“This is but a small portion of what constitutes life in Charleston, Captain.  We live for living’s sake, and don’t stand upon those blueskin theories of temperance and religion that Yankees do, and blame the Father of generations for not making the world better.  I never saw one of them that wasn’t worse than we Southerners before he’d been in Charleston a year, and was perfect death on niggers.  Yes, sir, it’s only the extreme goodness of the Southern people’s hearts that makes the niggers like them so.  I never saw a Northerner yet that wouldn’t work his niggers to death in two years.  D—­me, sir, my servants all love me as if I was a prince.  Have you ever been in France, sir?” said he, suddenly breaking off.  The Captain replied in the affirmative.

“Ah! then you can speak French! the most polished language known to refined society.  I wouldn’t part with my French for the world.  All the first families in Charleston are familiar with it.  It’s the modern gentleman’s curt-blanche to society here.  There’s no language like it for beauty and flexibility; but one must go to France and learn to acquire its grace and ease,” said he, in rapid succession, rolling out his words in imitation of a London sprig of the Inner Temple, and working his little mastiff mouth.

“No, sir,” said the Captain quaintly.  “I never stopped long enough in France to get hold of the lingo.”

“God bless me, what a misfortune! and can’t speak it yet, ah?  Why, Captain, if you wanted to court a petit‚ madmoselle, you’d be in a sad fix-she wouldn’t understand what you were talking about and would take your love-pledges for gammon.”

“You’re mistaken there, my good fellow.  Love grows on trees in France, and a French woman can see it. before you begin to tell her about it!” retorted the Captain, which brought a “Good! good! hit him again!” from the whole party.  At this, Master George commenced reading the Captain a disquisition upon the best mode of acquiring the French language.  Supper was brought-in old Tom Baker’s best flourish-and the party begun to discuss its merits with great gusto.  What the little, chivalrous fellows lacked in physical dimension, they made up in patriotic sentiment in behalf of the grand sove-reignty of South Carolina, which they continued to pour out until a late hour, every man backing his sayings by the authority of the great and wonderful Calhoun.

The Captain sat eating away, and seeming more disposed to enjoy the physical consolation of his supper than to elevate his ideas upon South Carolina’s politics.

“Now, Captain,” said Master George, in a very serious tone, after he had been striking his hand upon the marble table for more than an hour to confirm the points of his reasoning,—­“what is your opinion of the great question at issue between the Federal Government and South Carolina?  And what do you think of the Old Dominion? how will she stand upon the test-question?”