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and American sympathy. No one who has examined the effects of emancipation in the British colonies would wish the Spaniards to liberate at once, and entirely, half a million of barbarous Africans.

Our own experiment was not so felicitous as to induce us to wish others to imitate it. But if the Spanish government were, in good faith, to constitute itself the protector of the slave population, and to insist upon the mitigation of the intense and savage cruelty to which the negro in Cuba is exposed, preparation might, in the mean time, be made for abolishing slavery, without entailing such distress

we may credit the transatlantic journals, the present movement has been principally organized by American citizens, though it is confessedly the work of the native Cuban party. The independence of the island is the avowed object of the manifesto which is stated to have been issued; but it cannot be doubted that annexation is the ulterior object; at least it is the sole condition upon which the Americans are likely to aid or to countenance any insurrection. It is probable enough that the colonial administration of Spain is extremely bad, and that many of the alleged grievances of the Cubans are real, but the sympathy" of their republican neighbors would undoubtedly not be satis-upon the planting and mercantile interests as refied with the redress of local grievances, or even with the establishment of an independent republic in Cuba. If the island does not continue in the possession of Spain, it must fall to the United States. With a formidable slave population, it would require American protection; and the want of energy of the native Cubans would lead them to accept a foreign dominion, perhaps, without much resistance.

sulted from the enlightened legislation of the Imperial Parliament. On the other hand, if Cuba were to become one of the United States, the institution of slavery would be greatly strengthened; the southern party, which has been declining in weight and numbers in Congress, would at once recover its strength, and the question of emancipation would be indefinitely adjourned.

crown. But it would be premature to follow out the consequences which are so eagerly grasped by the sanguine imaginations of American writers. We cannot, however, disregard the existence of such a dangerous spirit as that which pervades the Southern States of the Union, and which may lead-if not now, yet at no very distant time-to a collision which all would wish to see averted. In the present condition of Spain, her colonies are at the mercy of the United States; whilst the weaker party, if beaten on the sea or in the field, has the power of evoking a servile war. We trust that no occasion may ever arise for such a choice of evils; but if the Spanish race is to maintain its footing in Cuba as the dominant power, it can only be by a timely alliance with the African population, and by showing them that Spanish rule is preferable to American conquest.

Upon these grounds, apart from the political conSuch appears to be the position of the last and siderations connected with the aggrandizement of wealthiest of the Spanish possessions in America. the United States, any movement in Cuba will be In material prosperity Cuba has advanced with anxiously watched by the people in this country. If marvellous rapidity, in spite of bad government. the near approach of danger were to lead to a perWith a population of a million and a quarter, and manent improvement in the condition of the negro, with an enormous trade, it is coveted, with longing the result would be hailed with the greatest satiseyes, by the Americans. Its resources are inex-faction. The political questions involved are not, haustible; its soil is singularly fertile, and its min- indeed, of small importance. An extension of the eral wealth is as yet scarcely explored; and these slaveholding interest of the Union would be adadvantages, accompanied with the "domestic in-mitted with great unwillingness by the Northern stitution" of slavery, give it irresistible attractions and Western States, and foreign powers would see in the eyes of the Charleston and New Orleans with more than regret the spoliation of the Spanish speculators. Others, perhaps, would contemplate with less satisfaction so gigantic an act of spoliation. From the statements of the insurgents, it would seem that the Peninsular, or Spanish party, is by no means insignificant; and it is not to be supposed that the court of Madrid would abandon without a struggle that ancient and valuable dependency. It has also been said that, rather than consent to the loss of Cuba, the government would manumit the slaves, and arm them in defence of the rights of the Spanish crown. Such a course would undoubtedly be successful so far as the immediate object was concerned, and future aggression would, in all probability, be averted, because the island would be rendered perfectly worthless. Cuba might, under such circumstances, become another St. Domingo; and the best that could befall it would be a condition as miserable as that of Jamaica. The blacks would be free, but the colony would be destroyed. Still, it is possible that the Spanish government might prefer the inauguration of a social revolution to the sacrifice of a province. At any rate, the danger is one to which the Creole party and their American allies are exposed; and, whether justifiable or not, the use of such a weapon would inevitably be successful. And let us here remark, that the threat which has been held out-and of which the Cuban revolutionists speak with true American feeling-indicates the mode in which the Spanish authorities might, if they were so determined, materially lessen the risk to which they are exposed of being compelled to maintain by arms the possession of the island. Were they to attempt a gradual amelioration of the condition of the negro, and to enforce a more humane treatment of the slave population, the way might be prepared for the final extinction of slavery, and they might safely bid defiance alike to Creole pronunciamentos

From the Day-Book.

SCENES IN THE LIFE OF A PAINTER. TWENTY-FIVE years ago, a fair-haired, blue-eyed boy, remarkable for that sort of beauty in which a feminine delicacy is blended with energy and firmness, applied for a place on board a merchant ship at Boston. He was tired of the dull routine of home, and a poetical temper led him to the sea, in whose turbulent and eternal changes so many souls find rest. By the Antilles, by many foreign coasts, the sailor boy fed his imagination with beauty and grandeur; and when he was left, by some chance, in South America, he conceived the thought of being an artist-perhaps from seeing there some of those great works with which European munificence has endowed the cathedrals of that continent.

He wandered through Bolivia and the neighbor

ing states, visited Europe, and after a while came | How oft that eager, passionate, petted heart
back to New England, and an enthusiastic and care-
ful devotion to painting in a few years was crowned
with such triumphs as he had longed for in his
boyhood. In Boston, while a young girl, whose
genius in literature, and whose grace and beauty,
had attracted the admiration of society, was sitting
for her portrait, the artist told her his vicissitudes
by sea and land; how he had climbed the maintop
in the storm; how he followed with his palette in
the track of the flute-playing Goldsmith; and

Antres vast and deserts idle,

Will shrink abashed and chilled, to learn at length
The hateful, withering lesson of distrust!
Ah! let her nestle still upon this breast,
In which each shade that dims her darling face
The clouds that cross yon smiling heaven!—And thou,
Is felt and answered, as the lake reflects
My modest Ellen-tender, thoughtful, true;
Thy soul attuned to all sweet harmonies;
My pure, proud, noble Ellen! with thy gifts
Of genius, grace, and loveliness, half hidden
'Neath the soft veil of innate modesty,

How will the world's wild discord reach thy heart
To startle and appal! Thy generous scorn

Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads touch Of all things base and mean-thy quick, keen taste, heaven,

had found, in the rude productions of his untaught pencil, passports to the hearts of the peasant and partisan. She listened, like the fair Venetian; they were married and soon after went to London, where the painter pursued the study of his art in the Academy, and by his abilities and attractive character won such applause as makes proud the

bravest and noblest children of ambition.

Ten

years ago they returned; the wife in poetry, and the husband in painting, in various cities vindicated the high praises of their friends; but the arts are not well rewarded here; and the health of the painter declined; and the prospect grew dark. The discovery of gold on the Pacific, and the hope of advantage from a voyage, led the artist to mingle with the crowd who thronged to California; and a year ago he came back, with renewed health; and riches that satisfied his desires. The goal was reached, at last; he had aspired, struggled, won: and now the world was bright before him. No man was ever more devoted to his family; he built for them delightful castles in his dreams; and there was no reason to doubt that they would rise before his waking vision.

Among the poems of his wife are many which show that the parents regarded their children with a perfect sympathy. "To a Child Playing with a Watch," To Little May Vincent," "To Ellen, Learning to Walk," and many others, show the almost wild tenderness with which she loved her two surviving daughters; and this "Prayer in Illness," in which she besought God to "take them first" and suffer her to lie at their feet in death, lest, deprived of her love, they should be subjected to too many sorrows in the world, is exquisitely beautiful and touching :

A MOTHER'S PRAYER IN ILLNESS.

Yes, take them first, my Father! Let my doves Fold their white wings in heaven, safe on thy breast, Ere I am called away. I dare not leave

Their young hearts here, their innocent, thoughtless hearts!

Ah! how the shadowy train of future ills
Comes sweeping down life's vista as I gaze!

My May my careless, ardent-tempered May-
My frank and frolic child, in whose blue eyes
Wild joy and passionate woe alternate rise;
Whose cheek the morning in her soul illumes;
Whose little, loving heart, a word, a glance,
Can sway to grief or glee; who leaves her play,
And puts up her sweet mouth and dimpled arms
Each moment for a kiss, and softly asks,

With her clear, flute-like voice, "Do you love me?"
Ah, let me stay! ah, let me still be by,

To answer her and meet her warm caress !
For I away, how oft in this rough world
That earnest question will be asked in vain!

Dainty and delicate-thy instinctive fear
Of those unworthy of a soul so pure,
Thy rare, unchildlike dignity of mien,
All-they will all bring pain to thee, my child!
And oh, if even their grace and goodness meet
Cold looks and careless greetings, how will all
The latent evil yet undisciplined
In their young, timid souls, forgiveness find?
Forgiveness, and forbearance, and soft chidings,
Which I, their mother, learned of love to give!
Ah, let me stay!-albeit my heart is weary,
Weary and worn, tired of its own sad beat,
That finds no echo in this busy world,
Which cannot pause to answer-tired alike
Of joy and sorrow, of the day and night;
Ah, take them first, my Father, and then me!
And for their sakes, their sweet sakes, my Father,
Let me find rest beside them, at thy feet!

But the painter in a few weeks was sitting beside his wife's coffin; she went first and alone into the silent world; and in a few months the beautiful May, the fairest and brightest child whose answering look ever thrilled the heart of a father, followed after; and the last midnight found the father-now a father no more, a husband no more-kneeling by the dead body of the last of his household, Ellen Frances Osgood, by whose side he had watched with a devotedness that was almost madness, day and night, for nearly a month.

There are not many such sad histories. "Whom Whom He chasthe Lord loveth he chasteneth." teneth so terribly may He also abundantly love!

TRIFLES.

A CLOUD may intercept the sun,
A web by insect-workers spun
Preserve the life within the frame,
Or vapors take away the same.
A grain of sand upon the sight
May rob a giant of his might!
Or needle-point let out his breath,
And make a banquet-meal for Death.

How often, at a single word,

The heart with agony is stirred,

And ties, that years could not have riven,
Are scattered to the winds of heaven!

A glance that looks what words would speak
Will speed the pulse and blanch the cheek;
And thoughts, nor looked, nor yet exprest,
Create a chaos in the breast.

A smile of hope from those we love
May be an angel from above;
A whispered welcome in our ears
Be as the music of the spheres.
The pressure of a gentle hand
Worth all that glitters in the land ;
Oh! trifles are not what they seem,
But fortune's voice and star supreme!

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