Manuel Pereira; Or, The Sovereign Rule of South Carolina. F. Colburn Adams

fatal at the workhouse. They tell a pretty good story about the old fellow. I don't know if it's true, but the old fellow's rich now, and he does just what he pleases. It was that somebody found one of those little occasional droppings of the aristocracy, very well known among the secrets of the chivalry, and called foundlings, nicely fixed up in a basket.—It's among the secrets though, and mustn't be told abroad.—The finders labelled it, 'Please sell to the highest bidder,' and left it at his door. There was a fund of ominous meaning in the label; but Norman very coolly took the little helpless pledge under his charge, and, with the good nursing of old Bina, made him tell to the tune of two hundred and thirty, cash, 'fore he was two year old. He went by the name of Thomas Norman, the Christian division of his foster-father's, according to custom. The old fellow laughs at the joke, as he calls it, and tells 'em, when they stick it to him, they don't understand the practice of making money. You must keep a bright look out for him, Manuel—you'll know him by the niggers running when they see him coming.”

      The pilot now returned to the quarter, and commenced dilating upon the beauty of Charleston harbor and its tributaries, the Astley and Cooper Rivers—then upon the prospects of fortifications to beat the United States in the event of South Carolina's seceding and raising an independent sovereignty, composed of her best blood. The Captain listened to his unsolicited and uninteresting exposition of South Carolina's prowess in silence, now and then looking up at the pilot and nodding assent. He saw that the pilot was intent upon astonishing him with his wonderful advancement in the theory of government, and the important position of South Carolina. Again he looked dumbfounded, as much as to acknowledge the pilot's profundity, and exclaimed, “Well! South Carolina must be a devil of a State: every thing seems captivated with its greatness: I'd like to live in Carolina if I didn't get licked.”

      “By scissors! that you would, Captain; you ha'n't an idee what a mighty site our people can do if they're a mind to! All South Carolina wants is her constitutional rights, which her great men fought for in the Revolution. We want the freedom to protect our own rights and institutions—not to be insulted and robbed by the General Government and the abolitionists.”

      “Do you practice as a people upon the same principles that you ask of the General Government!” inquired the Captain.

      “Certainly, Captain, as far as it was intended for the judicious good of all white citizens!”

      “Then you claim a right for the whites, but withhold the right when it touches on the dark side. You'll have to lick the Federal Government, as you call it, for they won't cut the constitution up to suit your notions of black and white.” * * *

      “That's just the thing, Cap, and we can do it just as easy as we now protect our own laws, and exterminate the niggers what attempt insurrections. South Carolina sets an example, sir, of honor and bravery that can't be beat. Why, just look a-yonder, Cap: the Federal Government owns this 'er Fort Sumpter, and they insulted us by building it right in our teeth, so that they could command the harbor, block out our commerce, and collect the duties down here. But, Cap, this don't scare South Carolina nohow. We can show 'em two figures in war tactics that'd blow 'em to thunder. Ye see yonder!” said he, with an earnest look of satisfaction, pointing to the south, “That's Morris Island. We'd take Fort Moultrie for a breakfast spell, and then we'd put it to 'em hot and strong from both sides, until they'd surrender Fort Sumpter. They couldn't stand it from both sides. Yes, sir, they shut Fort Moultrie against us, and wouldn't let us have it to celebrate independence in. There's a smouldering flame in South Carolina that'll burst forth one of these days in a way that must teach the Federal Government some astonishing and exciting lessons. There's old Castle Pinckney, sir; we could keep it for a reserve, and with Generals Quattlebum and Commander, from Georgetown and Santee Swamp, we could raise an army of Palmetto regiments that would whip the Federal Government troop and gun-boat.”

      We have given this singular conversation of the pilot with a strange Captain, which at the time was taken as an isolated case of gasconade peculiar to the man; but which the Captain afterward found to harmonize in sentiment, feeling, and expression with the general character of the people—the only exceptions being the colored people.