regiment, to witness the scene. He saw it, and could hear what was said; and it is from his record of the event that this narrative is transmitted.

The provost-marshal read the sentence aloud; twelve men of the rifle brigade were then ordered up to the guns. The command was given that the prisoners were to be shot two at a time. Six soldiers were to fire at each man. The guns had been previously loaded; only two in each six had ball cartridges in them, and none knew which they were. of course, had to take the best aim.

All,

Two of those supposed to be the ringleaders were the first ordered for execution; the one a Protestant, the other a Roman Catholic. They shook hands with their respective ministers, and with their wretched companions. They were then led forward to the prescribed distance from the riflemen, and ordered to kneel down. They did so. A soldier then tied a handkerchief round one man's eyes, but the other exclaimed:

"Blind me not; let me look up as long as I can."

He would not submit to be blindfolded, but knelt and looked up to heaven, his fine pale countenance presenting a perfect picture of manly resignation. The tears fell from his eyes as the provost-marshal gave the word of command"Fire!"—and both were instantaneously dead.

Did not many a tear start from the eyes of those brave fellows who witnessed the scene? A soldier feels as much as a civilian, and it would be a false record which stated that even veterans did not weep. One of them, though he had nearly met his death by one of the deserters, wept as if he had seen his own brother shot.

All eyes were now turned to the provost-marshal, who was expected to pronounce the names of the two next culprits who were to suffer; but what was the surprise of every soldier to hear him read the following proclamation:

"Soldiers, you have been condemned justly as deserters, and have seen the execution carried into effect upon the bodies of your ringleaders; hear now the gracious pardon of the Governor. In the hope that justice has been answered, and that you will never again be guilty of such another crime, you are spared from death, and are restored to your respective duties. Go, repent, and live."

Description must fail in the attempt to portray the features of those lately despairing men. Some threw them

selves flat on the ground for joy, not knowing what they did. They embraced one another; they kissed each other; they went down on their knees, and sent up hallelujahs to the God of mercy. One poor fellow stood stock still, absolutely petrified almost to idiocy, and could not be persuaded, even by the chaplain, that he was pardoned, and was to live. All wept, and surely if angels joy in heaven over the souls of returning penitents, men may rejoice on earth, when they see mercy extended to their fellow-creatures.

It was indeed a most pathetic, and at the same time, consoling sight, to witness the ebullitions of hearts overflowing with gratitude. Blessed spirits overcharged with benevolence, weeping for the joy of doing good, and, at the same time, giving thanks to the Great Author and Fountain of all mercies, your hearts only can conceive the joyful feelings which then, in the midst of sorrow, animated the countenances of those, who both showed and received mercy and pity. No pen can do it justice. It was indeed a heavenly sight, never to be forgotten. The poor fellows returned to barracks, and received the congratulations of their former companions.

It was strange to mark the different manners of those men afterwards. But the soldiers were all marched in funeral procession past the dead bodies of the deserters, and were then dismissed to their respective quarters. A general joy diffused itself throughout the garrison and the town, and curiosity was stirring to become acquainted with the men who were pardoned. REV. R. COBBOLD.

SLAVERY.

O for a lodge in some vast wilderness,
Some boundless contiguity of shade,
Where rumour of oppression and deceit,
Of unsuccessful or successful war,

Might never reach me more. My ear is pain'd,
My soul is sick with every day's report
Of wrong and outrage with which Earth is fill'd.
There is no flesh in man's obdurate heart;
It does not feel for man; the natural bond
Of brotherhood is sever'd as the flax
That falls asunder at the touch of fire.

He finds his fellow guilty of a skin

Not colour'd like his own; and having power
T'enforce the wrong for such a worthy cause,
Dooms and devotes him as his lawful prey.
Lands intersected by a narrow frith
Abhor each other. Mountains interposed
Make enemies of nations, who had else
Like kindred drops been mingled into one.
Thus man devotes his brother, and destroys;
And, worse than all, and most to be deplored
As human nature's broadest, foulest blot,
Chains him, and tasks him, and exacts his sweat
With stripes, that Mercy with a bleeding heart
Weeps, when she sees inflicted on a beast.
Then what is man? And what man seeing this,
And having human feelings, does not blush,
And hang his head, to think himself a man?
I would not have a slave to till my ground,
To carry me, to fan me while I sleep,
And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth
That sinews bought and sold have ever earn'd.
No: dear as freedom is, and in my heart's
Just estimation prized above all price,
I had much rather be myself the slave,
And wear the bonds, than fasten them on him.
We have no slaves at home-then why abroad?
And they themselves once ferried o'er the wave
That parts us, are emancipate and loosed.
Slaves cannot breathe in England; if their lungs
Receive our air, that moment they are free;
They touch our country, and their shackles fall.
That's noble, and bespeaks a nation proud
And jealous of the blessing. Spread it then,
And let it circulate through every vein
Of all your empire; that, where Britain's power
Is felt, mankind may feel her mercy too.

Sure there is need of social intercourse,
Benevolence, and peace, and mutual aid,
Between the nations in a world, that seems
To toll the death-bell of its own decease,
And by the voice of all its elements

To preach the gen'ral doom. When were the winds Let slip with such a warrant to destroy?

When did the waves so haughtily o'erleap
Their ancient barriers, deluging the dry?
Fires from beneath, and meteors from above,
Portentous, unexampled, unexplain'd,

Have kindled beacons in the skies; and th' old
And crazy Earth has had her shaking fits
More frequent, and foregone her usual rest.
Is it a time to wrangle, when the props
And pillars of our planet seem to fail,
And Nature with a dim and sickly eye
To wait the close of all? But grant her end
More distant, and that prophecy demands
A longer respite, unaccomplish'd yet;
Still they are frowning signals, and bespeak
Displeasure in his breast, who smites the Earth
Or heals it, makes it languish or rejoice.
And 'tis but seemly, that, where all deserve
And stand exposed by common peccancy
To what no few have felt, there should be peace,
And brethren in calamity should love.-CowPER.

THE AFRICAN CHIEF.

Chain'd in the market-place he stood,

A man of giant frame,

Amid the gath'ring multitude

That shrunk to hear his name;
All stern of look and strong of limb,
His dark eye on the ground,
And silently they gazed on him,
As on a lion bound.

Vainly, but well, that chief had fought-
He was a captive now;

Yet pride, that fortune humbles not,
Was written on his brow.
The scars his dark broad bosom wore,

Show'd warrior true and brave;

A prince among his tribe before,
He could not be a slave.

Undo this necklace from my neck,
And take this bracelet ring,

And send me where my brother reigns,
And I will fill thy hands

With store of ivory from the plains,
And gold-dust from the sands."

"Not for thy ivory, nor thy gold,
Will I unbind thy chain;
That bloody hand shall never hold
The battle-spear again.
A price thy nation never gave
Shall yet be paid for thee;

For thou shalt be the Christian's slave,

In lands beyond the sea."

Then wept the warrior chief, and bade
To shred his locks away;

And, one by one, each heavy braid
Before the victor lay.

Thick were the plaited locks, and long,
And, deftly hidden, there

Shone many a wedge of gold among
The dark and crisped hair.

"Look! feast thy greedy eye with gold,
Long kept for sorest need;
Take it-thou askest sums untold—
And say that I am freed.

Take it; my wife the long, long day
Weeps by the cocoa tree,

And my young children leave their play,
And ask in vain for me."

"I take thy gold; but I have made
Thy fetters fast and strong,
And ween that by the cocoa-shade
Thy wife shall wait thee long."
Strong was the agony that shook
The captive's frame to hear,
And the proud meaning of his look
Was changed to mortal fear.

T