which is lost in the obscurity of patches. She wonders at her daughter pulling flax, or weaving, or turning a great spinning-wheel that deranges people's nerves sadly. Wonders, in a very kind and friendly way, why Farmer Ashfield can think of making such a slave of his daughter, and why, as he can afford it, he don't send her to one of the great boarding-schools in Philadelphia, to get a polish, and learn to despise her vulgar old father and mother. All these wonderments are, of course, wormwood to Mrs. Ashfield, who thereupon pulls Mrs. Grundy to pieces, when she goes away.

As to Squire Grundy and Farmer Ashfield, they have certain snug matters of dispute to themselves. The farmer insists upon it, at town-meetings and elections, that the squire enjoys greater political privileges than he does; that the country of Tuckahoe has more representatives in the legislature than it ought to have; that all Squire Grundy's negroes go to the polls and vote; that the seat of government ought to be removed, that the poor enslaved Cohees may not be toted all the way to Richmond to hear orations, and get justice; and that, finally, the squire gives himself such airs of superiority, that there is no such thing as getting along with him. On the other hand, Squire Grundy maintains that he pays more taxes than the farmer; that taxation and representation as naturally go together as whiskey and vagabonds; that not numbers but property ought to be represented; that his negroes are included in the number of voters because they are taxed; and that,

finally, the Cohees, not being able to comprehend all this, are a set of ignorant blockheads. The farmer says, "It is a dom lie;" and both parties are more convinced than before. The end of all this will be, that the Cohees will probably at last carry their point, and in consequence thereof, be just as well off as they were before.

I wish you would overcome write to me, addressed to

your vis inertia, and

where I shall be

on my return. I long to hear how Mrs. Kate makes head against the spots on the sun, which have frightened several women hereabouts into the spotted fever. The learned, I see, are hard at work about them, and ransacking the Encyclopedia famously. I wish 'em well. Of all people I know of, they are the most disinterested, for two-thirds of their time, at least, they not only labour without any reward, but without doing any good-which is very good in them. Good by.

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.