he said took place once in the Episcopal Church here, viz., a gentleman who had a powerful voice and generally led the responses, had his heart and mind so full of the luscious little animal, that by a sad fatality he substituted “Terrapin” for “Seraphin” in the response; and so far was any one from remarking it, that the whole congregation repeated the mistake after him.  The curly twinkle in the eye with which my friend told me the story, leaves an impression in my mind that it may be an exaggeration.

While here, I observed a play-bill with “The White Slave of England” printed on it, evidently intended as a set-off against the dramatizing of “Uncle Tom” in London, at some of our penny theatres.  Of course I went to see it, and never laughed more in all my life.

The theatre was about the size of a six-stalled stable, and full of rowdies, &c.—­no ladies; our party had a private-box.  The tragedy opens by revealing the under-ground of a coal-pit in England, where is seen a fainting girl, &c. &c.:  the girl is, of course, well licked by a driver; an explosion takes place; dead and dying bodies are heaped together, the driver says, “D——­ ’em, let ’em lie; we’ll get plenty more from the poor-house.”  These mines belong to a Lord Overstone; an American arrives with a negro servant, whom he leaves to seek his own amusement.  He then calls on Lord Overstone, and obtains permission to visit the mines; there he finds the girl alluded to above all but dying, and, of course, rescues her.  In the meantime, the nigger calls on Lord Overstone as a foreign prince, is immensely feted, the Duchess of Southernblack and her friend Lady Cunning are invited to meet his Royal Highness; the rescued girl is claimed as a slave by Lord Overstone; philanthropic Jonathan, after some difficulty, succeeds in keeping her, having first ordered Lord Overstone’s servants to the right-about with all the swagger of a northern negro-driver.  It appears that Jonathan was formerly a boy in the mines himself, and had conceived an affection for this girl.  Lord Overstone finds out that Jonathan has papers requisite for him to prove his right to his property; he starts with his family for America, to visit him on his plantation.  There the niggers exhibit a paradise such as never was; nearly the first person is his Royal Highness the nigger servant.  Lady Overstone faints when he comes up to shake hands.  Business proceeds; Lord Overstone bullies,—­Jonathan is the milk of mildness.  At last it turns out the girl is a daughter of Lord Overstone, and that the Yankee is the owner by right of Lord Overstone’s property.  He delivers a Buncombe speech, resigning his rights, and enlarging on the higher privilege of being in the land of true freedom—­a slave plantation.  The audience scream frantically, Lord and Lady Overstone go back humbled, and the curtain falls on one of the most absurd farces I ever saw; not the least absurd part being Jonathan refusing to take possession of his inheritance of 17,000l. a-year.  Truly, “Diogenes in his tub” is nothing to “Jonathan in his sugar-cask.”