iful island, as our
readers may remember, came into the possession of an Englishman in the
latter part of last century in rather a romantic way--forming the
dowry of a native princess, the daughter of the king of Quedah, whom
he married. Captain Light transferred it to the East India Company,
who were not slow in discovering the advantages of its fine harbour,
rich soil, and salubrious climate. Its inhabitants at that time were a
few fishermen on the coast; and the interior was covered with an
almost impervious forest; but now there is a population of Europeans
and Americans, and Asiatics of almost all countries; and plantations
of sugar, coffee, pepper, and other intertropical produce. Among the
inhabitants are invalids, who proceed thither from continental India
for the restoration of their health; and convicts, who are compelled
to compensate by their labour the injuries they have inflicted on
society.

The man alluded to belonged to the latter class, having probably
travelled for his country's good from the tamer lowlands of Bengal;
and when the traveller asked him how he liked the region, he expressed
the utmost awe, united with the bitterest condemnation of the
Europeans, for desecrating by their roads and other works a place so
obviously the abode of deutas and spirits. He said, that when they had
begun to carry the up-hill road through these primeval forests, they
were warned of their impiety by the voices of the gods themselves, in
bursts of unearthly music, blasts of the trumpet, and the clash of
cymbals and gongs.

'The first tree we struck with the axe,' added he with a shudder, 'ran
milk; and the second, blood!' Of these two substances, the former is
still more ominous in the Brahminical faith than the latter, for
everything connected with the cow is sacred and mysterious.

'Well,' said the inquirer, 'what happened--since in spite of these
omens you persisted in your task? Did the gods take vengeance?'

'Yes,' said he solemnly; 'but _we_ were only instruments, like the
axes in our hands; and the vengeance, therefore, fell upon the prime
mover. The governor'--coming close up to the lady, and putting his
mouth to her ear--'the governor died!' Now, all this was true--music,
milk, blood, and death; and yet none of these was more the work of
supernatural agency than any of the common circumstances of life.

The supposed unearthly sounds proceed neither from birds nor men, and
the effect is either pleasing