"Hold there," the other quick replies, "Tis green,”—I saw it with these eyes, As late with open mouth it lay, And warm'd it in the sunny ray; Stretch'd at its ease, the beast I view'd, And saw it eat the air for food." "I've seen it, friend, as well as you; And must again affirm it blue. At leisure I the beast survey'd,

Extended in the cooling shade."

green,

'tis green,

I

can assure ye."

"Tis
"Green!” cries the other in a fury—

"Why, do you think I've lost my eyes?"
""Twere no great loss," the friend replies,
"For, if they always serve you thus,
You'll find them but of little use."
So high at last the contest rose,
From words they almost came to blows
When luckily came by a third-
To whom the question they referr❜d;
And begg'd he'd tell'em, if he knew,
Whether the thing was green or blue.

"Come," ories the umpire, "cease your pother, The creature's neither one nor t'other; I caught the animal last night,

And view'd it o'er by candle light;
I mark'd it well-'twas black as jet-
You stare, but I have got it yet,
And can produce it." "Pray then do:
For I am sure the thing is blue.”
"And I'll engage that when you've seen
The reptile you'll pronounce him green."

"Well then, at once to ease the doubt,"
Replies the man, “I'll turn him out:
And when before your eyes I've set him,
If you don't find him black, I'll eat him,"

He said; then full before their sight,
Produc'd the beast, and lo-'twas white!

Both star'd; the man look'd wondrous wisc-
"My children," the chameleon cries,
(Then first the creature found a tongue,)
"You all are right, and all are wrong:
When next you talk of what you view,
Think others see as well as you:
Nor wonder, if you find that none
Prefers your eye-sight to his own.'

99

Merrick.

A youngster at school, more sedate than the rest,
Had once his integrity put to the test;

His comrades had plotted an orchard to rob;
And ask'd him to go, and assist in the job.

He was very much shock'd, and answer'd-"Oh no!
What, rob our poor neighbour! I pray you don't go;
Besides the man's poor, his orchard's his bread;
Then think of his children, for they must be fed."
"You speak very fine; and you look very grave,
But apples we want, and apples we'll have;
If you will go with us, we'll give you a share,
If not, you shall have neither apple nor pear."

They spoke, and Tom ponder'd,-"I see they, will
Poor man! what a pity to injure him so!
Poor man! I would save him his fruit if I could,
But staying behind will do him no good.

If this matter depended alone upon me,

go;

His apples might hang till they dropp'd from the tree;
But since they will take them, I think I'll go too,
He will lose none by me, though I get a few."

His scruples thus silenc'd, Tom felt more at ease,
And went with his comrades the apples to seize ;
He blam'd and protested, but join'd in the plan;
He shar'd in the plunder, but pitied the man!
Conscience slumber'd awhile, but soon woke in his breast,
And in language severe the delinquent address'd,
"With such empty and selfish pretenses away!
By your actions you're judg'd, be your speech what it may."

Cowper.

LESSON LXIX.

THE MASTER AND THE SLAVE.

Master. Now, William! what have you to say for this second attempt to run away? Is there any punishment that you do not deserve?

Slave. I well know that nothing I can say will avail. I submit to my fate.

Mast. But are you not a base fellow-a hardened and ungrateful rascal?

Sla. I am a slave; that is answer enough.

Mast. I am not content with that answer. I thought I discerned in you some tokens of a mind superior to your condition, and I treated you accordingly; you have been comfortably fed and lodged, not over-worked, and attended with the most humane care when you were sick; and is this the return?

Sla. Since you condescend to talk with me as man to man, I will reply-What have you done-what can you do for me, that will compensate for the liberty which you have taken away?

Mast. I did not take it away; you were a slave when I fairly purchased you.

Sla. Did I give my consent to the purchase?

Mast. You had no consent to give; you had already lost the right of disposing of yourself.

Sla. I had lost the power, I grant; but could I lose the right? I was treacherously kidnapped in my own country, when following an honest occupation; I was put in chains, sold to one of your countrymen, carried by force on board his ship, brought hither and exposed to sale like a beast in the market where you bought me.

What step in all this progress of violence and justice can give a right? Was it in the villian who stole me? Was it in the slave-merchant who tempted him to do so? or, in you, who encouraged that merchant to bring his cargo of human cattle to cultivate your lands?

Mast. It is ordained by providence that one man should become subservient to another; it ever has been so, and probably ever will; I found the custom, I did not make it.

Sla. The robber who points the pistol to your breast may make the same plea; providence gives him a power over your life and property, as it gives my enemies a power over my liberty; but providence has given me legs to escape with, and what should hinder me from using them?

Mast. Gratitude, I repeat, gratitude! Have I not endeavoured, ever since I possessed you, to alleviate your misfortunes by kind treatment, and does that confer no obligation? Consider how much worse your condition might have been under another master.

Sla. You have done nothing more for me than for your working cattle; are they not well fed and tended? do you work them harder than your slaves? is not your own advantage the rule on which you act in both cases?

You treat both better than some of your neighbours, because you are more prudent and more wealthy. Mast. You might add, more humane, too.

Sla. Humane! does it deserve the appellation, to keep your fellow men in forced subjection, deprived of all exercise of their free-will, liable to all injuries that your own caprice, or the brutality of your overseers, may heap upon them, and devoted, soul and body, only to your pleasure and emolument?

Can gratitude take place between creatures in such a state, and the tyrant who holds them in it? Look at these limbs are they not those of a man? think that I have the spirit of a man too.

Mast. But it was my intention to provide for you in your old age.

Sla. Alas! is a life like mine, torn from my country, and my friends, wasted by toil in the burning sun, and spent in the service of a tyrant, worth thinking about for old age? No! the sooner it ends, the sooner I shall obtain that relief for which my soul is panting.

Mast. Is it impossible, then, to hold you by any ties but those of constraint and severity?

Sla. Is it possible to make one, who values freedom, to become a voluntary slave?

Mast. Suppose I were to restore you to your liberty, would you deem that a favour?

Sla. The greatest; for though it would only be undoing a wrong, I know, too well, how few among mankind are capable of sacrificing interest to justice, not to prize the exertion, when it is made.

Mast. I do it then; be free!

Sla. Now I am indeed your servant, though not your slave; and, as the first return I can make for your kindness, I will tell you freely the condition in which you live.