We will here insert a letter we received from a very worthy friend, who, though he had done much for the Charleston people, and been repaid in persecutions, was thrown into jail for a paltry debt by a ruthless creditor.  Cleared by a jury of twelve men, he was held in confinement through the wretched imperfection of South Carolina law, to await nearly twelve months for the sitting of the “Appeal Court,” more to appease the vindictiveness of his enemies than to satisfy justice, for it was well understood that he did not owe the debt.  His letter speaks for itself.  Charleston Jail, March 31, ’52.

My dear friend,—­I could not account for your absence during the last few days, until this morning, when Mr. F***** called upon me for a few moments, and from him I learnt that you had been quite unwell.  If you are about to-morrow, do call upon me; for a more dreary place, or one where less regard is paid to the calls of humanity, cannot be found among the nations of the earth.

Such is the ordinary condition of suffering within this establishment, that men, and even women, are forced to all kinds of extremes to sustain life; and, to speak what experience has taught me, crime is more increased than reduced by this wretched system.  There seems to be little distinction among the prisoners, and no means to observe it, except in what is called Mount Rascal on the third story.  Pilfering is so common, that you cannot leave your room without locking your door.  The jailer is a good, kind-hearted old man, very often giving from his own table to relieve the wants of debtors, many of whom repay him with ingratitude.  I have suffered many privations from shipwreck and cold, but never until I came to South Carolina was I compelled to endure imprisonment and subsist several days upon bread and water.

Talk about chivalry and hospitality!  How many men could join with me and ask, “Where is it?” But why should I demur, when I see those abroad who have been driven from this State to seek bread; when I hear the many voices without tell of struggling to live, for want of system in mechanical employment, and when I look upon several within these sombre walls who are even worse than me.  Here is a physician, with a wife and large family, committed for a debt which he was unable to pay.  His father’s name stands among the foremost of the State—­a General of distinction, who offered his life for her in time of war, and whose name honors her triumphs, and has since graced the councils of state.

General Hammond, whose name occupies such a conspicuous place in the military history of South Carolina.  The father’s enthusiasm for his country’s cause led him to sacrifice his all, and by it he entailed misfortune upon his descendants.  When I consider the case of Shannon, whose eleven years and seven months’ imprisonment for debt, as it was called, but which eventually proved to be a question turning upon technicalities of law, gave him, body and soul,