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show fight to the cruisers are to be treated with the utmost rigor of the law; but this is never enforced, from the fact that the English get no prize-money for the capture of pirates. In the month of January, 1848, Ī boarded a felucca off the Gallinas, a well-known slave-mart, to the northward of Liberia, that had beaten off two attacks of the boats of H. M. brigs Philomel and Rapid, and had been captured, after a severe contest and much bloodshed, by the arrival of a reïnforcement of other boats from a cruiser whose name I have forgotten, and who had captured her in connection with the first-named boats by mere force of numbers alone. When I went on board, the decks were still drenched with blood, which was standing in pools in the scuppers; for the slavers had fought with the desperation of madmen, and beside losing one half of their own men, had killed and wounded a number of Englishmen of the attacking party. The day was beautiful, but the most intense calm prevailed; and completely worn out with our five hours' pull in the burning sun, such as one experiences only in Africa, we went on board the Philomel, which had arrived on the spot after the capture, and there saw those of the pirates who had survived. They were all heavily ironed and placed in gangs on the main hatch, and a more cut-throat looking set of scoundrels I never had the satisfaction of seeing. We, of course, supposed that they would be taken at once to Sierra Leone, tried, condemned and executed; but what was our surprise to hear, in answer to the inquiry as to what disposition would be made of them, that they would be put on shore as soon as convenient, and the felucca alone be taken to Sierra Leone : ‘for,' said our informant,

should we try these fellows as pirates, we get no prize-money; and although the division of prize-money from so small a vessel as this felucca will amount to but little, still, should she be condemned as a pirate, it would at once establish a precedent which we should in future be obliged to follow, and which would greatly reduce our prize-money, for all the vessels we take now make more or less resistance.'

So long, then, as English naval officers look upon the African squadron for the suppression of the slave-trade in a money-making point of view, no possible good can result from its presence there. I have been informed that the last commanding officer of that squadron received, on his return to England, eighteen thousand pounds sterling as his share of the prize-money resulting from captures made by vessels under his command during a little more than two years; and very few of the officers who remain there an entire cruise have reason to regret it, notwithstanding what they say of the deadly climate and dreadful privations they have undergone, when they return. There is no denying the fact, in spite of the last report on the subject in the British House of Commons, the garbled and incredible statements of colonization societies, missionaries, and a certain reverend government agent who not long since made a flying visit to Liberia and a very lengthy and improbable report on his return, that the slave-trade on the coast of Africa is as flourishing at the present time as it was ten years ago. The present system of suppression' is a sure and certain premium on the price of a slave in the Brazils and Cuba. A little wholesoine hanging at the yardarm would have effected suppression years ago, and it is not too late to try it now. No one who has seen a slaver with a full cargo on board, or

who has heard such a thing truthfully described, would lift his finger or utter a syllable to prevent the infliction of such a summary punishment on all connected with her, should they take nothing stronger even than a law against cruelty to animals as an authority. It is therefore to be hoped that the day is not far distant, when the love of prize-money will give way to the establishment of such a system of treatment, that no man valuing his neck will dare to carry a slave from the cost of Africa.

I am no abolitionist, although a northern man. I look upon the institution of slavery in the United States as a great curse entailed upon us by our forefathers, but for which the present slave-holders are in no wise responsible, and which they would have done their best to rid themselves of long ago, had they not been goaded into a state of frenzy by the intemperate and outrageous attacks of northern fanatics; men who have never effected one solitary good measure or law for the benefit of slaves or freemen.

But none will cry out, be he slave-holder, abolitionist or free-soiler, against the punishment which I have suggested as the only means of suppressing the slave-trade in Africa; and as Brazil

, by treaty with England, has declared it piracy for her own vessels to be engaged in it, nothing is now wanting to prevent the system being carried at once into operation.

As we anchored late in the afternoon, no natives were to be seen on the beach nor on the river, and, as is the custom, we fired a couple of signal guns to let the blacks know up the river that a vessel had arrived wishing to trade; and early next morning we were surrounded by shoals of canoes of all sizes, each one carrying several Congoes with large stocks of poultry, fruits and vegetables, all anxious to trade with “ 'Merican men.' Bottles, buttons and pieces of gay-colored calicoes were in great demand, these poor natives not having learned the value of the almighty dollar. Monkeys and great numbers of gray parrots were brought alongside, and the crew speedily proceeded to exchange old jackets, shirts, etc., for these birds, which are, I think, of a finer breed here than at any other place on the coast, except ng Cabenda. I made one purchase myself, which, in the end, turned out rather unprofitably, of some young animals, which our chief boatswain's mate, old Browning of 'Somers' memory, insisted were hyenas. Whatever they were, they made such a horrible noise the first night at sea that the captain, with a humane consideration for the nerves of all on board, ordered them to be thrown overboard ; and the next morning, when I went to visit my pets, I found them - not there! I shed no tears the heart becomes hardened on the coast of Africa; but I inwardly determined to make no more expensive researches into natural history. Soon there was a great commotion among the natives alongside, and loud cries of "King coming! King coming!' drew our attention to a larger canoe which shot out from a bend in the river, and soon His Majesty, attended by the heir-apparent, made his appearance on the deck of the vessel, the cynosure of all eyes.

He was a very old man, but quite erect in his bearing, with a beard well whitened with the cares of sovereignty, and a step as firm as a NorthAmerican Indian. He was dressed in an old uniform coat which some English officer had given him, a red skull-cap, and a fancy-colored piece of calico round his loins. He wore no shoes, nor have I ever seen a native on the coast who would wear them, excepting King Socco Trane at Cabenda, who, by the way, is a bit of a dandy. This Congo King's teeth and those of his son were filed like a saw, giving a most frightfui expression to the face when the lips were parted. This, he said, made them 'fetish,' which in African parlance means sacred or holy man. We found him able to speak a little English, and, like all other African kings, a most consummate beggar, as he went immediately to the captain on his arrival and annoyed him most unceasingly with impcrtunities for a dash,' or present. He spoke of the Congo people as being the greatest people in all Africa ; and probably, to his imagination, they were the greatest people in the world. He was very anxious that some of the officers should visit his town, some six or seven miles distant; and as this was an idea that some of us had already thought of, it found general favor, and

soon fitted out the first cutter and made arrangements for the trip. An account, of this, however, I must defer to my next letter.


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LANCELOT ANDREWS, Bishop of Winchester, eminent alike in ability, learning and virtue, died in 1626, Milton's eighteenth year. The plague, mentioned in this poem, is that of 1625, which had carried off almost thirty-six thousand inhabitants of London.

I sat alone in silence and in sorrow,
For melancholy days had long been mine,
When, like some winter-cloud that pours its hail
On blighted pastures, rose the sad remembrance
Of ills which wasting pestilence has brought
On this fair realm of England. Death has climbed
The lofty towers of nobles, bearing high
His black funereal torch; strong Death has entered
Walls starred with gold and jasper, and mowed down
Whole troops of satraps. I bethought me too
Of those in other lands whom all deplore,
Of BRUNSWICK's Duke, and MANSFELDT's valiant Count,
True brothers in great deeds, doomed each to burn
On his untimely pyre. I mused on heroes,
Brave men, whom warlike Belgium lost and wept;
But, grieving most for thee, thou sacred chief,
Once deemed of Winchester the light and pride,
With many a tear I breathed this vain lament:
'O Death, thou next in place to ruthless PLUTO,
Is it not then enough that the wide forest
Must feel thy wrath; that power to thee is given
Over the grassy meads; that, touched by thee,
The lily droops, the golden crocus withers,
The glad young roses fall? Wilt thou forbid

The giant oak, beside its own loved river,
To see the pleasant waters gliding by!
The birds, that range the waste and liquid ether,
Fate's airy prophets, fear thy bitter shafts;
To thee the beasts, that prowl in pathless woods,
And those mute herds that wily Proteus keeps
In sunless ocean caves, all trembling haste,
A countless multitude, and own thy might.
Why then, most envious one, tby sway thus ample,
Wilt thou yet stain those bands with human gore?
Why rudely pierce the good man's noble breast,
And chase afar a spirit half divine ? '

While thus I wept and wailed oppressed with woe,
The dewy star of eve looked smiling forth
From western skies, and the refulgent sun,
His journey from the glowing east completed,
Had sunk beneath that wide and stormy sea,
Which breaks on high Tartessus. Worn and sad,
I sought escape from pain in balmy sleep;
But, when still night had sealed my swimming eyes,
I roamed at large a broad and fruitful land,
A land whose rare and radiant loveliness
No words of mine can ever fitly paint.
That glorious realm was flushed with purple light;
As far-off mountains redden with the dawn,
And as when rainbows open all their treasures,
So blazed the ground with rich and varied hues.
Not with so lavish wealth did FLORA dress
The gardens of ALCINOUS, sweet Flora,
She whom the West Wind loved. Meandering there,
Rivers of crystal cleave the blooming plains,
Rivers whose sands out-flame the virgin gold
Which the dark Tagus hides beneath its tlood.
There the light western breeze for ever wanders
Through blissful vales, the soft and joyous breeze,
Born in fresh fields of roses. Such, they feign,
In the rich East, fast by the sacred Ganges,
Gleams the proud dwelling of the Morning Star.
While, with deep wonder, straying in the shade,
I mark the clusters on the laden vines,
And all that heavenly clime, behold, our lost one,
He whom we mourn, goes by me. From his brow
A strange effulgence beams; his long white robe
Flows, like a meteor, down to reach the gold
That sandals his bright feet; about his head
A snowy fillet shines, and, as he walks,
The turf grows fairer and the flowers rejoice.
Celestial hosts, with starry wings, applaud,
And the deep ether rings with the loud trumpet
Which tells of triumph gained. Each chief of Heaven
Greets his new brother with embrace and song,
While One, of loftier brow and grander aspect,
Speaks to the righteous stranger these sweet words:
• Come thou, my son, and share the lasting joys
Of this, thy Father's kingdom : be thou freed
Henceforth eternally from toil and pain.
He ceased: the bright troop beat their psalteries,
And at the sound my welcome vision fied.
I woke, and mourned for sleep too soon departed.
May dreams like tbis, O God, each night be mine!



The village of Innisfield lies in one of the loveliest valleys in NewEngland. Three densely-wooded hills, whose bases are only divided by the waters of Swift river, rise on either hand, shutting out the view of the adjacent country, save that to the northward, where the river winds its way into the valley, a crowd of blue hill-tops is seen, like the motionless billows of a distant sea; while above and beyond their vague outlines rises the grand Monadnock, like a faint blue cloud peering above the horizon. The stream, once rapid and violent, as its name indicates, now, as though sympathizing with the demure tranquillity around, reposes placidly between its banks; the soft-tinted green boughs of a growth of young white pines are mirrored in the silvery blue water upon one side, while a narrow strip of meadow slopes southward to the opposite bank, fringed with clumps of alders. A dam at the lower end of the valley accumulates the water into an irregular pond; and hard by,

BENEATH a bonny buttonwood,

The mill's red door swings open wide :' while below, the stream rushes furiously from the dashing wheel down its rocky channel, and after sweeping in swift curves beneath the watermaples, elms and white poplars, doubles the point of the south-western hill, and is lost from sight.

The meeting-house stands upon a green, which slopes to the pond in front, and is bordered in the rear by straggling trees that skirt the base of the northern hill. The spire seemed to my boyish eye a miracle of architecture — tall, symmetrical, graceful. Its outlines are seen in fine relief from the dark masses of foliage behind it. A gilded figure of a man impaled upon this taper spire serves for a vane. Its fickle revolutions upon gusty days, when the winds came frisking down the valley, used to engage my boyish wonder; for the figure, so perfectly self-poised, so ready to face the fiercest tempest, yet seemed to give a deploring wail as it swung round to face each new disturber of the valley's repose. A cruel emblem to hang over a Christian church was that man of the weather, shrieking as each rude breeze turned him upon the torturing pivot. To one passing the church-yard, under the sombre shadow of the hill, now thickly sown with the germs of immortal existences, those slow, lengthened sounds had a freezing terror. But when morning gleamed upon the sleepless watcher, and the birds that built their nests in the belfry carolled in the clear warm rays of the sun, or sat twittering upon the vane, like happy children at see-saw, its undulations seemed to partake of the vivacity of nature, and its querulous tone was modulated so as to blend with the cheerful music of the new day.

It was in the year 1790 that the simple incidents occurred which are here recorded. The country was in a transition state; though a foreign rule was broken, yet colonial habits remained. The young giant, so long

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