rotocol," as it
was termed--and reading the royal edict. After twelve years all slaves
were to go free; their owners were to be paid for them; and meantime
every infant of a slave was to be free at birth.

I suppose no one knows better than the practical statesman how
disastrous measures are apt to be when designed for the _gradual_
righting of a public evil. They rarely satisfy any class concerned.
In this case the aged slaves bemoaned a promised land they might never
live to enter; younger ones dreaded the superior liberty of free-born
children; and the planters doubted they would be paid, even if
emancipation did not bring fire, rapine, and death.

One day, along with all "West-En'," as the negroes called
Fredericksted--Christiansted was "Bass-En',"--I saw two British
East-Indiamen sail into the harbor. Such ships never touched at
Fredericksted; what could the Britons want?

"Water," they said, "and rest"; but they stayed and stayed! their
officers roaming the island, asking many questions, answering few.
What they signified at last I cannot say, except that they became our
refuge from the black uprising that was near at hand. Likely enough
that was their only errand.

Sunday, the 2d of July, was still and fair. To me the Sabbath was
always a happy day. High-stepping horses prancing up to the
church-gates brought friends from the plantations. The organ pealed,
the choir chanted, the rector read, and read well; the mural tablets
told the virtues of the churchyard sleepers, and out through the
windows I could gaze on the clouds and the hills. After church came
the Sunday-school. Its house was on a breezy height where the wind
swept through the room unceasingly, giving wings to the children's
voices as we sang, "Now be the gospel banner."

But this Sunday promised unusual pleasure. I was to go with Aunt
Marion to dine soon after midday with a Danish family, in real Danish
West Indian fashion, and among the guests were to be some officers of
the East-Indiamen. I carried with me one fear--that we should have
pigeon-pea soup. Whoever ate pigeon-pea soup, Si' Myra said, would
never want to leave the island, and I longed for those ships to go.
But in due time we were asked:

"Which soup will you have--guava-berry or pigeon-pea?"

Hoping to be imitated I chose the guava-berry; but without any
immediately visible effect one officer took one and another the other.
After soup came an elegant kingfish, and by