He was low of stature,
and exceedingly slightly made; his features were pale but very well
formed; he had a magnificent head of crispy black hair, and as
superb a pair of whiskers of the same colour as I ever beheld.
He
wore a white hat, with broad brim and particularly shallow crown,
and was dressed in a light yellow gingham frock striped with black,
and ample trousers of calico, in a word, his appearance was
altogether queer and singular. On my return from my ramble to the
cave, I found that he had himself just descended from the mountain,
having since a very early hour been absent exploring its wonders.
A man of the rock asked him how he liked the excavations. "Liked
them," said he; "you might just as well ask a person who has just
seen the Niagara Falls how he liked them - like is not the word,
mister." The heat was suffocating, as it almost invariably is in
the town of Gibraltar, where rarely a breath of air is to be felt,
as it is sheltered from all winds. This led another individual to
inquire of him whether he did not think it exceedingly hot? "Hot,
sir," he replied, "not at all: fine cotton gathering weather as a
man could wish for. We couldn't beat it in South Carolina, sir."
"You live in South Carolina, sir - I hope, sir, you are not a slave
proprietor," said the short fat Jewish personage in the snuff-
coloured coat, who had offered me the bitters on a previous
occasion; "it is a terrible thing to make slaves of poor people,
simply because they happen to be black; don't you think so, sir?"
"Think so, sir - no, sir, I don't think so - I glory in being a slave
proprietor; have four hundred black niggers on my estate - own
estate, sir, near Charleston - flog half a dozen of them before
breakfast, merely for exercise.
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