been to blame for the mishap. It was altogether owing to
the unwisdom of military authorities at home, who seem to have
fancied that they could transform, by a magical spurt of the pen,
heathen savages into British soldiers.

The whole tragedy--for tragedy it was--is so curious, and so
illustrative of the negro character, and of the effects of the slave
trade, that I shall give it at length, as it stands in that clever
little History of Trinidad, by M. Thomas, which I have quoted more
than once:--

'Donald Stewart, or rather Daaga, {170} was the adopted son of
Madershee, the old and childless king of the tribe called Paupaus, a
race that inhabit a tract of country bordering on that of the
Yarrabas. These races are constantly at war with each other.

'Daaga was just the man whom a savage, warlike, and depredatory
tribe would select for their chieftain, as the African Negroes
choose their leaders with reference to their personal prowess.
Daaga stood six feet six inches without shoes. Although scarcely
muscular in proportion, yet his frame indicated in a singular degree
the union of irresistible strength and activity. His head was
large; his features had all the peculiar traits which distinguish
the Negro in a remarkable degree; his jaw was long, eyes large and
protruded, high cheek-bones, and flat nose; his teeth were large and
regular. He had a singular cast in his eyes, not quite amounting to
that obliquity of the visual organs denominated a squint, but
sufficient to give his features a peculiarly forbidding appearance;-
-his forehead, however, although small in proportion to his enormous
head, was remarkably compact and well formed. The whole head was
disproportioned, having the greater part of the brain behind the
ears; but the greatest peculiarity of this singular being was his
voice. In the course of my life I never heard such sounds uttered
by human organs as those formed by Daaga. In ordinary conversation
he appeared to me to endeavour to soften his voice--it was a deep
tenor; but when a little excited by any passion (and this savage was
the child of passion) his voice sounded like the low growl of a
lion, but when much excited it could be compared to nothing so aptly
as the notes of a gigantic brazen trumpet.

'I repeatedly questioned this man respecting the religion of his
tribe. The result of his answers led me to infer that the Paupaus
believed in the existence o