“I claim the respect due a gentleman, sir!  A South Carolinian will transgress no rules of etiquette,” said George, grasping his tumbler in a passionate manner and smashing it upon the marble slab, causing a sudden emeute in the camp.  “Order! order! order!” was sounded from every tongue.  “You mustn’t be afeard, Captain,” said one of the party.  “This is perfectly South Carolinian-just the oscillating of the champagne; it won’t last long.”

The noise was more loud than ordinary, and brought a score of people around to hear the trouble.  George had got in high dudgeon, and it took several persons to hold him, while the remainder, not excepting the Captain, were engaged in a pacification.  The scene was very extravagant in folly; and through the kind interposition of friends, the matter was settled to the honorable satisfaction of both parties-the question was called for-the Captain called for a legitimate, rubbed his eyes, and little George proceeded.  “If my friend Thomas Y. Simmons, Jr., had been elected to the legislature he’d altered the position of things in South Carolina.  All these corruptions would have been exposed, and the disparity of party would have dwindled into obscurity.  Every true Carolinian voted for him to the hilt, but how was he defeated?  Gentlemen, can you answer? it will be a favor highly gratifying to me to hear your opinions!” A voice answered, “Because he wasn’t big enough!” “No, sir,” said George, “it was because there was intrigue in the party, and the Yankee influence went to put him down.  The world’ll hear from him yet.  He’s my particular friend, and will stand in the halls of Congress as great a statesman as ever lisped a political sentiment.”

George’s account of his particular friend, Thomas Y. S—­, Jr., was so extravagant, and not having heard of him before, the Captain’s curiosity was aroused to know who he was and where he resided.  We will not tax the reader with George’s wonderful memoir of his friend, but merely inform him that “little Tommy Simmons,” as he is usually styled in Charleston, is an exact pattern of Master George, with the exception of his mouth, which is straight and regular; and if we may be allowed to condescend to the extremes, we should say that the cordwainer had done more for his heels.  Otherwise, no daguerreotype could give a counterpart more correct.  Tommy is a very small member of the Charleston bar, who, though he can seldom be seen when the court is crowded, makes a great deal of noise without displaying power of elucidation or legal abilities, yet always acquitting himself cleverly.  Tommy was little George in two particulars-he had studied law, and was a great secessionist; and if George had never practised, it was only from inclination, which he asserted arose from a humane feeling which he never could overcome-that he never wished to oppress anybody.  But the greatest contrast that the reader can picture to himself between mental and physical objects existed between Tommy’s aspirations and