boots. Obeying the imperative mandates of the host, the uproarious youngsters shortly divest him, with the help of the knife, of all his garments excepting his shirt.

By this time the evening is far spent, and the carriage, which has been previously ordered to take the guests back to the Bay, is brought to the door, and the youth who is to be the coachman appears in the room to let them know that all is ready for their return. The inebriate, who sits grinning in his easy chair in a state of maudlin helplessness, has just sense enough left to comprehend the import of this announcement. He has forgotten all about going to bed, concerning which he was so much in earnest a short while ago, and he takes it into his muddled head that he will go with them in the carriage. It is in vain that the middies and the domestics endeavour to reason with him, and prevail upon him to remain at home and go to bed. Rendered furious by anything like resistance to his imperious will, he storms and curses all about him; and bearing down all opposition, insists upon getting into the carriage just as he is, throwing away every article that is handed to him for covering, except his military cocked hat, for which, as the mark that distinguishes his high military rank, he seems to cherish a fond affection.

As time is pressing, and they must be on board at the appointed hour, which is now not far off, the middies cease from the vain effort to turn their host from his purpose, and scramble into the carriage, secretly delighted, no doubt, that the drunken obstinacy of the man has given such an unexpected turn to their frolic. They have not failed to light their cigars before taking their departure; and as they drive along, the helpless imbecile, rolling first to one side, then to the other, swings himself in contact with the lighted cigars, which sets him off in a fresh volley of oaths and imprecations upon "the mosquitoes, whose stings are so sharp." Capital fun this for the thoughtless middies, who enjoy it exceedingly. All the way they go they amuse themselves by making a gentle application of the burning end of the cigar to the naked legs of the poor, helpless,

tormented victim, who, supposing it to be the mosquitoes, pours forth fresh torrents of invective against them at every touch, while the true authors of the pain are convulsed with laughter.

As they draw near the end of the journey, they have to cross the bridge that affords access to the town in that direction. By some dexterous movement the cherished cocked hat gets jerked into the river, to the great dismay of the Negro driver and the indignation of his master, who curses the poor slave lad in his drunken blindness as the cause of the disaster, while it is in truth a freak of the frolicsome middies. By the time they arrive where the boat awaits them, the drunken man has sunk into a heavy sleep. They are sufficiently considerate to borrow a blanket from a neighbouring house, to cover and screen him from the cold land-breeze he will meet on his journey home; and they then commit him to the care of Peter, the driver, who has silently enjoyed the frolic quite as much as themselves. Peter grins almost from ear to ear over the silver coins with which the laughing middies have liberally rewarded his services. They jump into the boat, and in a few moments report themselves on board their ship.

The great man was full of indignation when, on the following morning, he became aware of what had befallen him through his ungrateful guests. For some time he was bent on seeking redress and having the youngsters punished. He was, however, made to see that it would be wise to hush up the matter, as exposure would be sure to bring upon him a flood of ridicule, and make him the laughing stock of the country. Besides, the middies had only obeyed his own imperative commands. The midshipmen's frolic, however, came to be widely known and talked about. Some spoke of "poetic justice," when they remembered the case of Damsel, that was so prominent a few months before; and others regarded it as a "righteous retribution," when they heard how the middies, in their thoughtless mischief, had treated the drunken slave-holder in a way so much resembling, in some respects, his own cruel treatment of his unfortunate slave.

XVI.

BENJIE AND JUNO.

Get up, you mulo, let's be goin',
Let's be scratchin' ob de grabble;
De postman's horn he long done blowin',
And we'se a good long way to trabble.

Negro Song.

T was several years before the sin and shame of British colonial slavery were done away, and while nearly a million of human beings lay crushed and groaning beneath the iron heel of the monstrous system, that a traveller on horseback was leisurely pursuing his way along the main road towards one of the seaport towns on the north side of Jamaica. It was during the forenoon, when the cool, refreshing sea breeze had come down, modifying the fierce heat of a tropical sun, and dissipating the languor caused by the overpowering sultriness that had prevailed two or three hours before. A few miles back on the road he had traversed, a Negro, mounted on a mule, and leading another of those animals laden with packages carefully covered up with tarpaulings, had passed him, travelling at the rate of some five or six miles an hour. At very short intervals, as he urged his mules onward with whip and spur, the Negro rider blew out loud notes from the cow's horn swinging round his neck. Thus he announced the arrival of the express post, and conveyed to the planters on the estates, and the residents of the villages near which he passed, the gratifying intelligence that the monthly mail packet from England had arrived at Port Royal, and their letters and newspapers from Home were now travelling to the usual post town, whither they might send and obtain them.

Several Negro boys mounted on mules, with leather-bags strapped across their shoulders, had also ridden past him, hastening to the Post Office, and riding as Negro boys love to ride, with headlong speed. At a turn of the road, as he ambled slowly on his way, the traveller came up with one of these sable equestrians, engaged in active strife with the animal he bestrode. Mulo had, all at once, after bringing her rider on swiftly and pleasantly for several miles, suddenly lapsed into one of those sullen, obstinate moods in which that description of animals—at least in the West Indies— is very prone to indulge, and in the most expressive manner of which she was capable entered a caveat against the further prosecution of the journey. She cared nothing whether the master on whose service she had been despatched obtained his packet letters in due time or not. Not so with her rider, a sharp-looking lad with face as black as coal, and teeth outrivalling ivory in their brilliant whiteness, and who appeared to be not more than nine or ten years of age at most. He knew very well that to return without busha's (overseer's) letters would bring upon him the fierce wrath of that formidable and important functionary, and entail upon him a severe castigation. He was therefore by no means disposed to give in to the mulishness of Miss Juno.

When the traveller came up, the contest was at its height, and he waited to see the issue. The lad was making good use of the single spur that adorned one of his naked heels, and vigorously applying the tamarind switch, which was made to do duty for a riding whip, to the sides and neck of his steed, grinning all the time with perfect good humour, as if he enjoyed the sport, and carrying on an animated conversation with the animal, as if she understood every word that he addressed to her. But the more he flogged, and spurred, and chattered, the more energetically did mulo protest against proceeding in the required direction. Taking the bit between her teeth, she ran to the right hand, rubbing her rider's foot against the wall. Then she sidled to the left, tearing the lad's clothes and scratching his flesh in the

logwood fence that bounded the road on that side. She ran backwards; she whirled herself round and round in numerous circles like a teetotum, and, in reply to the applications of whip and spur, threw her heels into the air, as if bent on pitching her rider forward out of the saddle. She would do anything but go forward. She would go in any direction but the right one. The lad kept his seat and his temper admirably throughout the lengthened contest, while the traveller looked on and greatly enjoyed the scene, both mule and rider being too much occupied to take any notice of him.

At length a truce was called. The Negro discontinued the use of the switch, and the mule ceased her gyrations, but with her fore-feet firmly planted upon the earth in such a manner as seemed to say, "I am determined not to go on." Placing his switch under his arm, the boy, still occupying the saddle, proceeded to hold a colloquy with the rebellious animal. "So, Miss Juno, you no want to carry me to de Bay, to fetch busha's letters from de Post Office ?" The mule gave a snort, as if to say, "That is assuredly my unalterable determination." "Berry well, Miss Juno, den we mus' see."

After a moment's hesitation, during which he was apparently thinking over the best means of escaping from the awkward dilemma in which Juno had placed him by her obstinacy, addressing himself to the mule, he said, “You no go, eh? Now, Miss Juno, me bet you one fippenny me make you go!" The mule gave a snort, probably of defiance, but which the boy chose to interpret as the signal of acquiescence. "Berry well, you say done. Me see now wedder me no make you go, and carry me to de Bay. You 'top here one little piece."

He then threw himself from the saddle, and pulling the rein over the animal's head, proceeded to make it fast to one of the dogwood bushes close at hand. This done he went to a narrow stream of water that ran across the road at a little distance. There he filled his pocket with a number of clean pebbles from the bed of the stream; and then he went to a