after, at Baker’s or the St. Charles’s.  It’s the way our folks live.  We live to enjoy ourselves in South Carolina.  Let the old wreck go to-night.”  The little fellow seemed so extremely polite, and so anxious to “do the genteel attention,” that the Captain entirely forgot the tenor of his conversation with the pilot, while his feelings changed with the prospect of such respectful attention; and yet he seemed at a loss how to analyze the peculiar character of his little, pedantic friend.

“You must not think me intrusive, Captain,” said he, pulling out his segar-pouch and presenting it with at Chesterfieldian politeness.  “It’s a pleasure we Carolinians take in being hospitable and attentive to strangers.  My name, sir, is—!  My niggers call me Master George.  Yes, sir! our family!—­you have heard of my father probably—­he belongs to one of the best stocks in Carolina—­owns a large interest in this wharf, and is an extensive cotton-broker, factors, we call them here—­and he owns a large plantation of niggers on Pee-Dee; you must visit our plantation.  Captain, certain! before you leave the city.  But you mustn’t pay much attention to the gossip you’ll hear about the city.  I pledge you my honor, sir, it don’t amount to any thing, nor has it any prominent place in our society.”

“Really, sir,” replied the Captain, “I shall do myself the honor to accept of your hospitable kindness, and hope it may be my good fortune to reciprocate at some future day.  I’m only too sorry that our wrecked condition affords me no opportunity to invite you to my table to-night; but the circumstances which you see everywhere presenting themselves are my best apology.”

“Oh, dear me! don’t mention it, I pray, Captain.  Just imagine yourself perfectly at home.  We will show you what Southern hospitality is.  We don’t go upon the Yankee system of Mr. So-and-so and What-do-ye-call-’um.  Our feelings are in keeping with our State pride, which, with our extreme sensibility of honor, forbids the countenance of meanness.  South Carolinians, sir, are at the very top of the social ladder—­awake to every high-minded consideration of justice and right.  We are not moved by those morbid excitements and notions that so often lead people away at the North.  Make no unnecessary preparation, Captain, and I will do myself the honor to call upon you in an hour.”  Thus saying, he shook his hand and left.

The pilot had delivered his charge safe, and was about to, bid the Captain good-by for the night.  But in order to do the thing in accordance with an English custom, that appears to have lost none of its zest in South Carolina, he was invited into the Captain’s cabin to take a little prime old Jamaica.  Manuel, who had somewhat recovered, brought out the case from a private locker, and setting it before them, they filled up, touched glasses, and drank the usual standing toast to South Carolina.  “Pilot,” said the Captain, “who is my polite friend—­he seems a right clever little fellow?”