CONTENTS.

DEMERARA.
CHAP. PAGE
1.Sunrise brings Sorrow in Demerara[1]
2.Law endangers Property in Demerara[14]
3.Prosperity impoverishes in Demerara[28]
4.Childhood is Wintry in Demerara[45]
5.No haste to the Wedding in Demerara[58]
6.Man worth less than Beast in Demerara[64]
7.Christianity difficult in Demerara[81]
8.The Proud covet Pauperism in Demerara[93]
9.Calamity welcome in Demerara[103]
10.Protection is Oppression in Demerara[113]
11.Beasts hunt Men in Demerara[123]
12.No Master knows his Man in Demerara[129]

DEMERARA.

Chapter I.
SUNRISE BRINGS SORROW IN DEMERARA.

The winter of the tropics is the most delicious of all seasons of any climate to inhabitants of the temperate zone. The autumnal deluge is over: there is no further apprehension of hurricanes for many months: the storms of hail are driven far southwards by the steady north winds, which spread coolness and refreshment among the groves and over the plains. The sea, whose rough and heavy swell seemed but lately to threaten to swallow up the island and desolate the coasts, now spreads as blue as the heavens themselves, and kisses the silent shore. Inland, the woods are as leafy as in an English June; for there, buds, blossoms, and fruits abound throughout the year. The groves of cedar and mahogany, of the wild cotton-tree and the fig, form an assemblage of majestic columns, roofed by a canopy of foliage which the sun never penetrates, while the winds pass through, and come and go as they list. In the richest regions of this department of the globe, the cane-fields look flourishing at this season, and coffee-plantations clothe the sides of the hills. All inanimate things look bright; and birds of gay plumage, and animals of strange forms and habits add to the interest and beauty of the scene in the eye of a stranger.

The brightest beauty, the deepest interest, however, is not for strangers, but for those who return to a region like this after years of absence, like two travellers who were hastening, one fine January day, to reach their long-left home,—a plantation in Demerara. Alfred Bruce and his sister Mary had been sent to England for their education when they were, the one seven, the other six years of age. They had spent fourteen years without seeing their parents, except that their father paid one short visit to England about the middle of the time. Of him, they had, of course, a very vivid recollection, as they believed they had of their mother, of their nurse, of the localities of the plantation, and the general appearance of the country. They now, however, found themselves so much mistaken in the last particular, that they began to doubt the accuracy of their memories about the rest.

On landing, they had been full of delight at the contrast between an English and a Guiana winter. When they had gone on board, in the Thames, a thick fog had hung over London, and concealed every object from them but the houses on the banks, which looked all the more dingy for the snow which lay upon their roofs. When they landed, their native shores reposed in the serene beauty of an evening sunshine. By as bright a sunshine they were lighted on the next day; and it still shone upon them as they approached their father’s estate; but it no longer seemed to gladden them, for they became more and more silent, only now and then uttering an exclamation.

“How altered every place looks!” said Mary. “The birds seem the only living things.”

A servant, who had come to meet the travellers with the carriage, reminded her that it was now the time of dinner, and that in an hour or so the slaves would be seen in the fields again.