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