LETTER XI.

DEAR FRANK,

THE blacks form a distinguishing feature in the lowlands of the south; but diminish in numbers as you travel towards the mountains. They are of a great variety of shades,—from jet black to almost white. Indeed I have seen some of them who were still kept in bondage, whose complexions were rather lighter than their masters. I was much puzzled to account for these apparent caprices of nature in bestowing such singular varieties of complexion; but I soon found that she had good reasons to justify her.

The Negroes are in general a harmless race, although they are more apt than their masters to transgress the laws, partly I suppose because a great many things which are lawful to white men, are forbidden to the blacks. Being, in general, more ignorant than the whites of the poorer classes, they are of course more given to petty vices, and are, perhaps, not so honest. They seem, indeed, a gay, harmless, and unthinking race; for those who are likely to have few agreeable subjects for their thoughts, Providence seems kindly to divest, in some degree, of the capacity to reflect long on any thing. They are by far the most musical of any portion of the inhabitants of the United States, and in the even

ing I have seen them reclining in their boats on the canal at Richmond, playing on the banjo, and singing in a style-I dare say, equal to a Venetian gondolier. Then they whistle as clear as the notes of the fife ;and their laugh is the very echo of thoughtless hilarity. How would it mortify the pride of the white man, and humble his lordly sense of superiority, if it were indeed found, that these poor fellows were happier than those who affect to pity their miseries. And yet it is possible, and, from my soul, I hope it is so; for then I should be relieved from certain doubts about the equal distributions of Providence, that confound me not a little. They certainly are exempt from many of the cares that beset their masters,― and instead of being in bondage to the future, and slaves to their offspring, have every assurance, that the sons of their old masters will be the masters of their sons, and keep them, at least, from want. Then they dance with a glee, to which the vivacity of French peasants is nothing; and indeed enjoy, with a much keener zest than we, all those pleasures that spring from thoughtlessness of the past, and carelessness of the future. Their intervals of leisure are precious; for to those who labour hard, idleness is perfect enjoyment; and to swing upon a gate all day, is a luxury of which people who have nothing to do can form no conception. After all, indeed, the great distinction between the very idle and the very laborious is, that the first lack leisure and luxuries,-the last, appetite and employment. Don't mistake, and suppose that I am the advocate of slavery. But yet

VOL. II

I am gratified when I can persuade myself, that a race of men which is found in this situation in almost every Christian land, is not without some little enjoyments, that sweeten the bitter draught of slavery, and prevent its being all gall.

Until they can be freed, without endangering the community, infringing the established rights of property, and rendering themselves even more wretched, it is some comfort to see them well treated by their masters. And wo, wo to the man who adds one feather to the weight they are destined to bear. He shall assuredly meet the vengeance of the Being who is all mercy to the weak and the ignorant,—all justice to the wise and the strong. Wo to those who, tempted by avarice, or impelled by vengeance, shall divide the parent from its offspring, and sell them apart in distant lands! A cruel and inhuman act; -for it is seldom we see the ties of kindred or of conjugal affection, stronger than in the poor negro. He will travel twelve, fifteen, or twenty miles, to see his wife and children, after his daily labour is over, and return in the morning to his labour again. If he becomes free, he will often devote the first years of his liberty to buying their freedom;--thus setting an example of conjugal and parental affection, which the white man may indeed admire; but, it is feared, would seldom imitate. Farewell.

LETTER XII.

DEAR FRANK,

I HAVE now plenty of leisure of evenings; for Oliver has lately buried himself in Monsieur Cuvier's Golgotha, where he appears to be making a mighty shaking among the dry bones. It will probably not be long before he comes out upon me, with a head full of fossils, bones, and petrifactions, philosophizing upon them, as Hamlet moralizes upon poor Yorick's skull. In pursuing these studies he generally leaves me to myself, and my amusement is then to write you just what is uppermost. You must, therefore, forgive me, if I write without connexion, and sometimes put you out of patience.

If I remember right, I left off my last somewhere about the foot of the Blue Ridge. After this our ride lay along the banks of the Shenandoah, which commences its course northwardly, close by where some of the branches of James river begin their course to the south. They divide the waters of this great valley between them, and bear them through the Blue Ridge, the first in conjunction with the Potomac, the latter by itself. It was a pleasant ride along the foot of the mountain, sometimes crossing the little river, at others trotting on its banks, skirted with lofty elms. To the right was the mountain, to the left the

far-spreading valley, spotted with fine farms, and bounded on the west by another ridge of blue hills.

In the days of classical romance or Gothic superstition, when every grove, and stream, and lonely hill was peopled by nymphs, river-gods, dryads, fairies, and other queer curmudgeons, some of them of tolerable reputation, and others no better than they should be, this fair pastoral region would have been all alive with these small people. But, in this age of stern philosophy, the sprightly gambols of imagination are repressed by the trammels of science, and these airy creations of fear or fancy chased from their wonted haunts by cross old fellows, who explore the country to look for stones and -minerals, or spy out the proper location of a canal or rail-road. The rivers produce nothing but fish; the groves are only peopled with squirrels and woodpeckers; and the mountains contain no beings allied to poetry or romance, but the wild deer, and the huntsman equally wild.

The only authentic account of the appearance or agency of a fairy in our country, which I have ever met with, is in a letter in my possession, which I cherish as a great curiosity. You may recollect that during the last war, there was a great scarcity of flints in our army, and that a learned physician and philosopher, of New-York, was deputed to go in search of them, in the state of New-Jersey, where it was reported they were to be found in great quantities. In the performance of this duty he encountered the singular adventure related as follows: