dollars out of my pocket, and if I was to sue him for it, I could get no recompense. The next time you allow one to escape, I must place some other officer over the port,” said our man whom, we shall continue to call Mr. Grimshaw. “Sure I heard the same consul, when spakin to a gintleman, say that the law was only an abuse of power, to put money into the pockets of yourself and a few like ye. And whin meself and Flin put the irons on a big nigger that the captain was endeavoring to skulk by keeping him in the forecastle of the ship, he interfered between me and me duty, and began talking his balderdash about the law. Sure, with his own way, he'd have every nigger in the city an abolitionist in three weeks. And sure, Mr. Sheriff, and ye'd think they were babies, if ye'd see himself talk to them at the jail, and send them up things, as if they were better than the other criminals, and couldn't live on the jail fare,” said officer Dunn, who continued to pledge himself to the sheriff that the wharves should not be neglected, nor a hopeful English darky escape his vigilant eye. “For my own part, I think they're better off in jail than they would be on the wharf,” continued Grimshaw. “They're a worthless set, and ha'n't half the character that a majority of our slaves have; and instead of attending the captain on board, they'd be into Elliot street, spending their money, getting drunk, and associating with our worst niggers. And they all know so much about law, that they're always teaching our bad niggers the beauties of their government, which makes them more unhappy than they are. Our niggers are like a shoal of fish--when one becomes diseased, he spreads it among all the rest; and before you know where you are, they're done gone.” “They're not very profitable customers for us, Sheriff,” said Dusenberry. “We have a deal of watching, and a mighty smart lot of trouble after we get them fellows; and if we get a perquisite, it never amounts to much, for I seldom knew one that had money enough to treat as we took him up. These Britishers a'n't like us; they don't pay off in port and if the fellows get any thing in jail from the consul, it's by drib-drabs, that a'n't no good, for it all goes for liquor. And them criminals make a dead haul upon a black steward, as soon as he is locked up. But if these sympathizing fools follow up their bugbears about the treatment at the jail, they'll get things so that our business won't be worth a dollar. For my own part, I'm not so much beholdin', for I've made myself comfortable within the last few years, but I want my son to succeed me in the office. But if this consul of their'n keeps up his objections, appeals, and his protests in this way, and finds such men as his honor the district-attorney to second him with his nonsense and his notions, folks of our business might as well move north of Mason and Dixon's.”