and human life is held cheaply in the eyes of men who are mere outlaws. Ah! but the bishop,” he continued with a sigh, “he can tell you; he has seen; he is not a weak old man like me. He will talk you out of this plan of separation from all your friends.”
Again silence fell upon them. In the direction of the square a crowd of slaves were enjoying the time of idleness. Men were dancing with men, and women with women, to the strange monotonous music of drums without tune, relics of the tom-tom in the wild African life which haunted them in dreamland. Still, there was pleasure for even a cultivated musical ear in the peculiar variation of the rhythm. The scanty raiment of gay-colored cotton stuffs set off the varied complexions,—yellow, bronze, white,—the flashing eyes, the gleaming teeth, and gave infinite variety to the scene. Over there, waterfalls fell in the sunlight in silvery waves; parti-colored butterflies of vivid coloring, and humming-birds flashed through the air with electrical radiance; gay parrakeets swung and chattered from the branches of the trees.
“Where, my son,” said the clergyman, indicating the landscape with a wave of his hand, “will you find a scene more beautiful than this? How can you leave it and those who love you and yours?”
