OF a bright morning, not many days after Pringle Blowers returned with his fair slave to Charleston (which said slave he would not sell for gold), there sat on a little bench at the entrance gate of the "upper workhouse," the brusque figure of a man, whose coarse and firmly knit frame, to which were added hard and weather-stained features, indicated his having seen some fifty summers. But, if he was brusque of figure and coarse of deportment, he had a good soft heart in the right place; nor did he fail to exercise its virtues while pursuing the duties of a repulsive profession; albeit, he was keeper of the establishment, and superintended all punishments. Leisurely he smoked of a black pipe; and with shirt sleeves rolled up, a grey felt hat almost covering his dark, flashing eyes, and his arms easily folded, did he seem contemplating the calm loveliness of morning. Now he exhaled the curling fume, then scanned away over the bright landscape to the east, and again cast curious glances up and down the broad road stretching in front of his prison to the north and south. It was not long before a carriage and pair appeared on the hill to the south, advancing at a slow pace towards the city. The keeper's keen eye rested upon it intently, as it neared, bearing in a back seat what seemed to be a lady fine of figure and deportment; while on the front drove a figure of great rotundity, the broad, full face shining out like a ripe pumpkin in a sun shower. "It's Pringle Blowers, I do believe in my soul! but it's seeming strange how he's got a lady to ride with him," mused the man, who, still watching the approach, had quite forgotten the escape of the fair slave. The man was not mistaken, for as he touched his hat, on the carriage arriving opposite the gate, it halted, and there, sure enough, was our valiant democrat, who, placing his whip in the socket, crooked his finger and beckoned the keeper. "Broadman!" said he, (for that was the man's name) "I'ze a bit of something in your way of business this morning." The honest functionary, with seeming surprise, again touching his hat as he approached the vehicle, replied: "Your servant, sir!" Blowers motioned his hand to the woman, whose tears were now, to Broadman's surprise, seen coursing down her pale cheeks. To use a vulgar phrase, Broadman was entirely "taken aback" by the singularity of Blowers' manner; for the woman, whose dress and deportment the honest man conceived to be nothing less than that of a lady of one of the "first families," obeying the motion, began to descend from the carriage. "Now, Broadman," continued Blowers, arranging his reins, and with clumsy air making his descent over the fore wheels, "take that 'ar wench o' mine, and, by the State's custom, give her the extent of the law, well laid on."

The author here writes the incident as given by the prison-keeper. The man hesitated, as if doubting his senses; rather would he have been courteous to what he still viewed as a lady, than extend his rude hand to lead her away.

"Pardon me, Sir! but you cannot mean what you say," nervously spoke the man, as in doubt he exchanged glances first with the fair woman and then with Blowers. "I means just what I says," returned that gentleman, peremptorily; "you'ze hearn o' that 'un afore. She's a nigger o' mine, what runned away more nor six years ago; come, do the job for her, and no fussing over't." "Nigger!" interrupted the man, in surprise. "Yes!" rejoined Blowers, emphasising his assurance with oaths, of which he had a never-failing supply, "that's the cussed white nigger what's gin me all the bother. The whiter niggers is, the more devil's in em; and that ar' one's got devil enough for a whole plantation; 'tisn't the licks I cares about, but it's the humblin' on her feelings by being punished in the workhouse!" The man of duty was now brought to his senses, when, seeing Blowers was inclined to relieve his anger on what he was pleased to consider the stupidity of a keeper, he took the weeping but resolute woman by the arm, and called a negro attendant, into whose charge he handed her, with an order to "put her in the slings." Soon she disappeared within the gate, following the mulatto man. And here we will again spare the reader's feelings, by omitting much that followed. Blowers and Broadman follow the hapless woman, as she proceeds through a narrow passage leading to the punishment room, and when about half way to that place of torture, a small, square door opens on the right, into a dingy office, the keeper says is where he keeps his accounts with the State, which derives a large revenue from the punishments. Into this does the worthy man invite his patron, whom he would have be seated while the criminal is got "all right" in the slings. Fain would Blowers go and attend the business himself; but Broadman saying "that cannot be," he draws from his pocket a small flask, and, seemingly contented, invites him to join in "somethin" he says is the very choicest. Broadman has no objection to encouraging this evidence of good feeling, which he will take advantage of to introduce the dialogue that follows. "Good sir," says he, "you will pardon what I am about to say, for indeed I feel the weakness of my position when addressing you, fortune having made a wide distinction between us; but judge me not because I am coarse of flesh, nor have polished manners, for I have a heart that feels for the unfortunate." Here Blowers interrupted the keeper by saying he would hear no chicken-hearted interpositions. "Remember, keeper," he added, "you must not presume on the small familiarity I have condescended to admit in drinking with you. I hold no controversies with prison-keepers (again he gulps his brandy) or their subs; being a servant of the state, I order you to give that wench the extent of the law. She shall disclose the secret of her escape, or I'll have her life; I'm a man what won't stand no nonsense, I am!" The keeper, rejoining, hopes he will pardon the seeming presumption; but, forsooth, notwithstanding necessity has driven him to seek a livelihood in his repulsive occupation, there is a duty of the heart he cannot betray, though the bread of his maintenance be taken from him. Blowers again assumes his dignity, rises from his seat, scowls significantly at the keeper, and says he will go put through the business with his own hands. "Good friend," says Broadman, arresting Blowers' progress, "by the state's ruling you are my patron; nevertheless, within these walls I am master, and whatever you may bring here for punishment shall have the benefit of my discretion. I loathe the law that forces me to, in such cases, overrule the admo- nitions of my heart. I, sir, am low of this world,—good! but, in regret do I say it, I have by a slave mother two fair daughters, who in the very core of my heart I love; nor would I, imitating the baser examples of our aristocracy, sell them hapless outcasts for life." Here Blowers again interrupted by allowing his passion to manifest itself in a few very fashionable oaths; to which he added, that he (pacing the room several times) would no longer give ear to such nonsense from a man of Broadman's position,—which was neither socially nor politically grand. "No doubt, good sir, my humble and somewhat repulsive calling does not meet your distinguished consideration; but I am, nevertheless, a man. And what I was about to say-I hope you will grant me a hearing-was, that having these two daughters-poverty only prevents my purchasing them-has made me sensible of these slaves having delicate textures. The unhappy possession of these daughters has caused me to reflect-to study constitutions, and their capacity to endure punishments. The woman it has pleased you to bring here for chastisement, I take it, is not coarse of flesh; but is one of those unfortunates whom kindness might reform, while the lash never fails to destroy. Why, then, not consider her in the light of a friendless wretch, whom it were better to save, than sink in shame? One word more and I am done" (Blowers was about to cut short the conversation); "the extent of the law being nothing less than twenty blows of the paddle, is most severe punishment for a woman of fine flesh to withstand on her naked loins. Nor, let me say-and here I speak from twelve years' experience-can the lady-I beg pardon, the slave you bring me!-bear these blows: no, my lips never spoke truer when I say she'll quiver and sink in spasms ere the second blow is laid on." Here-some twenty minutes having passed since the fair slave was led into the punishment room-Blowers cut short the conversation which had failed to thaw his resolution, by saying Broadman had bored his ears in spinning out his long song, and if he were unwilling to fulfil the duties of his office, such should be reported to the authorities, who would not permit workhouse-keepers so to modify their ordnances that black and white niggers have different punishments. "Nay, sir!" says the honest man, with an air of earnestness, as he rises from his seat; "follow me, and with the reality will I prove the truth of my words." Here he proceeds to that place of torments, the punishment-room, followed by Blowers; who says, with singular indifference-"Can do the job in five minutes; then I'll leave her with you for two, three, or four days or so. Then if she's civilly humbled down, I'll send my nigger fellow, Joe, with an order for her. Joe'll be the fellow's name; now, mind that: but you know my Joe, I reckon?" The keeper led the way, but made no reply; for indeed he knew nothing of his Joe, there being innumerable niggers of that name. As the men left the little office, and were sauntering up the passage, our worthy friend Rosebrook might be seen entering in search of Broadman; when, discovering Blowers in his company, and hearing the significant words, he shot into a niche, unobserved by them, and calling a negro attendant, learned the nature of his visit. And here it becomes necessary that we discover to the reader the fact of Rosebrook having been apprised of the forlorn woman's return, and her perilous position in the hands of Pringle Blowers; and, further, that the communication was effected by the negro man Pompe, who we have before described in connection with Montague at the time of his landing from the witch-like schooner. This Pompe was sold to Blowers but a few months before Annette's recovery, and acting upon the force of that sympathy which exists among fellow slaves of a plantation, soon renewed old acquaintance, gained her confidence, and, cunningly eluding the owner's watchfulness, conveyed for her a letter to the Rosebrooks. In truth, Pompe had an inveterate hatred of Blowers, and under the incitement would not have hesitated to stake his life in defence of the fair woman. Now, the exacting reader may question Rosebrook's intrepidity in not proceeding at once to the rescue of the victim; but when we say that he was ignorant of the positive order given the keeper, and only caught distinctly the words-"I'll send my nigger fellow, Joe, with an order for her!" they may discover an excuse for his hastily withdrawing from the establishment. Indeed, that my reader may withhold his censure, it may be well to add that he did this in order to devise more strategical means of effecting her escape.

And now, ye who have nerves-let them not be shaken; let not your emotions rise, ye who have souls, and love the blessings of liberty; let not mothers nor fathers weep over democracy's wrongs; nor let man charge us with picturing the horrors of a black romance when we introduce the spectacle in the room of punishments: such, be it known, is not our business, nor would we trifle unjustly with the errors of society; but, if chivalry have blushes, we do not object to their being used here. The keeper, followed by Blowers, enters a small room at the further end of the passage. It is some sixteen feet long by twelve wide, and proportionately high of ceiling. The pale light of a tallow candle, suspended from the ceiling by a wire, and from which large flakes of the melted grease lay cone-like on the pine floor, discloses the gloom, and discovers hanging from the walls, grim with smoke, sundry curious caps, cords, leathern cats, and the more improved paddles of wood, with flat blades. The very gloom of the place might excite the timid; but the reflection of how many tortures it has been the scene, and the mysterious stillness pervading its singularly decorated walls, add still more to increase apprehension. A plank, some two feet wide, and raised a few inches, stretches across the floor, and is secured at each end with cleets. About midway of this are ropes securing the victim's feet; and through the dim light is disclosed the half nude body of our fair girl, suspended by the wrists, which are clasped in bands of cord, that, being further secured to a pulley block, is hauled taut by a tackle. Suddenly the wretched woman gives vent to her feelings, and in paroxysms of grief sways her poor body to and fro, imploring mercy! "Nay, master! think that I am a woman-that I have a heart to feel and bleed; that I am a mother and a wife, though a slave. Let your deeds be done quickly, or end me and save me this shame!" she supplicates, as the bitter, burning anguish of her goaded soul gives out its flood of sorrow. Chivalry, forsooth, lies cold and unmoved-Blowers has no relish for such inconsistency;—such whinings, he says, will not serve southern principles. The mulatto attendant has secured the fall, and stands a few feet behind Blowers and the keeper, as that functionary says, laying his coarse hands on the woman's loins, "How silky!" The mulatto man shakes his head, revengefully, making a grimace, as Broadman, having selected the smallest paddle (reminding us of the curious sympathy now budding between the autocratic knout and democratic lash) again addresses Blowers. "I doubt, sir," he says, "if the woman stand a blow. Necessity 's a hard master, sir; and in this very act is the test more trying than I have ever known it. I dissemble myself when I see a wretch of fine flesh-a woman with tender senses, in distress, and I am made the instrument of adding to her suffering. Indeed, sir, when I contemplate the cause of such wretchedness, and the poverty forcing me to remain in this situation, no imagination can represent the horror of my feelings."

"We have no demand on your feelings, my man! we want your duty-what the state put you here to perform," interrupted Blowers, placing his thumbs in his vest, and making a step backward. Another second, and the attendant lighted a hand-lamp,—a sharp, slapping blow was heard, a death-like shriek followed; the flesh quivered and contracted into a discoloured and inflamed pustule; the body writhed a few seconds in convulsive spasms; a low moaning followed, and that fair form hung swooning in the slings, as the keeper, in fright, cried out, at the top of his voice, to the attendant—"Lower away the fall!" As if the fiend had not yet gratified his passion, no sooner was the seemingly lifeless body lowered clumsily to the floor, than he grasped the weapon from Broadman's hand, and like a tiger seeking its banquet of flesh, was about to administer a second blow. But Broadman had a good heart, the admonitions of which soared high above the state's mandate: seizing Blowers in his arms, he ejected him from the door, ran back to the prostrate woman, released her bruised limbs from the fastenings, gathered her to his arms; and with nervous hands and anxious face did he draw from his pocket the well-timed hartshorn, by the application of which he sought to restore her, as the mulatto man stood by, bathing her temples with cold water. "Ah! shame on the thing called a man who could abuse a sweet creature of fine flesh, like thee! it's not many has such a pretty sweet face," says Broadman, with an air of compassion, resting her shoulder against his bended knee as he encircles it with his left arm, and looks upon the pale features, tears glistening in his honest eyes. We might say with Broadman—"It's not the finest, nor the polished of flesh, that hath the softest hearts." But, reader, having performed our duty, let us drop the curtain over this sad but true scene; and when you have conjectured the third and fourth acts of the drama, join with us in hoping the chivalry of our State may yet awake to a sense of its position, that, when we again raise it, a pleasanter prospect may be presented.