crucifixion, and another of the
Madonna. After reading the chapters, they retired to their hard beds.
About nine o'clock the next morning, Daley came to the door with a piece
of neck meat, so tainted and bloody that its smell and looks more than
satisfied the stomach.

"Here it is, boys," said he; "yer four pound, but ye's better take soup,
cos ye'll niver cook that bone, anyhow."

"Do you think we're like dogs, to eat such filth as that? No! I'd rather
starve!" said Manuel.

"Indeed, an' ye'll larn to ate any thing win ye'd be here a month. But
be dad, if ye don't watch number one about here, ye's won't get much
nohow," replied Daley, dropping the bloody neck upon the floor, and
walking out.

"Better take it," said Copeland. "There's no choice, and hunger don't
stand for dainties, especially in this jail, where everybody is famished
for punishment. If we don't eat it, we can give it to some of the poor
prisoners up-stairs."

"While I have good ship-owners, and a good Captain, I never will eat
such stuff as that; oh! no," returned Manuel.

The meat was laid in a corner for the benefit of the flies; and when
dinner time arrived, the same hard extreme arrived with it-bread and
water. And nobody seemed to have any anxieties on their behalf; for two
of them had written notes to their Captains, on the day previous, but
they remained in the office for want of a messenger to carry them.
Fortunately, Jane called upon them in the afternoon, and brought a nice
dish of rice and another of homony.

We will here insert a letter we received from a very worthy friend, who,
though he had done much for the Charleston people, and been repaid
in persecutions, was thrown into jail for a paltry debt by a ruthless
creditor. Cleared by a jury of twelve men, he was held in confinement
through the wretched imperfection of South Carolina law, to await nearly
twelve months for the sitting of the "Appeal Court," more to appease the
vindictiveness of his enemies than to satisfy justice, for it was well
understood that he did not owe the debt. His letter speaks for itself.
Charleston Jail, March 31, '52.

MY DEAR FRIEND,--I could not account for your absence during the last
few days, until this morning, when Mr. F***** called upon me for a few
moments, and from him I learnt that you had been quite unwell. If you
are about to-morrow, do call upon me; for a more dreary place, or one
where less regard is paid to the calls of humanity, cannot