cured
around the waist with a string, made his only clothing. In truth, he had
scarce enough on to cover his nakedness, and that so filthy and swarming
with vermin, that he kept his shoulders and hands busily employed; while
his skin was so incrusted with dirt as to leave no trace of its original
complexion. In this manner he was kept closely confined, and was more
like a wild beast who saw none but his keepers when they came to throw
him his feed. Whether he was kept in this manner for his dark deeds or
to cover the shame of those who speculated upon his misery, we leave to
the judgment of the reader.

We asked this poor mortal what he had done to merit such a punishment?
He held his head down, and motioned his fevered lips. "Speak out!" said
we, "perhaps we can get you out." "I had no shoes, and I took a pair
of boots from the gentleman I worked with," said he in a low, murmuring
tone,

"Gracious, man!" said we, "a pair of boots! and is that all you are here
for?"

"Yes, sir! he lives on the wharf, is very wealthy, and is a good man:
't wasn't his fault, because he tried to get me out if I'd pay for the
boots, but they wouldn't let him."

"And how long have you been thus confined?" said we.

"Better than five months-but it's because there a'n't room up stairs.
They've been promising me some clothes for a long time, but they don't
come," he continued.

"And how much longer have you to stop in this condition?"

"Well, they say 'at court sets in October; it's somethin' like two
months off; the grand jury'll visit the jail then, and maybe they'll
find a bill' against me, and I'll be tried. I dont't care if they only
don't flog me in that fish-market."

"Then you have not been tried yet? Well, may God give that man peace
to enjoy his bounty, who would consign a poor object like thee to such
cruelty!" said we.

"I was raised in Charleston-can neither read nor write-I have no father,
and my mother is crazy in the poor-house, and I work about the city for
a living, when I'm out!" said he. There was food for reflection in
this poor fellow's simple story, which we found to be correct, as
corroborated by the jailer.

"Do you get enough to eat?" we asked.

"Oh no, indeed! I could eat twice as much-that's the worst on't: 't
wouldn't be bad only for that. I git me loaf' in the mornin', and me
soup at twelve, but I don't git nothin' to eat at night, and a feller's
mighty hungry afore it's time to lay down," said he.