Open a scarcely distinguishable door, at the back of the ruffian who sits at the head of the table. Descend a narrow stairway, or rather ladder, which lands you in the darkness, some twenty feet below the level of the street. Then, in the darkness, feel your way along the passage which turns to the right and left, and from left to right again, until your senses are utterly bewildered. At length, after groping your way in the darkness, over an uneven floor, and between narrow walls; after groping your way you know not how far, you descend a second ladder, ten feet or more, and find yourself confronted by a door. You are at least two stories under ground, and all is dark around you—the sound of voices strikes your ear; but do not be afraid. Find the latch of the door and push it open. A strange scene confronts you.
The Black Senate!
A room or cell, some twenty feet square, is warmed by a small coal stove, which, heated to a red heat, stands in the center, its pipe inserted in the low ceiling, and leading you know not where. Around the stove, by the light of three tallow candles placed upon a packing-box, are grouped some twenty or thirty persons, who listen attentively to the words of the gentleman who is seated by the packing-box.
This gentleman is almost a giant; his chest is broad; his limbs brawny; and his face, black as the "ace of spades," is in strong contrast with his white teeth, white eyeballs, white eyebrows, and white wool. He is a negro, with flat nose, thick lips, and mouth reaching from ear to ear. His almost giant frame is clad in a sleek suit of blue cloth, and he wears a cravat of spotless whiteness.
His auditors are not so fortunate in the way of dress. Of all colors, from jet black to chocolate-brown, they are clad in all sorts of costumes, only alike in raggedness and squalor.
This is the Black Senate, which has met for business to-night, in this den, two stories under ground. Its deliberations, in point of decorum, may well compare with some other senates,—one in especial, where 'Liar!' is occasionally called, fisticuffs exchanged, knives and pistols drawn; and it embraces representatives from all parts of the Union. Whether, like another senate, it has its dramatic characters,—its low clown, melodramatic ruffians, genteel comedian, and high tragedy hero, remains to be seen.
The very black gentleman, by the packing-box—book in one hand and paper and pencil before him—is the speaker of the house. It is our old acquaintance "Royal Bill," lately from South Carolina.
"The genelman frum Varginny hab de floor," said the speaker, with true parliamentary politeness.
The gentleman from Virginia was a six-foot mulatto, dressed in a ragged coat and trowsers of iron gray. As he rose there was an evident sensation; white teeth were shown, and "Go in nigga!" uttered encouragingly by more than one of the colored congressmen.
"Dis nigga rise to de point ob ordah. Dis nigga am taught a great many tings by philosopy. One day, in de 'baccy field, dis nigga says to hisself, says he. 'Dat are pig b'longs to massa, so does dis nigga. Dis nigga kill dat pig un eat 'um—dat be stealin'? Lordy Moses—no! It only be puttin' one ting dat b'longs to massa into anoder ting dat also b'longs to massa:'—dat's philosopy—"