we; sure it's but one I wants. Ah! whist now, captain, and don't ye be makin' a bother over it. Shure, did ye niver hear o' South Carolina in the wide world? An' ye bees travellin' all over it, and herself's such a great State, wid so many great gintlemen in it,” said Dunn, talking his green-island Greek to the Frenchman.

“We, we! mon Dieu, ah!” said the Frenchman.

“Ah, shure there ye are again. What would I be doin' wid de 'hole o' yees? It's the nager I want. Don't ye know that South Carolina don't allow the likes o' him to be comin ashore and playing the divil wid her slaves,” continued Dunn, stretching himself up on his lame leg.

The clerk stepped up at this moment. “It's 'imself'll be telling yes all about it, for yer like a parcel of geese makin' a fuss about a goslin.” Mr. Dunn had got his Corkonian blood up; and although the matter was explained, he saw the means at hand, and fixed his feelings for a stiff compensation. The clerk, after explaining to the captain, turned to John Paul and addressed him. As soon as he was done, John commenced to pack up his dunnage and get money from the captain, as if he was bound on an Arctic Expedition. Dunn's eyes glistened as he saw the money passing into Paul's hand; but he was not to be troubled with the dunnage, and after hurrying him a few times, marched him off. He went through the regular system of grog-shop sponging; but his suavity and willingness to acquiesce in all Mr. Dunn's demands, saved him some rough usage. There was this difference between John Paul and Manuel, that the former, not understanding the English language, mistook Dunn's deception for friendship, and moved by that extreme French politeness and warmth of feeling, which he thought doing the gentleman par excellence; while the latter, with a quicker perception of right and wrong, and understanding our language, saw the motive and disdained its nefarious object. For when Paul arrived at the jail he was minus a five-dollar gold-piece, which his very amiable official companion took particular care of, lest something should befall it. Poor John Paul! He was as harmless as South Carolina's secession and chivalry-two of the most harmless things in the world, not excepting Congressional duelling.

As soon as he entered the jail and found that the jailer could speak French, he broke out in a perfect tornado of enthusiasm. “Je serai charme de lier connaissance avec un si amiable compagnon,” said he, and continued in a strain so swift and unabated that it would have been impossible for an Englishman to have traced the inflections.

The jailer called Daley, and telling him to take his blanket, the State's allotment, ordered him shown to his cell. Daley took the blanket under his arm and the keys in his hand, and Paul soon followed him upstairs to be introduced to his cell. “There, that's the place for yees. We takes the shine off all ye dandy niggers whin we gets ye here. Do ye see the pair of eyes in the head o' me?” said Daley, pointing to his blackened eyes; “an' he that done that same is in the divil's own place above. Now, if ye have ever a drap of whiskey, don't be keepin' it shy, an' it'll be tellin' ye a good many favors.”

“Ah! mon Dieu! Cela fait dresser les cheveux la tete,” said Paul, shrugging his shoulders.

“Bad luck to the word of that I'd be understandin' at all, at all. Can't ye spake so a body'd understand what ye'd mane?”

“C'est ma grande consolation d'avoir. * * * Les Etats-Unis est une modele de perfection republicaine,” said he, taking the blanket from Daley and throwing it upon the floor. He was but a poor companion for his fellow-prisoners, being deprived of the means to exercise his social qualities. He went through the same course of suffering that Manuel did; but, whether from inclination or necessity, bore it with more Christian fortitude, chanting vespers every morning, and reading the Latin service every evening. The lesson which Manuel taught Daley proved of great service to Paul, who gave Daley the jail-ration which it was impossible for him to eat, and was saved from his pilfering propensities. Thus, after John Paul had suffered thirty-five days' imprisonment, in mute confinement, to satisfy the majesty of South Carolina, he was released upon the following conditions, and taken to his vessel at early daylight, lest he should see the city or leave something to contaminate the slaves. “Contrary to law.” State vs. “Contrary to law.” French bark “Senegal,” Capt.—For John Paul, Colored Seaman. To Sheriff Charleston Dist.

July 18, 1852. To Arrest, $2; Registry, $2, $4.00” “Recog. $1.31; Constable, $1, 2.31” “Commitment and discharge, 1.00” “35 Days' Maintenace of John Paul, at 30 cents per day, 10.50

Recd. payment, $17.81 J. D—, S. C. D. Per Chs. E. Kanapeaux, Clerk.

A very nice item of disbursements to present to the owners-a premium paid for the advanced civilization of South Carolina!

We have merely noticed the imprisonment of John Paul, our limits excluding the details. We must now turn to a little, pert, saucy French boy, eleven years old, who spoke nothing but Creole French, and that as rotten as we ever heard lisped. The French bark Nouvelle Amelie, Gilliet, master, from Rouen, arrived in Charleston on the twenty-ninth of July. The captain was a fine specimen of a French gentleman. He stood upon the quarter-deck as she was being “breasted-in” to the wharf, giving orders to his men, while the little child stood at the galley looking at the people upon the wharf, making grimaces and pointing one of the crew to several things that attracted his attention. Presently the vessel hauled alongside of the dock, and Dusenberry, with his companion Dunn, who had been watching all the movements of the vessel from a hiding-place on the wharf, sprang out and boarded her ere she had touched the piles.

The “nigger,” seeing Dusenberry approach him, waited until he saw his hand extended, and then, as if to save himself from impending danger, ran aft and into the cabin, screaming at the top of his voice. The crew began to run and move up into close quarters. The issue was an important one, and rested between South Carolina and the little “nigger.” Dusenberry attempted to descend into the cabin. “Vat you vant wid my John, my Baptiste? No, you no do dat, 'z my cabin; never allow stranger go down 'im,” said the captain, placing himself in the companionway, while the little terrified nigger peeped above the combing, and rolled his large eyes, the white glowing in contrast, from behind the captain's legs. In this tempting position the little darkie, knowing he was protected by the captain and crew, would taunt the representative of the State with his bad French. Dunn stood some distance behind Dusenberry, upon the deck, and the mission seemed to be such a mystery to both captain and crew, that their presence aroused a feeling of curiosity as well as anxiety. Several of the sailors gathered around him, and made antic grimaces, pointing their fingers at him and swearing, so that Dunn began to be alarmed by the incomprehensible earnestness of their gibberish, turned pale, and retreated several steps, to the infinite amusement of those upon the wharf.

“Vat 'e do, ah, you vant 'im? Vat you do vid 'im ven zu gets him, ah? Cette affaire delicate demande,” said one of the number, who was honored with the title of mate, and who, with a terrific black moustache and beard, had the power of contorting his face into the most repugnant grimaces. And, at the moment, he drew his sheath-knife and made a pretended plunge at Dunn's breast, causing him to send forth a pitiful yell, and retreat to the wharf with quicker movements than he ever thought himself capable of.

“Il n'y a pas grand mal cela,” said the Frenchman, laughing at Dunn as he stood upon the capsill of the wharf.

“Bad luck to ye, a pretty mess a murderous Frinchmin that ye are. Do yees be thinkin' ye'd play that trick in South Carolina? Ye'll get the like o' that taken out o' ye whin yer before his honor in the mornin',” said Dunn.

Dusenberry had stood parleying with the captain at the companion-door, endeavoring to make the latter understand that it was not a case which required the presence of the silver oar. There is a prevailing opinion among sailors, that no suit in Admiralty can be commenced, or seaman arrested while on board, without the presence of the silver oar. And thus acting upon this impression, the captain and officers of the Nouvelle Amelie contended for what they considered a right. The mate and crew drew closer and closer toward Dusenberry, until he became infected with the prevailing alarm. “Captain, I demand your protection from these men, in the name of the State of South Carolina,” said he.

“Who he? De State Souf Ca'lina, vat I know 'bout him, ah? Bring de silver oar when come take my man. Il y a de la malhomme tete dans sou proces” said Captain Gilliet, turning to his mate.

“Avaunt! avaunt!” said the big man with the large whiskers, and they all made a rush at Dusenberry, and drove him over the rail and back to the wharf, where he demanded the assistance of those anxious spectators, for and in the name of the State. It was a right good vaudeville comique, played in dialogue and pantomime. The point of the piece, which, with a little arrangement, might have made an excellent production, consisted of a misunderstanding between an Irishman and a Frenchman about South Carolina, and a law so peculiar that no stranger could comprehend its meaning at first and as neither could understand the language of the other, the more they explained the more confounded the object became, until, from piquant comique, the scene was worked into the appearance of a tragedy. One represented his ship, and to him his ship was his nation; the other represented South Carolina, and to him South Carolina was the United States; and the question was, which had the best right to the little darkie.

The spectators on the wharf were not inclined to move, either not wishing to meddle themselves with South Carolina's affairs-wanting larger game to show their bravery-or some more respectable officer to act in command. The little darkie, seeing Dusenberry driven to the wharf, ran to the gangway, and protruding his head over the rail, worked his black phiz into a dozen pert expressions, showing his ivory, rolling the white of his eyes, and crooking his finger upon his nose in aggravating contempt.

“Shure, we'll turn the guard out and take ye an' yer ship, anyhow. Why don't yees give the nager up dasently, an' don't be botherin'. An' isn't it the law of South Carolina, be dad; an' be the mortis, ye'd be getting' no small dale of a pinalty for the same yer doin',” said Dunn.

A gentleman, who had been a silent looker-on, thinking it no more than proper to proffer his mediation, perceiving where the difficulty lay, stepped on board and introducing himself to the captain, addressed him in French, and explained the nature of the proceeding. The captain shook his head for some time, and shrugged his shoulders. “La police y est bien administree,” said he, with an air of politeness; and speaking to his mate, that officer again spoke to the men, and Dusenberry was told by the gentleman that he could come on board. Without further ceremony, he mounted the rail and made a second attempt at the young urchin, who screamed and ran into the cook's galley, amid the applause of the seamen, who made all sorts of shouts inciting him to run, crying out, “Run, Baptiste! run, Baptiste!” In this manner the little darkie kept the officer at bay for more than fifteen minutes, passing out of one door as the officer entered the other, to the infinite delight of the crew. At length his patience became wearied, and as he was about to call Dunn to his assistance, the captain came up, and calling the child to him-for such he was-delivered him up, the little fellow roaring at the top of his voice as the big officer carried him over the rail under his arm. This ended the vaudeville comique on board of the French bark Nouvelle Amelie, Captain Gilliet.

The dignity of the State was triumphant, and the diminutive nigger was borne off under the arm of its representative. What a beautiful theme for the painter's imagination! And how mutely sublime would have been the picture if the pencil of a Hogarth could have touched it. The majesty of South Carolina carrying a child into captivity!

After carrying John Baptiste about halfway up the wharf, they put him down, and made him “trot it” until they reached the Dutch grog-shop we have described in the scene with Manuel. Here they halted to take a “stiff'ner,” while Baptiste was ordered to sit down upon a bench, Dunn taking him by the collar and giving him a hearty shake, which made the lad bellow right lustily. “Shut up, ye whelp of a nigger, or ye'll get a doz for yeer tricks beyant in the ship,” said Dunn; and after remaining nearly an hour, arguing politics and drinking toddies, Mr. Dunn got very amiably fuddled, and was for having a good-natured quarrel with every customer that came; into the shop. He laboured under a spirit-inspired opinion that they must treat or fight; and accordingly would attempt to reduce his opinions to practical demonstrations. At length the Dutchman made a courteous remonstrance, but no sooner had he done it, than Dunn drew his hickory stick across the Dutchman's head, and levelled him upon the floor. The Dutchman was a double-fisted fellow, and springing up almost instantly, returned the compliment. Dusenberry was more sober, and stepped in to make a reconciliation; but before he had time to exert himself, the Dutchman running behind the counter, Dunn aimed another blow at him, which glanced from his arm and swept a tin drench, with a number of tumblers on it, into a smash upon the floor. This was the signal for a general melee, and it began in right earnest between the Dutch and the Irish,—for the Dutchman called the assistance of several kinsmen who were in the front store, and Dunn, with the assistance of Dusenberry, mustered recruits from among a number of his cronies, who were standing at a corner on the opposite side, of the street. Both came to the rescue, but the O'Nales and Finnegans outnumbering the Dutch, made a Donnybrook onset, disarming and routing their adversaries, and capsizing barrels, boxes, kegs, decanters, and baskets of onions, into one general chaos,—taking possession of the Dutchman's calabash, and proclaiming their victory with triumphant shouts.

They had handcuffed the boy Baptiste as soon as they entered the store, and in the midst of the conflict he escaped without being observed, and ran for his vessel, handcuffed, and crying at the top of his voice. He reached the Nouvelle Amelie, to the consummate surprise of the officers and crew, and the alarm of pedestrians as he passed along the street. “Mon Dieu!” said the mate, and taking the little fellow to the windlass-bits, succeeded in severing the handcuffs with a cold-chisel, and sent him down into the forecastle to secrete himself.

When Dunn's wild Irish had subsided, Dusenberry began to reason with him upon the nature of the affair, and the matter was reconciled upon the obligations that had previously existed, and a promise to report no violations of the ordinances during a specified time. Looking around, Dunn exclaimed, “Bad manners till ye, Swizer, what a' ye done with the little nager? Where did ye put him?—Be dad, Duse, he's gone beyant!” An ineffectual search was made among barrels and boxes, and up the old chimney. “Did ye see him?” inquired Dunn, of a yellow man that had been watching the affray at the door, while Dusenberry continued to poke with his stick among the boxes and barrels.

“Why, massa, I sees him when he lef de doo, but I no watch him 'till 'e done gone,” said the man.

Dunn was despatched to the vessel in search, but every thing there was serious wonderment, and carried out with such French naviete, that his suspicions were disarmed, and he returned with perfect confidence that he was not there. A search was now made in all the negro-houses in the neighborhood; but kicks, cuts, and other abuses failed to elicit any information of his whereabouts. At length Dunn began to feel the deadening effects of the liquor, and was so muddled that he could not stand up; then, taking possession of a bed in one of the houses, he stretched himself upon it in superlative contempt of every thing official, and almost simultaneously fell into a profound sleep. In this manner he received the attention of the poor colored woman whose bed he occupied, and whom he had abused in searching for the boy. In this predicament, Dusenberry continued to search alone, and kept it up until sundown, when he was constrained to report the case to the sheriff, who suspended Mr. Dunn for a few days. The matter rested until the next morning, when the case of the little saucy nigger vs. South Carolina was renewed with fresh vigor. Then Mr. Grimshaw, accompanied by Dusenberry, proceeded to the barque, and there saw the boy busily engaged in the galley. Mr. Grimshaw went on board, followed by Duse, and approaching the cabin door, met the captain ascending the stairs. “Captain, I want that nigger boy of yourn, and you may just as well give him up peaceably,” said he.

“Yes, monsieur,—but you no treat 'im like child wen you get 'im,” said the captain. Retiring to the cabin, and bringing back the broken manacles in his hand, he held them up to Mr. Grimshaw, “You put such dem thing on child like 'im, in South Carolina, ah? What you tink 'im be, young nigger, ox, horse, bull, ah! what? Now you take'e him! treat him like man, den we no 'struct to laws wat South Carolina got,” continued he.

Mr. Grimshaw thanked the captain, but made no reply about the manacles; taking them in his hand, and handing the boy over into the charge of Dusenberry. In a few minutes he was ushered into the sheriff's office, and the important points of his dimensions and features noted in accordance with the law. We are not advised whether the pert characteristics of his nature were emblazoned,—if they were, the record would describe a singular specimen of a frightened French darkie, more amusing than judicial. But John Baptiste Pamerlie passed the ordeal, muttering some rotten Creole, which none of the officials could understand, and was marched off to the jail, where the jailer acted as his interpreter. Being so small, he was allowed more latitude to ware and haul than the others, while his peculiar bon point and pert chatter afforded a fund of amusement for the prisoners, who made him a particular butt, and kept up an incessant teasing to hear him jabber. The second day of his imprisonment he received a loaf of bread in the morning, and a pint of greasy water, misnamed soup. That was the allowance when they did not take meat. He ran down-stairs with the pan in hand, raising an amusing fuss, pointing at it, and spitting out his Creole to the jailer. He was disputing the question of its being soup, and his independent manner had attracted a number of the prisoners. Just at the moment, the prison dog came fondling against his legs, and to decide the question, quick as thought, he set the pan before him; and as if acting upon an instinctive knowledge of the point at issue, the dog put his nose to it, gave a significant scent, shook his head and walked off, to the infinite delight of the prisoners, who sent forth a shout of acclamation. Baptiste left his soup, and got a prisoner, who could speak Creole, to send for his captain, who came on the next morning and made arrangements to relieve his condition from the ship's stores. The following day he whipped one of the jailer's boys in a fair fight; and on the next he killed a duck, and on the fourth he cut a white prisoner. Transgressing the rules of the jail in rejecting his soup-violating the laws of South Carolina making it a heinous offence for a negro to strike or insult a white person—committing murder on a duck—endeavoring to get up a fandango among the yard niggers, and trying the qualities of cold steel, in a prisoner's hand, thus exhibiting all the versatility of a Frenchman's genius with a youthful sang-froid, he was considered decidedly dangerous, and locked up for formal reform. Here he remained until the seventeenth of August, when it was announced that the good barque Nouvelle Amelie, Captain Gilliet, was ready for sea, and he was forthwith led to the wharf between two officers, and ordered to be transferred beyond the limits of the State, the Captain paying the following nice little bill, of costs. “Contrary to Law.” “French Barque Nouvelle Amelie, Captain Gilliet, from Rouen, For John Baptiste Pamerlie, Colored Seaman. 1852. To Sheriff of Charleston District. August 26th, To Arrest, $2; Registry, $2, $4.00”

“Recog. 1.31; Constable, $1, 2.31”

“Commitment and Discharge, 1.00”

“20 days' Jail Maintenance of John Baptiste Pamerlie, at 30 cts. per day, $6.00

“Received payment, 13.31 J. D., S. C. D. Per Charles E. Kanapeaux, Clerk.”

Thus ended the scene. The little darkie might have said when he was in jail, “Je meurs de faime et l'on ne mapporte rien;” and when he left, “Il est faufite avec les chevaliers d'industrie.”