hymns. I am sorry for this exclusiveness; nevertheless, their hymns sung in quartette were glorious. It would be impossible to have more exquisite or better singing. They had note-books before them, and seemed to be singing from them; but my friends laughed, doubting whether they were for actual use. In the midst of the singing a cock began to crow in the house, and kept on crowing incessantly. From the amusement this occasioned, I saw that there was more in it than appeared. Nor was it in reality a cock that crowed, but a young negro from a neighbouring court, who being possessed of the cock's ability to crow, chose to make one in the concert.
After this, another young negro, who was not so evangelical as the rest, came and sang with his banjo several of the negro songs, universally known and sung in the South by the negro people, whose product they are, and in the Northern States by persons of all classes, because they are extremely popular. The music of these songs is melodious, naïve, and full of rhythmical life, and the deepest tenderest sentiment. Many of these songs remind me of Haydn's and Mozart's simple, naïve melodies; for example, “Rosa Lee,” “Oh, Susannah,” “Dearest May,” “Carry me back to old Virginny,” “Uncle Ned,” and “Mary Blane,” all of which are full of the most touching pathos, both in words and melody. The words, however, are frequently inferior to the music; they are often childish, and contain many repetitions both of phrases and imagery; but frequently amid all this, expressions and turns of thought which are in the highest degree poetical, and with bold and happy transitions, such as we find in the oldest songs of our northern people. These negro songs are also not uncommonly ballads, or more properly, little romances, which contain descriptions of their love affairs and their simple life's fate. There is no imagination, no gloomy back-ground,
