has some selfish end in view; though, of course, I admit exceptions to this as to every rule. Poets tell us,

"Many a flower is born to blush unseen."

Very true; and let me add,

'Many a politician lives and dies unknown.”

Unknown to the carping cry of fame, because he never made high-sounding speeches ; but perhaps around his quiet grave orphans and widows drop their lowly tears; perhaps he has enjoyed through life the purest bliss -that sweet internal happiness, which the sparkling orators, who talk from the tongue and not from the heart, can never attain.

Motives of high moral rectitude actuated those worthy men who regarded slavery as disgraceful for them to sanction or allow. If they followed the glowing Canning, their numbers were required to make his example available; and had selfish voices mur

mured round the king, William the Fourth might perchance have halted in his humane intention. Every finger pointed, however, to one end, the boon of freedom.

It is more than probable that many West Indian proprietors would greatly have ameliorated the condition of their slaves before the bill had passed, had they known how much those unfortunate persons were suffering.

Dwelling in England, France, or Germany, indeed, every inhabitable spot in Europe, the proprietor of the west received, at stated periods, the produce of his rich lands; he read the letters which were penned by the person who had the charge of his estates; he heard that all was going on right; and, amidst the bosom of his own family, amidst every boon of earthly luxury,

what cared he for his slaves-for the lashfor oppression? When goaded by every pos

sible indignity, when weighed down by sorrow, the weary slave was induced by a more spirited companion to rebel-when the firebrand was mercilessly applied to beautiful mansions, when the ripe cornfields waved in towering flames, when grass, banana, and stately limes fell in the pileoh! then very shockingly appalling was the sight, but so were the sufferings those sons of revenge had experienced.

Revenge in a Christian bosom will cancel those bonds of kindred feeling, those links of humanity, which assimilate the man to his Maker; but when ignorance and barbarism are leagued with revenge, dreadful indeed is the sight. Dreadful! it is as appalling as the plague which desolated our unhappy country, darker than the fathomless grave, for there beyond it the bright rays of eternity shine. Revenge is the demon of sin. A Negro's revenge is pro

verbial-why is it so? Because his ignorance is equally startling. The voice of religion is afar from his heart; his soul languishes in the depths of ignorance. No ray of better things lighted until lately those benighted minds; no clear path shone in the dark wilderness of Paganism; if he were virtuous, he knew not from whence the aspiration sprung; if he were wicked where was the bright ray conducting to the sure haven of repentance through prayer? When the arduous toils of missionaries had at length been partially rewarded, when the seed of light sprung up on a more fruitful soil, when “ the way, the truth, and salvation” were felt, with what perspicuity the unlearned tongue expressed the primitive sense in which each Divine precept was taken, and though expressed in homely, sometimes coarse, language, a dawning sense of religion breathed throughout. As I before stated,

low upon bended knee the dark-hued multitude celebrated with thanksgivings the important first of August. This circumstance is well authenticated, and is worthy of record, for it is seldom a multitude celebrates an auspicious event in such a devotional manner.

A public dinner was given at Kingston, and a few ludicrously pronounced Negro speeches were made; speeches which would have sent Punch into ecstasies of mirth, but which a good old English parliamentary man would have called beautiful in their way. These speeches were at least replete with gratitude, and gratitude is a noble quality. The being who can receive a favour and not feel its kindness, lacks a spirit which, instead of lowering, would exalt his soul. The mastiff turning to lick the hand of the master who feeds and carresses him, might, brute though he is, give