se scenes of love and cheerfulness, of
benevolence and peace. Let us leave Maria in her nursery, hearing the
little ones their lessons; and Henry cutting the leaves of a nice new
book, fresh from the press, while his home-taught son and heir is
playing at pot-hooks and hangers in a copy-book beside him. Let us
recollect their purity of mind, their holiness of motive, and their
happiness of life; these are the victims of false-witness. And how fares
the wretch that would have starved them?

The fate of John Dillaway is at once so tragical, so interesting, and so
instructive, that it will be well for us to be transported for awhile,
and give this rogue the benefit of honest company.

For many months I had seen a sullen lowering fellow, with cropped head,
ironed-legs, and the motley garments of disgrace, driven forth at early
morning with his gang of bad compeers; a slave, toiling till night-fall
in piling cannon-balls, and chipping off the rust with heavy hammers; a
sentinel stood near with a loaded musket; they might not speak to each
other, that miserable gang; hope was dead among them; life had no
delights; they wreaked their silent hatred on those hammered
cannon-balls. The man who struck the fiercest, that sullen convict with
the lowering brow, was our stock-jobber, John Dillaway.

Soon after that foretaste of slavery at Woolwich, the ship sailed,
freighted with incarnate crime; her captain was a ruffian; (could he
help it with such cargoes?) her crew, the offscouring of all nations;
and the Chesapeake herself was an old rotten hull, condemned, after one
more voyage, to be broken up; a creaking, foul, unsafe vessel, full of
rats, cockroaches, and other vermin.

The sun glared ungenially at that blot upon the waters, breeding
infectious disease; the waves flung the hated burden from one to the
other, disdainful of her freight of sin; the winds had no commission for
fair sailing, but whistled through the rigging crossways, howling in the
ears of many in that ship, as if they carried ghosts along with them:
the very rocks and reefs butted her off the creamy line of breakers, as
sea-unicorns distorting; no affectionate farewell blessed her departure;
no hearty welcomes await her at the port.

And they sailed many days as in a floating hell, hot, miserable, and
cursing; the scanty meal was flung to them like dog's-meat, and they
lapped the putrid water from a pail; gang by gang for an hour they might
pace the smoking