many a human being a lesson.

Those

Negroes who had received somewhat of instruction were the most orderly, and the most sensible of the change contemplated in their position.

Amongst these ranked the governor's Negroes. His excellency had arrived in the island at a critical time, and, sensible of the importance of his post, his own humane heart had dictated the rest.

The marquis had told his slaves that to work was no disgrace, but that to be riotous and idle was debasing and wrong.

How much a wise man can influence the ignorant and silly; how often love and respect are so sweetly blended together that, in receiving both, the man of riches, genius, or power feels only their value, because he reaps their interest in the good wishes of his poorer brethren.

The Governor of Jamaica found the island

full of malcontents; these were to be ap peased, without allowing them to perceive they were feared; ungenerous spirits were to be quelled, untamed minds to be enlightened; and, above all, the discontented proprietors were to be impressed with the belief that the King of Great Britain had acted in a manner worthy of the head of a great nation that nation a body of Christians. The Marquis of Sligo proved that a humane heart was the root of peace, and the peaceable manner in which the first of August was passed reflects honour upon the influence his voice had on the Negroes.

CHAPTER VII.

The circling hours, that swiftly wing their way,
And in their flight consume the smiling day;
Those circling hours, and all the various year,
Convince us nothing is immortal here.

FRANCIS'S Horace.

Whilst we are in the enjoyment of health, we often repeat, "in the midst of life we are in death;" but how frequently words are uttered which are not deeply felt or understood.

Persons who live near a church grow, at length, accustomed to the tolling of that bell which warns us that a soul has left its tenement of clay; that bell which might serve as a warning voice becomes, at length,

a sound scarcely heard; so much are we the creatures of habit. But a time was drawing near when Cunnington was to see the forcible lesson which sometimes so salutarily speaks to the heart.

Who can see the clay-cold hands of death touching the form, which a short time since beamed in health-who can watch the change of features, the nothingness of that which once moved in the pride of life—who can watch the searing hand of death, and not experience deep feelings of awe, resolutions of amendment, an inexplicable qualm of fear?

Cunnington knelt beside Alphonzo's deathbed; stricken with the fatal fever of the country, his eyes were closing in neverwaking sleep.

The seeds of genius were crushed in the bud,—the world was receding before him,the heir had sought the only kindred he

could claim on earth-had pressed his sister to his heart, and now he was dying.

The world and its pleasures faintly whispered a tale of regret; the fear of dying mixed with its rays of hope, a sigh for that which is of the world battled with brighter thoughts of blessings to come; but at length Alphonzo learned resignation.

The delirium of fever had passed away; that fearful time of illness when friends are not known, and imaginary foes conjured up; the warm sun shone on his pale face, so wan-so altered; who would have known Alphonzo di Lucia ?

It was an impressive lesson: death is at all times, even when the weak and suffering are released from their pain,-when life has been dragged on without enjoyment, and death comes without regret; but when the young are prostrate in strength,-oh, it is doubly mournful!