“Don't be bothering with your four dollars-sure ye a'n't in the West Inges now; and money's plenty in Charleston, and I can't bring up so much-half so much. Don't be bothering with yer West Inge nonsense. If ye try to raise a fuss here, I'll make the Captain suffer. Ye must learn that it won't do for a nigger to dispute a white man in Charleston; we'd twitch ye up by the same law; we'd put it to our own niggers, and ye'd git trised up, and about fifty paddles on yer bare butt.” The Dutchman put down a dollar and seventy cents, but Manuel refused to take it up; when this fellow, Dunn, pretending to be the friend of Manuel, held out his hand, and telling the bar-keeper to put another dollar, which he did, he passed it hurriedly into Manuel's hand, and making a pass, told him to put it into his pocket. It was now about good business time for the Dutchman, and his customers were coming in with their bottles and pots in great numbers. The place was a little filthy hole, very black and dirty, about twelve feet long, and seven feet wide, with a high board counter almost in the centre. The only stock-in-trade that decorated it, was a few barrels of lager beer; several kegs, with names to set forth the different qualities of liquors painted upon them; a bushel basket about half full of onions, and a few salt fish in a keg that stood by the door. Around the room were several benches similar to those in guard-houses. Upon two of them were stretched two ragged and filthy-looking negroes, who looked as if they had been spending the night in debauchery. Dunn, as if to show his authority, limped toward them, and commenced fledging their backs with his hickory stick in a most unmerciful manner, until one poor old fellow, with a lame hand, cried out for mercy at the top of his voice. “It's a bad business keeping these niggers here all night, Swizer-you know I've done the clean thing with you several times,” said Dunn, pointing his finger at the Dutchman; who winked, and coming from behind the counter, slipped something into his hand, and stepping to the door, assumed some threatning language against the negroes, should they ever came back to his store. A large portion of those who came for liquor were negroes, who looked as if they were parting with their last cent for stimulant, for they were ragged and dirty, and needed bread more than liquor. Their condition seemed pitiful in the extreme, and yet the Dutch “corner-shop keeper” actually got rich from their custom, and so craving was he upon their patronage, that he treated them with much more courtesy than his white customers.