forth from Brest and Cherbourg, ravaging the shores of
the Channel, and carrying women and children into captivity, with the
heads of their decapitated husbands and fathers? Would he preach? Would
he preach when he saw his daughter dishonored and his son murdered? And
then would he proclaim his shame and cowardice among men? What do some
gentlemen expect? They particularly desire to suppress piracy. Do they
really imagine that piracy is to be suppressed by argument and
preaching?"

Mr. Brooke's enemies have three times pressed their accusations before
the House of Commons, and three times have been defeated by overwhelming
majorities,--the last vote being 230 to 19. Finally, to end the
controversy, a royal commission was appointed to visit the scene of
these transactions, and upon the spot to decide their merits. The report
of this commission has not reached us, if indeed it has ever been made
public; but the practical results of it are certain. Mr. Brooke has
severed his official connection with the British government by a
resignation of the offices which he held under it; while he retains his
sovereignty at Sarawak, with the undiminished love of his subjects and
an unimpaired influence over the native tribes. There seems to be no
doubt that the intelligent public opinion of England fully sustains him.
And it is safe to predict that with that opinion the final verdict of
history will coincide. That, placed in circumstances of great
difficulty, he may have taken steps not to be squared with the nicest
morality, is possible; for that is what must be said of every man who
has borne the burden of great public responsibility. Neither is it
surprising that a man of such boldness of speech and such almost
Cromwellian vigor in action should have enemies; that is a necessity.
But that he has been a true and sagacious friend of the natives, and
that his career has been for the increase of human happiness, are facts
as certain as any can be.

His best defence is his works. In 1842, when he took the government of
Sarawak, it was a feeble province, torn by dissension, crushed by
slavery, and ravaged by lawless violence. Now it is a peaceful,
prosperous commonwealth. In 1842, its capital, Kuching, was a wretched
village, whose houses were miserable mud huts or tents of leaves, and
containing but fifteen hundred inhabitants. Now it numbers fifteen
thousand,--an increase almost rivalling that of our Western cities. In
1842, no boat