The vessel made considerable way during the night, and the morning rose, with glorious splendour and beneficent freshness, upon the world of waters; on the majestic bosom of which, floated such an accumulation of moral turpitude and excelling misery! The hour arrived when the slaves were to be brought on deck for air and exercise. The sable warrior anticipated it with a gloomy joy, as the most favourable opportunity of effecting his designed purpose of self-destruction; and when he found he was to be fastened to the deck, he violently resisted. This, however, did but provoke his oppressors to increased indignities. In the midst of this struggle, he became calm as a lamb, resistless as an infant. The sound of a female voice, singing a mournful African air, seemed to have bound him by a potent spell. (Note P.) His eyes appeared as if bursting from their orbits, his whole frame trembled; while the big tear rolled silently down his sable countenance, which assumed a mingled expression of doubt, hope, and agony. He at first directed his piercing eyes to the air, as if he thought the song proceeded from some hovering, viewless spirit. He again renewed his efforts to get free, and fixed his gaze intently on the remotest part of the ship, from whence the sound seemed to proceed, but nothing met his view: the song, however, still continued, only interrupted, at intervals, by deep sobs of anguish, and the scarcely-heard voice of infantine distress. Rendered desperate by the confinement under such powerful emotions, he called loudly on the spirits of his fathers, to avenge him on the Christian tyrants; and while enduring, in consequence, the cruel scourging and insulting mockery of the barbarian crew, a piercing scream was heard, and the poor Imihie was seen rushing from an obscure place, (in which the captain had indulged her to remain,) with the infant Samboe clinging to her bosom. In a moment the names of Tumiáh! Imihie! were interchanged; and the exhausted Imihie, letting her child fall from her relaxing arms, threw herself upon the panting bosom of her enchained and manacled husband. We invade not the feelings of that moment: language has nothing to do with them. The Being who formed the heart of man, can alone judge of its emotions.