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and of the Foreign Secretary it is enough to say, that he was Lord Dudley, a nobleman whose condition of mind then was nearly as eccentric as it is now. With a Sovereign racked by pain, and a minister proverbial for the ramblings of his mind, we must require more evidence than has hitherto transpired, to decide that any pledge was given which could convict the giver of a deliberate intention to deceive.

have no idea of charging the English councils with any factious and intermeddling ambition. They may have been involved in the dispute by the original weakness of Mr Canning's intervention-policy, and by the new system of flattering the French government. We speak of the whole transaction, not in the spirit of party, but in the common sense of everyday life. With the Portuguese choice of the sitter on the throne, England has unquestionably no right whatever to interfere.

But let us suppose that he did intend to deceive-that he was dipped in the deepest stain of tergiversation -what is that to the English people? Where have we acquired the right of bringing foreign princes into judgment, let their veracity be what it may? The point is altogether personal. It involves no breach of national treaty, it has perfected no national offence. It may be a matter for the Portuguese nation to consider. But it is evident that they have not considered it to be worth their attention; and what right have we to declare to Portugal that she shall not have a King according to her own choice, because he broke his oath to his Austrian jailer, or beguiled the wandering intellects of an English Secretary? To put the extreme caseif Dom Miguel were personally guilty of every crime that could degrade the human character, we might scorn and hate the individual, we might pronounce him unfit to sit upon a throne, if we will, but the arbitration does not rest with us. The Portuguese nation, fully acquainted with the man and the character, have chosen him for their monarch. And which among our most red-hot settlers of nations, will venture to say that they must wait for the approbation of England on the matter? if they have chosen ill, the ill be on them. But the choice can be no more an affair of ours than the calamity. The Portuguese have shewn that their choice was spontaneous; they have since shewn that they adhere to their choice; they are at this hour holding out defiance to the two most powerful nations of Europe, England and France, in assertion of their choice; and in the name of justice, freedom, and common sense, what right have we to say that they shall not have the King whom they have chosen? In these remarks we

But in one point we must beware lest we are, however unconsciously, drawing a degree of guilt upon ourselves; and that point is, the present practice of raising soldiers for the Portuguese contest. No man has a right to shed the blood of man but in self-defence, or for the protection of the weak, and this latter only in extreme cases. The soldier fighting for his country, fights virtually in self-defence. But who can place the recruits that are going off daily to fight in Portugal, in the list of selfdefenders? We are not at war with Portugal as a nation, yet do we not sanction, by this winking at the act, the crime of men going to shoot Portuguese for their pay? The same rule which now leads the British recruit to fight in Portugal, would sanction murder on the high-road. The highwayman shoots men for what he can get by it. What personal feeling can the British half-pay officer, or the common soldier, have in the quarrel between two Portuguese princes? His feeling is, notoriously and simply, a desire to be employed, to get pay and promotion, and for that purpose he sheds the blood of Portuguese officers and soldiers; strangers, whom he would never meet but for thus seeking their blood; and with whom he has no more national or personal quarrel than with the man in the moon. Beyond all doubt, this act of utterly unprovoked and unnecessary aggression in the individual, is murdermurder in the eyes of God and man. In this statement, we advocate the cause, no more of Dom Miguel than of Dom Pedro. Embarking in the service of either, the British officer would be equally criminal. Our government may not be able to prevent the entering of private and mi

and of the Foreign Secretary it is enough to say, that he was Lord Dudley, a nobleman whose condition of mind then was nearly as eccentric as it is now. With a Sovereign racked by pain, and a minister proverbial for the ramblings of his miad, we must require more evidence than has hitherto transpired, to decide that any pledge was given which could convict the giver of a deliberate intention to deceive.

have no idea of charging the English
councils with any factious and inter-
meddling ambition. They may have
been involved in the dispute by the
original weakness of Mr Canning's
intervention-policy, and by the new
system of flattering the French go
vernment. We speak of the whole
transaction, not in the spirit of party,
but in the common sense of every
day life. With the Portuguese choice
of the sitter on the throne, England
has unquestionably no right what
ever to interfere.

But in one point we must beware lest we are, however unconsciously, drawing a degree of guilt upon our selves; and that point is, the present practice of raising soldiers for the Portuguese contest. No man has a right to shed the blood of man but in self defence, or for the protection of the weak, and this latter only in extreme cases. The soldier fighting for his country, fights virtually in self-defence. But who can place the recruits that are going off daily to fight in Portugal, in the list of selfdefenders? We are not at war with Portugal as a nation, yet do we not sanction, by this winking at the act, the crime of men going to shoot Por tuguese for their pay? The same rule which now leads the British recruit to fight in Portugal, would sanction murder on the high-road. The highwayman shoots men for what he can get by it. What personal feeling can the British half-pay officer, or the common soldier, have in the quarrel between two Portuguese princes? His feeling is, noto. riously and simply, a desire to be employed, to get pay and promotion, and for that purpose he sheds the blood of Portuguese officers and solnever meet but for thus seeking diers; strangers, whom he would their blood; and with whom he has no more national or personal quarrel than with the man in the moon. Beyond all doubt, this act of utterly unprovoked and unnecessary aggres sion in the individual, is murdermurder in the eyes of God and man. In this statement, we advocate the Our cause, no more of Dom Miguel than of Dom Pedro. Embarking in the service of either, the British officer would be equally criminal. vent the entering of private and mi government may not be able to pre

But let us suppose that he did in tend to deceive-that he was dipped in the deepest stain of tergiversation -what is that to the English people? Where have we acquired the right of bringing foreign princes into judginent, let their veracity be what it may? The point is altogether personal. It involves no breach of national treaty, it has perfected no national offence. It may be a matter for the Portuguese nation to consider. But it is evident that they have not considered it to be worth their attention; and what right have we to declare to Portugal that she shall not have a King according to her own choice, because he broke his oath to his Austrian jailer, or beguiled the wandering intellects of an English Secretary? To put the extreme case if Dom Miguel were personally guilty of every crime that could degrade the human character, we might scorn and hate the individual, we might pronounce him unfit to sit upon a throne, if we will, but the arbitration does not rest with us. The Portuguese nation, fully acquainted with the man and the character, have chosen him for their monarch. And which among our most red-hot settlers of nations, will venture to say that they must wait for the approbation of England on the matter? if they have chosen ill, the ill be on them.

But the choice can be no more an affair of ours than the calamity. The Portuguese have shewn that their choice was spontaneous; they have since shewn that they adhere to their choice; they are at this hour holding out defiance to the two most powerful nations of Europe, England and France, in assertion of their choice; and in the name of justice, freedom, and common sense, what right have we to say that they shall not have the King whom they n? In these remarks we

litary persons into the quarrels of foreign countries. But over its halfpay list it has a hold; and if it shall suffer a single individual to raise men in this country for either of the parties, it, beyond all controversy, puts itself into a position of belligerency. On this head we shall rejoice to see our policy retracted. If the Portuguese princes will continue to present to Europe a spectacle unprecedented among all the frightful, disgusting, and guilty spectacles of later times, two brothers seeking each other's blood; let the British take the only part suitable to a wise and moral people; let the British nation distinctly refuse to be an accomplice in this hideous exhibition; or, if we must exert our power, let us exert it to conciliate and appease, and put forth our intervention to stop a contest which outrages every public interest, every principle of humanity, and every command of religion. The exact state of the question is this. Before the death of the late King John the Sixth, Dom Pedro had, by an act of direct revolt, declared Brazil independent of Portugal, and himself Emperor. On the death of the late King, in 1826, the Portuguese nation, notwithstanding the revolt, offered their crown to Dom Pedro, on condition of his returning to Portugal, which, by the ancient laws, was essential to his possession of the throne. The throne then, by those laws, came to the second son of the late King, but that son was a prisoner in Austria. A regency was appointed in this emergency, by the influence of Dom Pedro, at the head of which was his sister, the Infanta, which regency was suffered only in consequence of the annexed condition, that on the second son's arriving at the age of twenty-five that son should assume the regency; a provision which notoriously pointed out Dom Miguel, he being twentythree at the time, but incapable of the throne by reason of his being in captivity. But even with this proviso the national discontent grew so violent, that it produced the insurrection and invasion, which were put down only by the British troops sent out by Mr Canning, on the pretext that, as coming from Spain, they constituted a Spanish invasion. It was thus found necessary to release Dom Miguel, and appoint him Regent in

Th

order to quiet the publi preserve any show of d Dom Pedro. But with Sovereign the Portu were not content. a regency to be an ach of dependence on a had constituted itself separate and foreign s perfectly justifiable na they refused to suffer become the disposer state; and they, in 182 ject of national indeper Dom Miguel king, for undoubted consistency of their whole code of for the purpose of shal to the throne. Dom guel's succession, tran daughter, Donna Maria, alienated it from himse existed no longer, he h up as a rival to the pri tional choice. The Po tion, still considering contrivance for keeping vernment of a child m under the jurisdiction and being justified by the Cortes, rejecting the and his descendants, r armed in defence of t ceive her as their Quee whom they chose, cert any intervention of for whom they are now whom they have hither tendency whatever, un temptations, to abjure.

out his foreign brigade It is evident that Dom reign money, could not in Portugal; it is equal Dom Miguel is fighting strength than the force try. It is equally clear tinuance of the strugg turb Spain with fears o alienate Portugal from I abetted by England, an sult, make them both list

overtures from Austria system, in case of that as conservatives of the o character of the individ now seems to menace E paratively unimportant tiou. The only point for right to dictate the choi consider is, whether she reign to an independent

TOM CRINGLE'S LOG.

CHAP. XVII.

SCENES IN CUBA.

Safely in harbour

Ariel.
Is the King's ship.-In the deep nook where once
Thou calledst me up at midnight to fetch dew
From the still vexed Bermoothes-there she's hid

THE spirit had indeed fled-the ethereal essence had departed-and the poor wasted and blood-stained husk which lay before us, could no longer be moved by our sorrows, or gratified by our sympathy. Yet I stood riveted to the spot, until I was aroused by the deep-toned voice of Padre Carera, who, lifting up his hands towards heaven, addressed the Almighty in extempore prayer, beseeching his mercy to our erring sister who had just departed. The unusualness of this startled me."As the tree falls, so must it lie," had been the creed of my forefathers, and was mine; but now for the first time I heard a clergyman wrestling in mental agony, and interceding with the God who hath said, " Repent before the night cometh in which no man can work," for a sinful creature, whose worn-out frame was now as a clod of the valley. But I had little time for consideration, as presently all the negro servants of the establishment set up a loud howl, as if they had lost their nearest and dearest. "Oh, our poor dear young mistress is dead! She has gone to the bosom of the Virgin!-She is gone to be happy!" -"Then why the deuce make such a yelling?" quoth Bang in the other room, when this had been translated to him. Glad to leave the chamber of death, I entered the large hall, where I had left our friend.

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The Tempest.

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"I am a Scotchman, my dear sir; and the same person who in his youth was neither more nor less than wee Richy Cloche, in the long town of Kirkaldy, is in his old age Don Ricardo Campana of St Jago de Cuba. But more of this anon,-at present we are in the house of mourning, and alas the day! that it should be so.”

By this time the storm had increased most fearfully, and as Don Ricardo, Aaron, and myself, sat in the dark damp corner of the large gloomy hall, we could scarcely see each other, for the lightning had now ceased, and the darkness was so thick, that had it not been for the light from the large funeral wax tapers, which had been instantly lit upon poor Maria's death, in the room where she lay, that streamed through the open door, we should have been unable to see our very fingers before

us.

"What is that?" said Campana; "heard you nothing, gentlemen?"

In the lulls of the rain and the blast, the same long low cry was

heard, which had startled me by Maria's bedside, and occasioned the sudden and fatal exertion which had been the cause of the bursting out afresh of the blood vessel.

66

"Why," said I, "it is little more than three o'clock in the afternoon yet, dark as it is; let us sally out, Mr Bang, for I verily believe that the hollo we have heard is my Captain's voice, and, if I conjecture rightly, he must have arrived at the other side of the river, probably with the Doc

tor."

66

Why, Tom," quoth Aaron, "it is only three in the afternoon, as you say, although by the sky I could almost vouch for its being midnight, --but I don't like that shouting-Did you ever read of a water-kelpie, Don Richy?"

66

"Poo, poo, nonsense," said the Don; Mr Cringle is, I fear, right enough." At this moment the wind thundered at the door and windowshutters, and howled amongst the neighbouring trees and round the roof, as if it would have blown the house down upon our devoted heads. The cry was again heard, during a momentary pause.

"Zounds!" said Bang, "it is the skipper's voice, as sure as fate-he must be in danger-let us go and see, Tom."

"Take me with you," said Campana, the foremost always when any good deed was to be done,-and, in place of clapping on his great-coat to meet the storm, to our unutterable surprise, he began to disrobe himself, all to his trowsers and large straw hat. He then called one of the servants, "trae me un lasso." The lasso, a long thong of plaited hide, was forthwith brought; he coiled it up in his left hand. "Now, Pedro," said he to the negro servant who had fetched it, (a tall strapping fellow,) you and Gaspar follow me. Gentlemen, are you ready?" Gaspar appeared, properly accoutred, with a long pole in one hand and a thong similar to Don Ricardo's in the other, he as well as his comrade being stark naked all to their waistcloths. "Ah, well done, my sons," said Don Ricardo, as both the negroes prepared to follow their master. So off we started to the door, although we heard the tormenta raging without with appalling fury. Bang undid the

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latch, and the next moment he was flat on his back, the large leaf having flown open with tremendous violence, capsizing him like an infant.

The Padre from the inner chamber came to our assistance, and by our joint exertions we at length got the door to again and barricaded, after which we made our exit from the lee-side of the house by a window. Under other circumstances, it would have been difficult to refrain from laughing at the appearance we made. We were all drenched in an instant after we left the shelter of the house, and there was old Campana, naked to the waist, with his large sombrero and long pigtail hanging down his back, like a mandarin of twenty buttons. Next followed his two black assistants, naked as I have described them, all three with their coils of rope in their hands, like a hangman and his deputies; then advanced friend Bang and myself, without our coats or hats, with handkerchiefs tied round our heads, and our bodies bent down so as to stem the gale as strongly as we could.

But the planting attorney, a great schemer, a kind of Will Wimble in his way, had thought fit, of all things in the world, to bring his umbrella, which the wind, as might have been expected, reversed most unceremoniously the moment he attempted to hoist it, and tore it from the staff, so that, on the impulse of the moment, he had to clutch the flying red silk and thrust his head through the centre, where the stick had stood, as if he had been some curious flower. As we turned the corner of the house, the full force of the storm met us right in the teeth, when flap flew Don Ricardo's hat past us; but the two blackamoors had taken the precaution to strap each of theirs down with a strong grass lanyard. We continued to work to windward, while every now and then the hollo came past us on the gale louder and louder, until it guided us to the fording which we had crossed on our first arrival. We stopped there ;-the red torrent was rushing tumultuously past us, but we saw nothing save a few wet and shivering negroes on the opposite side, who had sheltered themselves under a cliff, and were busily employed in attempting to light a fire. The holloing continued.

"Why, what can be wrong?" at length said Don Ricardo, and he shouted to the people on the opposite side.

He might as well have spared his breath, for, although they saw his gestures and the motion of his lips, they no more heard him than we did them, as they very considerately in return made mouths at us, bellowing no doubt that they could not hear us. "Don Ricardo-Don Ricardo!" at this crisis sung out Gaspar, who had clambered up the rock, to have a peep about him," Ave Maria-Alla son dos pobres, que peresquen pronto, si nosotros no pueden ayudarlos."

"Whereabout?" said Campana"whereabouts? speak, man, speak."

"Down in the valley-about a quarter of a league, I see two men on a large rock, in the middle of the stream; the wind is in that direction, it must be them we heard."

"God be gracious to us! true enough-true enough,-let us go to them then-my children." And we again all cantered off after the excellent Don Ricardo. But before we could reach the spot, we had to make a detour, and come down upon it from the precipitous brow of the beetling cliff above, for there was no beach nor shore to the swollen river, which was here very deep, and surged, rushing under the hollow bank with comparatively little noise, which was the reason why we heard the cries so distinctly.

The unfortunates who were in peril, whoever they might be, seemed to comprehend our motions, for one of them held out a white handkerchief, which I immediately answered by a similar signal, when the shouting ceased, until, guided by the negroes, we reached the verge of the cliff, and looked down from the red crumbling bank on the foaming water, as it swept past beneath. It was here about thirty yards broad, divided by a rocky wedgelike islet, on which grew a profusion of dark bushes and one large tree, whose topmost branches were on a level with us where we stood. This tree was divided, about twelve feet from the root, into two limbs, in the fork of which sat, like a big monkey, no less a personage than Captain N-himself, wet and dripping, with his clothes besmeared with mud, and shivering

with cold. At the foot of the tree sat in rueful mood, a small antique beau of an old man in a coat which had once been blue silk, wearing breeches the original colour of which no man could tell, and without his wig, his clear bald pate shining amidst the surrounding desolation like an ostrich's egg. Beside these worthies stood two trembling way-worn mules with drooping heads, their long ears hanging down most disconsolately. The moment we came in sight, the skipper hailed us.

"Why, I am hoarse with bawling, Don Ricardo, but here am I and el Doctor Pavo Real, in as sorry a plight as any two gentlemen need be. On attempting the ford two hours ago, blockheads as we were -beg pardon, Don Pavo"-the Doctor bowed, and grinned like a baboon-"we had nearly been drowned; indeed, we should have been drowned entirely, had we not brought up on this island of Barataria here.

But how is the young lady? tell me that," said the excellent-hearted fellow, even in the midst of his own danger.

"Mind yourself, my beautiful child," cried Bang. "How are we to get you on terra firma?"

Poo-in the easiest way possible," rejoined he, with true seamanlike self-possession. "I see you have ropes-Tom Cringle, heave me the end of the line which Don Ricardo carries, will you?"

"No, no-I can do that myself," said Don Ricardo, and with a swing he hove the leathern noose at the skipper, and whipped it over his neck in a twinkling. The Scotch Spaniard, I saw, was pluming himself on his skill, but N was up to him, for in an instant he dropped out of it,while in slipping through he let it fall over a broken limb of the

tree.

"Such an eel-such an eel!"

shouted the attendant negroes, both expert hands with the lasso themselves.

"Now, Don Ricardo, since I am not to be had, make your end of the thong fast round that large stone there." Campana did so. "Ah, that will do." And so saying, the skipper warped himself to the top of the cliff with great agility. He was no sooner in safety himself, however,

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