“Now, Drydez,” said Dunn, “if ye want to do the clean thing, put a couple of brandy smashes-none of your d—­d Dutch cut-throat brandy-the best old stuff.  Come, me old chuck, (turning to Manuel and pulling him by the Whiskers,) cheer up, another good stiff’ner will put you on your taps again.  South Carolina’s a great State, and a man what can’t be happy in Charleston, ought to be put through by daylight by the abolitionists.”

The Dutchman soon prepared the smashes, and supplying them with straws, put them upon the table, and seated chairs close at hand.  “Excuse me!” said Manuel, “I’ve drunk enough already, and should like to lie down.  I am unwell, and feel the effect of what I have already taken.  I am too feeble.  Pray tell me how far the prison is from here, and I will go myself.”

“Go, is it?—­the divil a go ye’ll go from this until ye drink the smash.  None of yer Portugee independence here.  We larn niggers the politeness of gintlemen in Charleston, me buck!” and seizing him by the collar, dragged him to the table, then grasping the tumbler with the other hand, he held it before his face.  “Do you see that? and, bedad, ye’ll drink it, and not be foolin’, or I’d put the contents in your phiz,” said he.

Manuel took the glass, while the Dutchman stood chuckling over the very nice piece of fun, and the spice of Mr. Dunn’s wit, as he called it.  “Vat zu make him vat’e no vants too?  You doz make me laugh so ven zu comes ’ere, I likes to kilt myself,” said Drydez.

A bright mulatto-fellow was now seen in the front store, making quizzical signs to the Dutchman; who understanding its signification, lost no time in slipping into his pocket a tumbler nearly half full of brandy and water; and stepping behind the division door, passed it slily to the mulatto, who equally as slily passed it down his throat; and putting a piece of money into the Dutchman’s hand, stepped up to the counter, as if to wait for his change.  “All right!” said the Dutchman, looking around at his shelves, and then again under the counter.

“No so!” said the mulatto; “I want fourpence; you done’ dat befor’ several times; I wants my money.”

“Get out of my store, or I’ll kick you out,” said the Dutchman, and catching up a big club, ran from behind the counter and commenced belaboring the negro over the head in a most unmerciful manner.  At this, the mulatto retreated into the lane, and with a volley of the vilest epithets, dared the Dutchman to come out, and he would whip him.

Dunn ran to the scene, and ordered the negro to be off, and not use such language to a white man, that it was “contrary to law,” and he would take him to the workhouse.