south where the polite part is played by the negro.  Deacon Rosebrook and Elder Pemberton Praiseworthy, a man of the world, follow Marston into the room.  Marston is rather tall of figure, robust, and frank of countenance.  A florid face, and an extremely large nose bordering on the red, at times give him an aldermanic air.  He rubs his fingers through the short, sandy-coloured hair that bristles over a low forehead (Tom, the barber, has just fritted it) smiles, and introduces us to his friends.  He is vain-vanity belongs to the slave world-is sorry his eyes are grey, but adds an assurance every now and then that his blood is of the very best stock.  Lest a doubt should hang upon our mind, he asserts, with great confidence, that grey eyes indicate pure Norman birth.  As for phrenology! he never believed in a single bump, and cites his own contracted forehead as the very strongest proof against the theory.  Indeed, there is nothing remarkable in our host’s countenance, if we except its floridness; but a blunt nose protruding over a wide mouth and flat chin gives the contour of his face an expression not the most prepossessing.  He has been heard to say, “A man who didn’t love himself wasn’t worth loving:”  and, to show his belief in this principle of nature, he adorns his face with thick red whiskers, not the most pleasing to those unaccustomed to the hairy follies of a fashionable southron.

Times are prosperous; the plantation puts forth its bounties, and Marston withholds nothing that can make time pass pleasantly with those who honour him with a visit.  He is dressed in an elaborately cut black coat, with sweeping skirts, a white vest, fancy-coloured pantaloons, and bright boots.  About his neck is an enormous shirt collar, turned carelessly over, and secured with a plain black ribbon.  Elder Praiseworthy is of lean figure, with sharp, craven features.  The people of the parish have a doubtful opinion of him.  Some say he will preach sermons setting forth the divine right of slavery, or any other institution that has freedom for its foe, provided always there is no lack of pay.  As a divine, he is particularly sensitive lest anything should be said disparagingly against the institution he lends his aid to protect.  That all institutions founded in patriarchal usage are of God’s creation, he holds to be indisputable; and that working for their overthrow is a great crime, as well as an unpardonable sin, he never had the slightest doubt.  He is careful of his clerical dress, which is of smoothest black; and remembering how essential are gold-framed spectacles, arranges and re-arranges his with greatest care.  He is a great admirer of large books with gilt edges and very expensive bindings.  They show to best advantage in the southern parlour library, where books are rarely opened.  To say the Elder is not a man of great parts, is to circulate a libel of the first magnitude.  Indeed, he liked big books for their solidity; they reminded him of great thoughts well preserved, and sound principles more firmly established.  At times he had thought they were like modern democratic rights, linked to huge comprehending faculties, such as was his good fortune to use when expounding state rights and federal obligations.