That the remark is specious, I do not mean to deny; and many, I fear, have too hastily made up their minds on the subject from this consideration alone. But let me also ask a question or two in return. From whom is it expected that this information should be derived? Who are the persons qualified to produce the authentic evidence? Will the merciful slave-merchant step forward, and give up the long catalogue of rapacity, murder, and destruction, his own avarice has framed; Will the humane Guinea-Captain produce his fatal muster-roll,—and for once impelled by justice, change that _useful_ disease,—_Flux_, _Flux_, _Flux_, which has hitherto so conveniently masked the death-list of his devoted crew, to the _real_, the mortal causes, that have thinned his ship? Will petty officers, bravely despising all thoughts of preferment, disregarding the opinion of owners and agents, and nobly resolving to pass their lives in labour, wretchedness, and servile dependance—will they disclose the horrid scenes they have been witnesses to—the barbarities they have seen practised, and the cruelties, of which, they themselves have been, perhaps, the unwilling instruments? And yet we have information on the subject: information in newspapers, in pamphlets, in coffee-houses, and on 'change; on the warrantable, the political, the humane process of the Slave-Trade. Heavens!—Through _what_ channels must flow the sullied accounts that are thus thrown before us? Through the self interested affirmations of _Traders_; through _Captains_, whose continuance in the employ depends on their open attachment and defence of the proceedings of their owners; through _Captains_, I say, who hope to be Traders, and through _Mates_, who hope to be Captains. Why those, who through inclination, and having no favour to purchase, nor interest to support, and who might be supposed to give the truth in plain, unbiassed information, are not produced in such multitudes as our adversaries demand, I shall endeavour to prove impossible, from the nature of the trade, and the unremitting pains taken to prevent their returning to the port from which they sailed.