Death is not so terrible in aspect to these negroes as to the whites. In fact death itself is not so formidable to any man as the pageantry with which it is set forth. It is not death that is so terrible, but the cries of mothers, wives and children, the visits of astonished and afflicted friends, pale and blubbering servants, a dark room set round with burning tapers, our beds surrounded with physicians and divines. These, and not death itself, affright the minds of the beholders, and make that appear so dreadful with which armies, who have an opportunity of being thoroughly acquainted and often seeing him without any of these black and dismal disguises, converse familiarly, and meet with mirth and gaiety. The only cloathing of a slave is a simple woollen garment; it is given to them at the beginning of winter. And will it be believed, that the master, to indemnify himself for this expense, retrenches half an hour from his negro's hours of respite, during the short days of the rigorous season! Their ordinary food is indian corn, or rice and beans, boiled in water, without fat or salt. To them nothing comes amiss. They will devour greedily racoon, opossum, squirrels, wood-rats, and even the crocodile; leaving to the white people the roebuck and rabbit, which they sell them when they kill those animals. They raise poultry and hogs, but seldom eat either. They prefer selling them, and purchasing from their profits, cloathing and brandy. They love brandy to excess. Promise a negro a dram, and he will go through fire and water to serve you. Their smoaky huts admit both wind and rain. An anecdote offers itself to my pen on this subject, which will exhibit the frigid indifference of the colonists of Louisiana towards every thing that interests humanity. Being on a visit at a plantation on the Mississippi, I walked out one fine evening in winter, with some ladies and gentlemen, who had accompanied me from the town, and the planters at whose house we were entertained. We approached the quarter where the huts of the negroes stood. "Let us visit the negroes," said one of the party; and we advanced towards the door of a miserable hut, where an old negro woman came to the threshold in order to receive us, but so decrepit as well as old, that it was painful for her to move. Notwithstanding the winter was advanced, she was partly naked; her only covering being some old thrown away rags. Her fire was a few chips, and she was parching a little corn for supper. Thus she lived abandoned and forlorn; incapable from old age to work any longer, she was no longer noticed.