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" and, if you will stay and eat pot-luck, I will try if I cannot beat you." The day still continuing to rain, the duke accepted his offer, when the parson played so much better, that he won every game. This was so far from fretting the duke, that he was highly pleased to meet a man who could give him such entertainment at his favourite game. He accordingly inquired into the state of his family affairs, and, just making a memorandum of his address, without discovering his title, thanked him, and so took his leave. Some months passed over without -ever the clergyman's thinking a word about the matter, when one evening a footman, in a laced livery, rode up to the door, and presented him with the following billet: "The duke of Nivernois' compliments wait on the Rev. Mr. ; and, as a remembrance for the good drubbing he gave him at chess, and the hospitality he showed him on such a day, begs that he will accept of the living of —, worth four hundred pounds per year, and that he will wait on his grace the duke of Newcastle, on Friday next, to thank him for the same." The poor parson was for some time before he could imagine it any thing more than a jest, and was for not going; but his wife insisting on his trying, he came up to town, and found the contents literally true.

BARBARITY.

THE following horrible instance of the barbarity with which the American planters punish their slaves, is given by Hector St. John, who was a Pennsylvanian

farmer:

"I was not long since invited to dine with a planter who lived three miles from where he then resided. In order to avoid the heat of the sun, I resolved to go on foot, sheltered in a small path, leading through a pleasant wood. I was leisurely travelling along, attentively examining some peculiar plants which I had collected, when all at once I felt the air strongly agi

tated, though the day was perfectly calm and sultry. I immediately cast my eyes toward the cleared ground, from which I was but at a small distance, in order to see whether it was not occasioned by a sudden shower, when at that instant a sound, resembling a deep rough voice, uttered, as I thought, a few inarticulate monosyllables. Alarmed and surprised, I precipitately looked all around, when I perceived, at about six rods distance, something resembling a cage suspended to the limbs of a tree, all the branches of which appeared covered with large birds of prey, fluttering about, and anxiously endeavouring to pitch upon the cage. Actuated by an involuntary action of my hands, more than by any design of mind, I fired at them: they all flew to a short distance, with a most hideous noise, when, horrid to think, and painful to repeat, I perceived a Negro suspended in the cage, and left there to expire! I shudder when I recollect that the birds had already picked out his eyes; his cheek bones were bare; his arms had been attacked in several places; and his body seemed covered with a multitude of wounds. From the edges of the hollow sockets, and from the lacerations with which he was disfigured, the blood slowly dropped, and tinged the ground beneath. No sooner were the birds flown, than swarms of insects covered the whole body of this unfortunate wretch, eager to feed on his mangled flesh, and to drink his blood. I found myself suddenly arrested by the power of affright and terror; my nerves were convulsed; I trembled; I stood motionless, involuntarily contemplating the fate of this Negro in all its dismal latitude. The living spectre, though deprived of his eyes, could still distinctly hear, and in his uncouth dialect begged me to give him some water to allay his thirst. Humanity herself would have recoiled back with horror; she would have balanced whether to lessen such reliefless distress, or mercifully, with one blow, to end this dreadful scene of agonizing torture! Had I had a ball in my gun, I certainly should have despatched him; but finding myself unable to perform so kind an office, I sought, though trembling,

to relieve him as well as I could. A shell, ready fixed to a pole, which had been used by some Negroes, presented itself to me. I filled it with water, and with trembling hands I guided it to the quivering lips of the wretched sufferer. Urged by the irresistible power of thirst, he endeavoured to meet it, as he instinctively guessed its approach by the noise it made in passing through the bars of the cage. Tanke you, white man, tanke you, putè some poison, and givè me.' How long have you been hanging there? I asked him. Two days, and me no die; the birds, the birds; a-a-ah me!' Oppressed with the reflections which this shocking spectacle afforded me, I mustered strength enough to walk away, and soon reached the house at which I intended to dine. There I heard that the reason of this slave being thus punished was on account of his having killed the overseer of the plantation. They told me that the laws of self-preservation rendered such executions necessary; and supported the doctrine of slavery with the argu ments generally made use of to justify the practice, with the repetition of which I shall not trouble you at present."

THE DOWNFAL OF DALZELL.

BY ALLAN CUNNINGHAM.

THE wind is cold, the snow falls fast,

The night is dark and late,
As I lift aloud my voice and cry
By the oppressor's gate.
There is a voice in every hill,

A tongue in every stone;
The greenwood sings a song of joy,
Since thou art dead and gone :
A poet's voice is in each mouth,
And songs of triumph swell;

Glad songs, that tell the gladsome earth
The downfal of Dalzell.

As I raised up my voice to sing,
I heard the green earth say,
Sweet am I now to beast and bird,
Since thou art past away:
I hear no more the battle shout,
The martyrs' dying moans;
My cottages and cities sing

From their foundation-stones;
The carbine and the culverin's mute-
The deathshot and the yell
Are turn'd into a hymn of joy,

For the downfal of Dalzell.

I've trod thy banner in the dust,
And caused the raven call
From thy bride-chamber, to the owl
Hatch'd on thy castle wall;
I've made thy minstrels' music dumb,
And silent now to fame

Art thou, save when the orphan casts
His curses on thy name.

Now thou may'st say to good men's prayers
A long and last farewell:

There's hope for every sin save thine-
Adieu, adieu, Dalzell!

The grim pit opes for thee her gates,
Where punish'd spirits wail,

And ghastly death throws wide her door,
And hails her with a Hail.

Deep from the grave there comes a voice,
A voice with hollow tones,

Such as a spirit's tongue would have,
That spoke through hollow bones:-
"Arise, ye martyr'd men, and shout
From earth to howling hell;
He comes, the persecutor comes:
All hail to thee, Dalzell!"

O'er an old battle-field there rush'd
A wind, and with a moan

The sever'd limbs all rustling rose,
Even fellow bone to bone.

"Lo! there he goes," I heard them cry,
"Like babe in swathing band,
Who shook the temples of the Lord,
And pass'd them 'neath his brand.
Cursed be the spot where he was born,
There let the adders dwell,
And from his father's hearthstone hiss :
All hail to thee, Dalzell!"

I saw thee growing like a tree—
Thy green head touch'd the sky—
But birds far from thy branches built,
The wild deer pass'd thee by:
No golden dew dropp'd on thy bough;
Glad summer scorn'd to grace

Thee with her flowers, nor shepherds woo'd
Beside thy dwelling place:

The axe has come and hewn thee down,
Nor left one shoot to tell

Where all thy stately glory grew,-
Adieu, adieu, Dalzell!

An ancient man stands by thy gate,
His head like thine is gray-
Gray with the woes of many years,
Years fourscore and a day.
Five brave and stately sons were his ;

Two daughters sweet and rare;

An old dame dearer than them all,

And lands both broad and fair :

Two broke their hearts when two were slain,

And three in battle fell

An old man's curse shall cling to thee:
Adieu, adieu, Dalzell!

And yet I sigh to think of thee,

A warrior tried and true

As ever spurr'd a steed, when thick
The splintering lances flew.

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