her'--and she threw it into the lake. It uttered one wail, and
disappeared. On this cry, the alligators, hidden amongst the reeds,
leaped joyfully into the water. There are mothers here who kill their
children out of pity.--Brothers, the good work will prosper in this
country!"

"This morning," said the negro, "whilst they tore the flesh of one of
his black slaves with whips, a withered old merchant of Batavia left
his country-house to come to the town. Lolling in his palanquin, he
received, with languid indolence, the sad caresses of two of those
girls, whom he had bought, to people his harem, from parents too poor to
give them food. The palanquin, which held this little old man, and the
girls, was carried by twelve young and robust men. There are here, you
see, mothers who in their misery sell their own daughters--slaves
that are scourged--men that carry other men, like beasts of
burden.--Brothers, the good work will prosper in this country!"

"Yes, in this country--and in every land of oppression, distress,
corruption, and slavery."

"Could we but induce Djalma to join us, as Mahal the Smuggler advised,"
said the Indian, "our voyage to Java would doubly profit us; for we
should then number among our band this brave and enterprising youth, who
has so many motives to hate mankind."

"He will soon be here; let us envenom his resentments."

"Remind him of his father's death!"

"Of the massacre of his people!"

"His own captivity!"

"Only let hatred inflame his heart, and he will be ours."

The negro, who had remained for some time lost in thought, said
suddenly: "Brothers, suppose Mahal the Smuggler were to betray us?"

"He" cried the Hindoo, almost with indignation; "he gave us an asylum on
board his bark; he secured our flight from the Continent; he is again
to take us with him to Bombay, where we shall find vessels for America,
Europe, Africa."

"What interest would Mahal have to betray us?" said Faringhea. "Nothing
could save him from the vengeance of the sons of Bowanee, and that he
knows."

"Well," said the black, "he promised to get Djalma to come hither this
evening, and, once amongst us, he must needs be our own."

"Was it not the Smuggler who told us to order the Malay to enter the
ajoupa of Djalma, to surprise him during his sleep, and, instead of
killing him as he might have done, to trace the name of Bowanee upon his
arm? Djalma will thus learn to judge of the resolution, the cunning and
obe