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plantations, ignorance, sloth, vice, and prostitution form the boasted jewel of the crown of England? The glory of Jamaica has departed. The sun of her prosperity has gone down. Religion itself is on the wing, and a general gloom pervades this interesting land. Education is neglected, and the school-houses are melancholy ruins. The planters are leaving the country with disgust, and the settlers generally are sunk in apathy and sloth. The blacks crowd into the towns, and are too lazy to work. Every house seems to be crumbling away. Not a new habitation can be seen. Was it to produce this state of things that the British people, through a mistaken philanthropy, paid twenty millions of pounds sterling? I will not stop here to inquire into the cause of this general ruin. However, the Emancipation Bill of 1833 commenced the work of destruction, and the Sugar Duties Bill of 1846 successfully accomplished what the other had left incomplete.

Jamaica has been in the possession of the British since 1665. It is divided into three counties, viz.: Middlesex, Surry, and Cornwall, and these are subdivided into twenty-two parishes. The legislature consists of the Governor and a council of eleven members appointed by the British Government, and a House of Assembly of forty-seven representatives, who are chosen by the people. The population, ten years ago, amounted to three hundred and seventy-seven thousand, four hundred and thirty-three, and out of that number, there were only nine thousand, two hundred and eighty-nine white males, and six thousand, four hundred and eighty-seven white females. There are about forty thousand in Kingston, about three thousand of which are white. The houses generally have a mean look. They are not more than two stories high, and have no chimney-tops. The streets are narrow and dirty, and abounding with a dwarfish race of hogs. I should judge, from their starved appearance, that they would leave but little for the poor buzzards, that hover over this tropical city, to pick up. The asses and the mules have the same famished air, and the horses are lucky whose skins perfectly cover their bony protuberances. The chickens have a similar aspect of want, and their feathers fail to conceal their nakedness. The rats, however, seem to be of a superior breed, and are large and fat. The dilapidated state of the buildings gives them easy access to the pantries; and, like their unscrupulous race every where, they indulge in their thieving propensities, and help themselves before their betters.' They seem to enjoy the blessings of the Emancipation Act as well as the negroes, and are bold in their independence. In point of intelligence the one is but a little elevated above the other. There is one striking difference between the races, and even it may be attributable to the imperfect gift of speech which the black enjoys over the rat. The rat, professionally a thief, can only steal, having no loftier pretensions; and is subject to no moral or criminal law, and feels perfectly safe in his depredations, unless caught in the act of stealing, or in some trap, (which the knowing ones studiously avoid ;) while the negro will not only steal when opportunities offer, but meanly beg, instead of working for an honorable living, in a land where labor is so much in demand.

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I saw the horses of the island that were booked for the race which was to come off on the following day. Being the property of gentle

men, they looked as if they had 'life and mettle in their heels,' and not like the harnessed skeletons that belong to the city, whose owners modestly charge two dollars and a half per hour for the use of one of them. The negroes who come into Kingston from the country, in their own conveyances, have a respectable air, and look fat and contented. They are polite and courteous in their manner, and much respected by the white population. The policemen are black, some of the judges and legislators are black, and the city barracks are filled with black soldiers, who wear red coats. The white soldiers of Queen Victoria occupy a more salubrious position, on the brow of a mountain, distinctly seen from the city. Some of the negroes of the city follow the stranger and beg of him to relieve their wants, while others, with shirts, handkerchiefs, straw-hats, and other commodities for sale, annoy one at every step he takes. Another class sell the fruits of the island. All seem to be dealers but the beggars. There are only a few good stores, and one or two decent-looking hotels in the place. So heavily do the rains fall occasionally, that the streets leading down to the docks are not only unpaved, but so scooped out, that they seem like so many channels of dried-up rivers. During the rains, the waters rush down them with an impetuous velocity. Hogs, rats, and chickens are frequently swept away in the rushing currents. It is with difficulty the mule, or his half-brother, the jackass, can ford the street-rapids of Kingston. Some of the flounder-footed negroes carry people across for a small compensation.

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I visited the suburbs of Kingston, where some of the gentry reside. I entered some of the gardens, and was politely shown around. Here are to be seen growing all the choicest fruits of the tropics. Here all is beauty and luxuriant magnificence. The trees and the flowers are in bloom, and the high-ways are redolent of perfumes. Here are impenetrable hedges of the cactus-tribe, from twelve to sixteen feet high, extending for miles on each side of the road. If the Paradise of our first parents was more inviting and enchanting than the gardens of Jamaica, I do not wonder at our ancient mother partaking of the forbidden fruit which brought death into the world, and all our woe.' Flowers of every hue greet the eye, and trees are hung with tropical fruits in tempting profusion. Here hang in clusters the bananas, cocoanuts, oranges, pine-apples, plantains, custuds, granadillas, pomegranates, and figs. Here grow, in all their beauty and perfection, the exotics of our northern conservatories. Some of them are daily watered by artificial means, but with that little attention from man they have no other nurse but the genial sun, and no other covering but the skies. A few of the gardens have marble fountains, that still mix their waters with the odors around. Nymphs and Venuses, with a few dismembered saints, adorn the flowery walks. One may see a saint without a head, and a Venus without a leg. In a shell-encircled basin stands a figure of old Neptune, with a broken trident in his hand. Those statues may not have been sculptured by a Phidias or a Powers, but they show evidence of a taste and refinement of by-gone times. Oh! it is deplorable to behold Neglect aiding in the triumph of Decay. The marble fountains will soon cease to play, and the sculptured symbols of luxury point to

the grave of civilization. Some may think, as the Spaniards would say, 'Palabras que se luva el viento.'

Can nothing be done for Jamaica, where Nature does so much, and man so little? Its streams and surrounding waters abound with fishes of great variety. The hills and the valleys teem with teal, wild ducks, plovers, snipes, pigeons, and flamingoes. Its timbers are of the choicest kinds, and its spices and balsams are celebrated for their superiority. Its past history proves what its deserted plantations are capable of producing. It is one of the most productive islands in the world, and certainly one of the most beautiful. Notwithstanding all the charming beauty of Jamaica, she is abandoned by England, her natural protector. England broke the chains of slavery which despotism had forged, it is true; but she left her wrapped in darkness and in ignorance. Before the civilized world, she presents the most humiliating spectacle of wretchedness and ruin. Have the long parliamentary efforts of a Wilberforce and the untiring exertions of a Clarkson resulted only in this deplorable exhibition of human degradation, and in casting a withering mildew over the social prosperity of this tropical garden of loveliness? Almost irredeemably sunk in the depths of sloth, ignorance, and depravity, she appeals to the philanthropists of the world to have pity upon her fallen condition. She implores of them, with outstretched arms, to educate her benighted population, who take no pride in her beauty, and feel no interest in her welfare. She looks, and there is none to help; and she wonders that there is none to uphold.' The humble efforts of a few sectarian preachers, and a few Sisters of Charity, avail but little. Unless something be speedily done for Jamaica, the great DISPOSER of human events can only foresee her mysterious destiny. As for myself, I shrink from the contemplation of the future.

JAMES LINEN.

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Stockbridge, Mass.

Plant we the forest trees,

Whose whispering shades shall pensive mourners throng,
And hear again loved voices borne along
The passing breeze.

Yes, we'll adorn the sod,

Whose verdure emblems ever more our love,
And there sweet converse hold with friends above,
And with our GOD.

'Tis not for them alone

The cherished burial-turf we honor thus;

We'll think 't is there loved ones will talk of us,
When we are gone.

E. W. B. CANNING.

THE GYPSIES

O F Ꭺ Ꭱ Ꭲ .

TRANSLATED FOR THE KNICKERBOCKER FROM HENRY MURGER'S SCENES DE LA BOHEME.'

BY CHARLES ASTOR BRISTED.

CHAPTER TEN.

THE ACTRESS AND THE

ENGLISHMAN.

ONCE on a time, Schaunard found himself in possession of two hundred francs, which extraordinary sum he had thus acquired:

He went one day to a musical editor, who had promised to procure

him among his customers either pupils or something to do.

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By Jove!' said the editor, on seeing him enter the shop, you are just in time. A gentleman has been here who wants a pianist; he is an Englishman, and will probably pay well. Are you really a good one?'

Schaunard reflected that a modest air might injure him in the editor's estimation. Indeed, a modest musician, and especially a modest pianist, is a rare creature. Accordingly he replied boldly :

'I am a first-rate one; if I only had a lung gone, long hair, and a black coat, I should be famous as the sun in the heaven; and instead of asking me eight hundred francs to engrave my composition The Death of the Damsel, you would come on your knees to offer me three thousand for it on a silver plate.'

The person whose address Schaunard took was an Englishman, name Birne.* The musician was first received by a servant in blue, who handed him over to a servant in green, who passed him on to a servant in black, who introduced him into a drawing-room where he found himself face to face with a Briton coiled up in an attitude which made him resemble Hamlet meditating on human nothingness. Schaunard was about to explain the reason of his presence when a sudden volley of

*THIS is probably the name MURGER was making a shot at when he wrote Birn'n — about as near as a Frenchman usually comes to an English word.

shrill cries cut short his speech. These horrid and ear-piercing sounds proceeded from a parrot hung out on the balcony of the story below.

'Oh! that beast! that beast!' exclaimed the Englishman, with a bound on his arm-chair; 'it will kill me.'

Thereupon the bird began to retort its vocabulary much more extensive than that of ordinary Pollies; and Schaunard stood stupefied when he heard the animal, prompted by a female voice, declaring the speech of Theramenes with all the professional intonations.

This parrot was the favorite of an actress who was then a great favorite herself, and very much the rage in her boudoir. She was one

of those women who, no one knows why or how, are quoted at fancy prices on the 'Change of dissipation, and whose names are inscribed on the bills-of-fare of young noblemen's suppers, where they form the live dessert. It gives a Christian standing now-a-days to be seen with one of these Pagans, who often have nothing of antiquity about them except their age. When they are handsome, there is no such great harm after all; the worst one risks is to sleep on straw in return for making them sleep on rose-wood. But when their beauty is bought by the ounce at the perfumer's, and will not stand three drops of water on a rag; when their wit consists in a couplet of a farce, and their talent lies in the hand of the claqueur, it is hard indeed to understand how respectable men with good names, ordinary sense, and decent coats, can let themselves be carried away by a common-place passion for these most mercenary creatures. The actress in question was one of these belles of the day. She called herself Dolores, and professed to be a Spaniard, although she was born in that Parisian Andalusia known as the Rue Coquenard. From there to the Rue de Provence is about ten minutes' walk, but it had cost her seven years to make the transit. Her prosperity had begun with the decline of her personal charms. She had a horse the day when her first false tooth was inserted, and a pair the day of her second. Now she was living at a great rate, lodging in a palace, driving four horses on holidays, and giving balls to which all Paris came. The all Paris of these ladies- that is to say, that collection of lazy seekers-after jokes and scandal; the all Paris that plays lansquenet; the pluggards of head and hand, who kill their own time and other people's; the writers who turn literary men to get some use out of the feather which nature placed on their backs; the bullies of the revel, the clipped and sweated gentlemen, the chevaliers of doubtful orders, all the vagabonds of kid-glove-dom, that come from GoD-knows-where, and go back thither again some day; all the marked and remarked notorieties; all those daughters of Eve who retail what they once sold wholesale; all that race of beings, corrupt from their cradle to their coffin, whom one sees on first nights at the theatre, with Golconda on their foreheads and Thibet on their shoulders, and for whom, notwithstanding, bloom the first violets of Spring and the first passions of youth — all this world which the chronicles of gossip call all Paris, was received by Dolores who owned the parrot aforesaid.

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This bird, celebrated for its oratorical talents among all the neighbors, had gradually become the terror of the nearest. Hung out on the balcony, it made a pulpit of its perch and kept out interminable harangues

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