Ah! Never Shall The Land Forget How

The Blacks Of This Region Are A Cheerful, Careless, Dirty, Race, Not Hard Worked, And In Many Respects Indulgently Treated. It Is Of Course The Desire Of The Master That His Slaves Shall Be Laborious; On The Other Hand It Is The Determination Of The Slave To Lead As Easy A Life As He Can. The Master Has The Power Of Punishment On His Side; The Slave, On His, Has Invincible Inclination, And A Thousand Expedients Learned By Long Practice... Good Natured Though Imperfect And Slovenly Obedience On One Side, Is Purchased By Good Treatment On The Other.

A Sculptor Wields The Chisel, And The Stricken Marble Grows To Beauty.

Ah! Never Shall The Land Forget How Gushed The Life-blood Of Her Brave -

It Is A Sultry Day; The Sun Has Drunk The Dew That Lay Upon The Morning Grass; There Is No Rustling In The Lofty Elm That Canopies My Dwelling, And Its Shade Scarce Cools Me. All Is Silent, Save The Faint And Interrupted Murmur Of The Bee, Settling On The Sick Flowers, And Then Again Instantly On The Wing.

The Air Was Fragrant With A Thousand Trodden Aromatic Herbs, With Fields Of Lavender, And With The Brightest Roses Blushing In Tufts All Over The Meadows.