coroner’s inquest brought in a verdict of ‘accidental death.’ There was some sort of a trial; but I believe there was a great deal said about it, that probably he did not deserve,—I think so.” This was the rector’s opinion: whether the gentleman alluded to was guilty, is more than I can say; we can but hope he was not. The matter rests between himself and his God; but if he did act in this manner, if he was guilty of these deaths, conscience must at times give him some sharp twinges.[10] I have in a former page referred to the trial of a planter for the murder of his slave. It did not occur in Antigua, I am happy to say; but as Antiguan barristers pleaded for and against the culprit, it may not be amiss to give a short account of it. The offender against justice was a member of the council at Tortola; and upon his estate in that island these horrible cruelties were perpetrated. I cannot go into the details of the case, which were most revolting in their circumstances; but will just give the heads. This man—this vampire he might be called—was found guilty, and executed upon the common gallows, for the murder of _one_ of his slaves, a poor African; but there were eight other indictments for murder ready made out against the same individual, whose cruelty of disposition was proverbial. “Prosper,” the name of the murdered man, was, as before remarked, a poor African, one who, to use the words of the counsel for the crown, “was murdered by the man, to promote whose interests the strength of his youth was exhausted;” and his crime was, eating one mango, which fell off a tree he was watching. For this one fault, the poor fellow was whipped, until not one piece of black skin was left upon him, from his hip to his hand; afterwards ironed, and thrown into a loathsome dungeon. The next day he was brought out and whipped again, because he had not six shillings to pay his master, (the sum demanded for the eaten mango, that would cost about three farthings sterling,) until nature was exhausted, and he fainted. But he awoke to consciousness and agony; the dungeon was again his refuge, and chained to two other objects of misery, he passed that wretched night. Here he remained five days, suffering unspeakable tortures; but at the end of that time, these three miserable creatures contrived to make their escape. Poor “Prosper,” however, was too near death to go far; he crawled into his own hut, which was near, and after lingering for a few days, expired,—a prey to the worms before the last sigh had left his lips. When discovered, his remains were so offensive, that a hole was dug at his hut door, he was shovelled in, a little dirt thrown over, and he was left to repose in his irons, until that great day, when master and slave must appear before one bar.[11] Who can read this account without a deep feeling of horror? What will my readers say when I further mention, that when this monster was brought up under a writ of