that were going on. By this time, nine-tenths of the blacks of the city,
and of the whole country within thirty or forty miles, indeed, were
collected in thousands in those fields, beating banjoes, singing African
songs, drinking, and worst of all, laughing in a way that seemed to set
their very hearts rattling within their ribs. Everything wore the aspect of
good-humour, though it was good-humour in its broadest and coarsest forms.
Every sort of common game was in requisition, while drinking was far from
being neglected. Still, not a man was drunk. A drunken negro, indeed, is by
no means a common thing. The features that distinguish a Pinkster frolic
from the usual scenes at fairs, and other merry-makings, however, were of
African origin. It is true, there are not now, nor were there then, many
blacks among us of African birth; but the traditions and usages of their
original country were so far preserved as to produce a marked difference
between this festival, and one of European origin. Among other things, some
were making music, by beating on skins drawn over the ends of hollow
logs, while others were dancing to it, in a manner to show that they felt
infinite delight. This, in particular, was said to be a usage of their
African progenitors.

Hundreds of whites were walking through the fields, amused spectators.
Among these last were a great many children of the better class, who had
come to look at the enjoyment of those who attended them, in their own
ordinary amusements. Many a sable nurse did I see that day, chaperoning
her young master, a young mistress, or both together, through the various
groups; demanding of all, and receiving from all, the respect that one of
these classes was accustomed to pay to the other.

A great many young ladies between the ages of fifteen and twenty were also
in the field, either escorted by male companions, or, what was equally as
certain of producing deference, under the dare of old female nurses, who