e
burning pine-knot, which shed a circle of light around it, but only
seemed to deepen and darken the shadows in the other parts of the
room,--these all formed a wild, strange, and deeply impressive picture,
not soon to be forgotten.

Maurice's especial favorite is one of the grandest hymns that we have
yet heard:--

"De tallest tree in Paradise
De Christian calls de Tree ob Life,
An' I hope dat trumpet blow me home
To my New Jerusalem.

CHORUS.

"Blow, Gabriel! trumpet, blow louder, louder!
An' I hope dat trumpet blow me home
To my New Jerusalem!

"Paul and Silas jail-bound
Sing God's praise both night and day,
An' I hope dat trumpet blow me home
To my New Jerusalem.

CHORUS.

"Blow, Gabriel! trumpet, blow louder, louder!
An' I hope dat trumpet blow me home
To my New Jerusalem!"

The chorus has a glad, triumphal sound, and in singing it the voice of
old Maurice rings out in wonderfully clear, trumpet-like tones. His
blindness was caused by a blow on the head from a loaded whip. He was
struck by his master in a fit of anger. "I feel great distress when I
become blind," said Maurice; "but den I went to seek de Lord; and eber
since I know I see in de next world, I always hab great satisfaction."
We are told that the master was not a "hard man" except when in a
passion, and then he seems to have been very cruel.

One of the women on the place, Old Bess, bears on her limbs many marks
of the whip. Some of the scars are three and four inches long. She was
used principally as a house-servant. She says, "Ebery time I lay de
table I put cow-skin on one end, an' I git beatin' and thumpin' all de
time. Hab all kinds o' work to do, and sich a gang [of children] to look
after! One person couldn't git along wid so much work, so it go wrong,
and den I git beatin'."

But the cruelty of Bess's master sinks into insignificance, when
compared with the far-famed wickedness of another slave-holder, known
all over the island as "Old Joe Eddings." There seem to have been no
bounds to his cruelty and licentiousness; and the people tell tales of
him which make one shudder. We were once asking some questions about him
of an old, half-witted woman, a former slave of his. The look of horror
and loathing which overspread her face was perfectly indescribable, as,
with upraised hands, she exclaimed, "What! Old Joe Eddings? L