volent; who have nothing to gain
by the freedom of the slaves, beyond the satisfaction of endeavouring to
forward a good work, which if it succeeds, (and we pray God that it
may,) will restore a large portion of the human family to their rights
as immortal and rational creatures."

"Mere cant--the vanity of making a noise in the world. One of the
refined hypocrisies of the present age. By-the-bye, my dear Madam, have
you read a tract published lately by this disinterested society, called
the History of Mary P.? It is set forth to be an authentic narrative,
while I know enough of the West Indies, to pronounce it a tissue of
falsehoods from beginning to end."

"Did you know Mary P.?"

"I wonder who does. It is an imaginary tale got up for party purposes."

"You are mistaken," said Flora quietly. "That narrative is strictly
true. I was staying the winter before last, with her mistress in London,
and I wrote it myself from the woman's own lips."

"You!" and Mrs. Dalton started from the ground as though she had been
bitten by a serpent--"and I have been talking all this time to the
author of Mary P. From this moment, Madam, we must regard ourselves as
strangers. No West Indian could for a moment tolerate the writer of that
odious pamphlet."

Mrs. Dalton retired to her berth, which was in the state cabin; and
Flora lay awake for several hours, pondering over their conversation,
until the morning broke, and the steamer cast anchor off Newhaven.

CHAPTER XX.

EDINBURGH.

The storm had passed away during the night; and at day-break, Flora
hurried upon deck, to catch the first glance of--

"The glorious land of flood and fell,
The noble north countrie."

The sun was still below the horizon, and a thick mist hung over
the waters, and hid the city from her view. Oh, for the rising of that
white curtain! how Flora tried to peer through its vapoury folds, to

"Hail old Scotia's darling seat,"

the beautiful abode of brave, intelligent, true-hearted men, and
fair good women. Glorious Edinburgh! who ever beheld you for the first
time with indifference, and felt not his eyes brighten, and his heart
thrill with a proud ecstasy, the mingling of his spirit with a scene,
which in romantic sublimity, has not its equal in the wide world--

"Who would not dare
To fight for such a land!"

exclaims the patriotic wizard of the North. Ay, and to die for
it, if need be, as every true-hearted Scot wo