me, whispered, 'Major, that girl is an angel! Mrs. W., overhearing this, rallied enough to whisper behind her hand, Fallen angel!'"

Even a scene like this did not disturb Dr. Plumer's equanimity, and, even here, he could utter exactly the right words, at the right time. Glancing through the window at the procession, and coming to my side, he said, solemnly, "Major Leland, remember, that all the time our Saviour was upon earth, he was a citizen of a subjugated country!" Our Clinton friends behaved like men, and we were not ashamed of them in any particular.

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'April 26th. I have, once or twice, mentioned negro convicts' in this Journal, as faring very roughly. But there is a notable exception, in the person of a dandified imported negro, from Beaufort, I think, who has been sentenced to so many months imprisonment, for stuffing ballot-boxes, making false returns, etc. His apartments are near ours, and furnished in a style to do credit to a first-class hotel. He has there several of the 'members chairs,' and two of the veritable $5 spittoons,' from the State House. He sometimes takes his meals in his quarters, but, generally, he is out on the streets from early in the morning till late at night. Says he is reading law with one of the sable practitionersElliott, perhaps. Take either one of our friends, in his cell down stairs, and this fellow in his room upstairs, and we have a very good illustration of the state of things outside too, particularly as the white man is only under a 'charge,' and 'malicious,' at that, and the negro is already tried and convicted!

"April 27th. Our roll is dwindling very fast. Since the Clinton men left, in a body, our village prisoners have become much reduced in force. Called before the Commissioner very often-fees, $2 each for each hearing-they have successively been allowed bail till the November term, until our number is reduced to four. These are Capt. McCarley, Dr. McCoy, Dr. Black, and myself. Even with this small number, we are still separated, Drs. McCoy and Black being still confined to the corridors down stairs. Beverly Potter was the last to leave us to-day. I miss him very much. I regard him as true a man as ever went to a Ku-Klux jail, or kept out of it, either. His goodness of heart is unfailing. When that poor creature, West, was so ill, and the ladies could not be with him at night, Potter sat by his bed-side three nights in succession, watching over him, and nursing him as faithfully as ever mother watched and nursed her offspring. In the mess, he was always making sacrifices for the benefit of others, even in the culinary department. He was rather prolix in telling a story, but I wish he was here to-night to tell me another."

CHAPTER TENTH.

JOURNAL CONCLUDED.

April 28th. We heard from the Clinton delegation to-day, and they informed us that they had rather a rough time of it going down. After they had been paraded through the streets of Columbia, in handcuffs, they were locked up in the same car, with the colored witnesses against them, including the famous 'Ferguson.' Arrived in Charleston, they were marched a mile and a half through the streets to the 'House of Correction,' formerly known as the 'Sugar-House.' But kind friends were awaiting their arrival, and they were faring now even more sumptuously than they had done in Columbia.

"Under the inspiration of this letter, I immediately sat down, and penned the following doggerel lines, addressed to Sim. Pearson. Its insertion here is only excusable on the same ground that Dr. Johnson professed himself pleased with the dancing-dog-' not that the dog danced so well, but that the dog could dance at all?

My dear friend Simeon,

I have the opinion,

Your motto is now grown bigger;

"Whatever is, is right!"

"Let it come day or night,

From heaven. earth or hell, man or nigger."

When I saw you hand-cuff'd,

I thought now he is bluff'd,

No chance, now, to show the "Old Rebel;"
But, as if led out to dance,

You seemed seeking this chance

To spite both Joe Crews and the debble.

In this right down hard luck,

I admired your pluck,

And will publish it home and abroad;

Let man do his worst,

Though with rage he may burst,

"Old Sim❞ mocks them, with strength fresh from Gol.

April 30th. The Captain and I have had to apologise to our friends, both ladies and gentlemen, for trespassing on their kindness and hospitality so long, quoting the language of Charles II. on his death-bed, that he was an unconscionable long time in dying, and he hoped his friends would excuse him, as he would never do so again. Their reply was that they had had their jail visits as a part of the programme for each day, for so many weeks, that they would feel at a loss when we left, and would miss the excitement and the stimulus to patriotism and good works. The Captain and I, " true yoke fellows," are the only occupants of our large room. From the morn

ing of our arrest to this pleasant afternoon we have never been out of the reach of each other's voices, excepting when I went to Church, through his kindness. I can safely say that in all these days, nights and weeks no unpleasant word, act, or look has ever passed between us. Neither one of us is remarkably good-natured at home, but our temperaments seem to be exactly fitted to one another in jail.

It is astonishing how human nature can accommodate itself to any change of circumstances, however violent the transition may at first appear. Here I have been in jail for one whole month, on a charge of