from their rifles, but fortunately not one of the bullets struck the bold swimmer. The slave-hunters crossed a bridge, and went to wait for their prey on the other side of the river, and at the moment when the fugitive was going to leave the water, they levelled their guns at him, and ordered him to surrender.

"No," Bill shouted, "I would sooner die."

This answer, given in an energetic voice, was greeted by a new discharge, and this time one of the bullets struck the unhappy fugitive in the head. He leaped up in the water, his face covered with blood, and, in spite of the pain, found in his despair fresh strength to try and escape his enemies.

This scene had attracted a considerable crowd of spectators to the river bank. The sight of the bleeding wretch heated heads and hearts, and some persons, going up to the slave-hunters, indignantly upbraided their conduct. The latter thought it advisable to withdraw a little distance and consult as to what they had better do.

Bill, not seeing them any longer, supposed they had gone off, and, not feeling strong enough to remain any longer in the water, approached the bank. When he was assisted to land, he was so exhausted that he lost his senses, and for some moments was supposed to be dead.

"Well," one of the hunters exclaimed, "our chase is over: a dead nigger is worth nothing in the South."

Poor Bill having, contrary to all expectation, given some signs of life, a coloured man of the name of Rex, taking him in his arms, prepared to carry him home. But the Virginians, informed of the resurrection of the fugitive, returned, pistol in hand, threatening to kill any man who attempted to rob them of their prey.

This menace dispersed the crowd, and Bill was on the point of falling into the hands of his enemies. Although seriously wounded, and scarce recovered from his emotion, the wretched man did not hesitate a moment in throwing himself into the water again, and sought a refuge on one of the small wooded islands that studded these waters, stained with the blood of a man whose sole crime was seeking liberty.

The five slave-hunters, whom Bill's resistance exasperated, displayed remarkable energy. Scattered on either bank with shouldered rifles, they tried to discover the fugitive's hiding-place among the shrubs. One of them was preparing to unfasten a boat in which to explore the river, when Bill, showing himself at the end of the island on which he was hidden, shouted to him with the exaltation of despair:

"Come if you dare; but I swear that we will both find death at the bottom of the river."

This affecting scene had lasted about two hours: the crowd had again congregated, a shudder of indignation ran along the ranks of the spectators of this horrible man-hunt, and the most timid felt courageous. The Wilkesbarre justice of the peace, who had hitherto calmly surveyed this monstrous tragedy, which his presence seemed to encourage, ordered the hunters to withdraw.

The energetic attitude of the magistrate aroused the crowd, who uttered threats of death. The marshal and his men were obliged to beat a retreat, while poor Bill, taking advantage of the confusion, quietly drifted with the stream, and landed lower down. There he found assistance, and

during the night was conveyed to Canada, where he at length found liberty.

A great deal has been said and written about the slave-trade, and it has been assimilated with piracy. We will only ask one question. Was it more humane to leave negroes, who were prisoners through the chances of war or rapine, to pine away in barbarous slavery than to lead them by expatriation to the sight of a civilisation, by which they have, unhappily, not been allowed sufficiently to profit? Slavery for slavery: the second was more human, more rational than the first. Remember, too, the words of one of the first missionaries, when Europeans, and with them slavery, were established in the colonies:

"We may say of the negroes that their slavery is the foundation of their happiness, and that their disgrace is the cause of their salvation, since the faith they embrace in the isles places them in a condition to know God, and to love and serve Him."

Still we are bound to add that the trade, as it was carried out, was a monstrosity, against which the spirit of the age revolts even in the Slave States. To give an idea of this trade we will transcribe the following narrative, almost word for word, from the Californian paper, the Evangelist, of about two years back:

At this moment there is in the Tomb's prison a man declared guilty by a jury of having taken part in that infamous traffic, which our laws justly rank with piracy. Even though Mr. Smith, as a foreigner, protests against the right the American courts have arrogated in condemning him, he does not contest the truth of the facts that occasioned his trial. The following is a resumé of a conversation one of his friends has just held with him:

"Most of the American vessels," said Captain Smith, "that go to the African coast to fetch slaves to carry to Cuba and Brazil hail from New York. They also start from other ports. Philadelphia fits out four or five a year on the average, and Baltimore one or two. In 1853, New York sent off thirty-five a month. Once the cargo has been discharged the vessel is destroyed, in order to get rid of proofs."

"But how do you manage not to arouse suspicion when you are starting ?"

"We make our preparations with the least noise possible, and only ask for our papers at the last moment. It is on leaving port that we incur the greatest danger; not that we are afraid of a visit, which would lead to nothing, but the number of the crew is always larger than the vessel requires, and we are anxious lest the attention of the authorities should be drawn to the fact."

"But how do you get rid of the English cruisers on the African coast ?"

"When we are empty, we do not trouble ourselves much about them. The English officers come on board, and, as we sail under the American flag, they have no right to search us. We show our papers, and that is all. These gentlemen, who do not fail to suspect the truth, growl, mutter, and then go away."

"But suppose you have a cargo, what do you do then?"

"That is rather more difficult, but we have more than one way of getting out of the scrape. So soon as the cruiser comes up, we send all

the negroes down into the hold; we close the hatches, and when the officers come aboard we show our papers. If the niggers keep quiet, all is well; but, if the officers suspect the truth, they remain aboard an hour or two sometimes. In that case the niggers, who are choking, make a row, and it is all up with us."

"And are you punished?"

"Not always. We often succeed in making our escape. From the moment we declare we are American citizens, we must be taken before an American court. Now, sooner than make this voyage, the cruisers prefer fining us a pound a head for each negro captured, and let us go." "Were you never caught?"

"Only once. We were well out to sea, far from the coast, and the weather was very calm, so we had no chance of escape. So soon as the English cruiser came in sight, I began thinking of the way to get out of the scrape; eventually, I threw overboard every barrel of water but one, and what I expected occurred. For some motive or other the commandant of the corvette did not take us with him, but placed aboard us a prize crew of twenty men under a lieutenant, who had orders to take us-I forget where. Being obliged to touch on the coast to procure water, the lieutenant, who was sailing in these parts for the first time, was compelled to take me as pilot. Do not attempt to escape,' he said, as he gave me the charge of the wheel, or I shall blow out your brains.' I proceeded towards a part of the coast where there is a great number of slave depôts. So soon as my ship was sighted, the sea was covered with boats, for she was well known; but, by the lieutenant's orders, they all withdrew. But I had found time to let several persons I was acquainted with know in Spanish who I was and what was up. Hence, so soon as night set in, they came in great force, and recaptured us. As for our English crew, after providing them with a good boat amply supplied with all necessary to take to sea, we hinted to them that they had better be

off."

"How many negroes did you carry each trip?"

"On my last voyage I had six hundred and sixty-four, as I was going to Brazil; had I loaded for Cuba, I should have taken eight hundred." "How did you treat them?"

"At the beginning, we are stern with them, in order to establish our authority; but at the end of a week or two, our rigour is relaxed. During the night the niggers lie on their side, for if they lay on their backs there would not be room for them all."

"Do many die ?"

"Too many to please us. The first thing done in the morning is to inspect the cargo, and throw overboard the dead and those in a desperate state."

"Are your profits large?"

"On my last voyage to Cuba, the expenses amounted to thirteen thousand dollars, and my cargo was worth two hundred and twenty thousand dollars. On our arrival, we fell into the hands of the agents of the Captain-General Pezuela. He did more to repress the slave-trade than all his predecessors put together, and had he remained much longer in Cuba I would not have answered for his life. From time immemorial the private abode of planters had been sacred, and no one dared enter it;

but Pezuela respected nothing, and had recently-disembarked niggers seized wherever he knew them to be hidden."

"At last you were caught for good?"

"Yes, my mate betrayed me: he was a fellow with no heart. Certain wrinkles in his face ought to have at once aroused my distrust. Before taking a man with him a slaver ought to read his character merely by his face and temperament. Once at sea, a captain is only master of his ship so long as he has in himself more nerve and vigour than his entire crew, for he cannot reckon on the support of the laws, but solely on his personal strength. My villain of a mate played me a trick for which I ought to have killed him. We were between Martinique and St. Domingo, when we all at once sighted an English steamer. My mate, who at first thought, like myself, that it was a man-o'-war, gave orders to tack. In a second, I perceived the danger of such a manœuvre, which might induce the steamer to chase us, and I at once gave orders to lay her on her course again. Thanks to my boldness, we got out of the scrape once more."

"Are you not tired of such a life ?"

During my last voyage, I thought once or twice about giving up a sea-life for ever. I meant to sell my vessel, retire into the country, marry, and have honest children. But disposing of my vessel was not an easy matter, and while I was arranging it, the authorities got wind of it, and stopped me."

The pirate, who seemed very agitated, and had not once left off walking round his narrow cell, here suddenly stopped. After a moment's silence, he continued:

"Give me a vessel fitted out to my liking, with a crew of twenty fellows picked by myself, and—”

"Well, what?"

"And I will begin again."

Although slavery is unanimously condemned, it still appears to have a wondrous vitality. When the internecine war in America broke out, everybody believed that the knell of slavery had rung, for the North had risen in its might to crush out the peculiar institution. But it was speedily discovered that the republicans were loth to inscribe abolition on their banners, and that, in reality, the fight was as between Free trade and Protection, rather than an earnest effort to get rid of slavery. However, in whatever way the American war may terminate, there is but little doubt that it will entail the abolition of the peculiar institution within a given time, for the Confederates are quite willing to get rid of their negroes. It is rather a startling comment on human wisdom, that a small portion of the money already expended by the rival nations in fighting for supremacy would have sufficed to purchase the freedom of all the slaves in America. This is proof positive that slavery is not the motive of the war, though it is positive that the war will pave the way to abolition. How this will come about we have not space to discuss at present, but may find it on a future occasion.

389

RECREATIONS IN SWITZERLAND.

AN ASCENT OF MONT COMBIN FROM ST. PIERRE.

THE season, in Switzerland, of 1860, almost uniformly wet or cloudy, was generally unfavourable to the objects of tourists. This year the Mont Blanc feat was not often attempted, still less often performed, and, probably, not many new ascents were accomplished, owing to the constant deposits of fresh snow upon the glaciers, as, also, to the difficulty of finding two or three continuous fine days. A certain class of mountains, nevertheless, including the Jungfrau, Wetterhorn, and one or two others, were found to be more accessible than in most years, as the steep icy sides of their peaks were now masked by a layer of snow of sufficient depth to offer a good foothold. Crevasses were also less numerous or better bridged, the intricacies of the Mer de Glace were diminished, and the passage of the Col de Géant consequently became, or ought to have become, a more simple affair, notwithstanding the deplorable accident which this year involved the loss of the lives of three Englishmen, together with the guide Tairraz, of Chamounix.

Disappointed in "doing" this pass, from the circumstance of a friend not having kept his engagement, I turned my steps from Courmayeur towards the Great St. Bernard, with an eye to Combin or Velan. The latter mountain, known also as the culminating point of the Great St. Bernard, is seen from the Hospice and the lake, and is very conspicuous from Vevey and the upper end of the Lake of Geneva, a fine glittering mass of ever-resting snow marking the position of Napoleon's celebrated passage of the Alps. Its nearest neighbour is the Grand Combin, the loftiest summit between Mont Blanc on the one hand, and the Matterhorn and the Dent Blanche on the other.

To return to Courmayeur. On leaving the village, instead of following the usual route by Morgex and the Col de Séréna, I turned up the small valley which runs parallel with, and nearest to, the Vallée d'Entrèves. When I had walked to the head of the valley, I climbed the mountain on my left, as seeming to me the most practicable mode of exit without turning back. I now found myself on the top of the ridge which had separated me from the Vallée d'Entrèves, and in close proximity with the mighty chain of Mont Blanc. The weather, of which the previous evening had given little promise, was everything that might have been desired for the thorough appreciation of so magnificent a panorama. Scarcely a speck of vapour soiled the clear atmosphere above those vast fields of snow, out of which rise the stupendous and inaccessible rocks of the Géant, the Fréty, and the Jorasses, now standing out in boldest relief against a deep blue sky. Nearly twelve thousand feet of Mont Blanc must have been visible from here; more to the westward of the chain, the lofty Aiguilles de Trélatête. I soon discovered a rugged but perfectly practicable descent towards the Col de Ferret, still, however, keeping a considerable height above the valley. After passing over the brow of another mountain, I fell in with a herdsman, who directed me to the high and little known Col de Belle Combe,