irretrievably impaired by the cold earthen floors on which they spend their lives-for, alas! piety the most sincere is no protection against the action of one of nature's most inflexible laws. Hannah's affliction was from a deep-seated rheumatism throughout the frame; all her joints were frightfully swollen, and her hands contracted, yet no one ever heard her complain. Her only anxiety was an intense desire to preserve her credit with the few respectable dealers in town from whom she had her small supplies of goods. As to her own bodily sufferings, she afforded a beautiful instance of pious resignation, and in her Christianity shone out something superior to what it usually appears even in the most favourable cases, for hers was of a practical, not a theoretic or formal order of belief. In her periods of greatest distress, she always spoke of the merciful way in which she had been sustained under her bodily anguish, and gratefully acknowledged that her chastening was for her good, and should be looked upon as a source of true consolation and ultimate happiness. This pious frame of mind sustained her to the end, and she died in the blessed hope of realising in a better world the enjoyments which in this were the constant theme of her contemplation."

THE SOLDIER'S WIDOW.

WITHIN a very few miles of Edinburgh there lives, or some time ago lived, an old woman, known among her neighbours by the name of "Auld Susan." She was the daughter of a small farmer in the north of England, and in early life married a private soldier in a Scotch regiment, which happened to be quar tered in the neighbourhood of her father's house. Having been on this account cast off and disowned by her parents, she followed her husband for many years during the early part of the last war, and in time became the mother of four sons, all of whom, as they grew up, attached themselves to the same regiment. After a long course of faithful service, Susan's husband was raised to the rank of sergeant; and as she was industrious and frugal, they contrived to make their situation more comfortable than that of a soldier's family generally is. Susan, however, had too much perilled upon the fortunes of war to continue long free from misery. She accompanied her husband and sons through the whole of the disastrous retreat of Sir John Moore. When the withdrawing army was finally engaged by the French at Corunna, she stood on a rising ground at no great distance from the field of action, ready to take charge of any of her family who might be obliged to retire disabled. While the fight was at the hottest, a wounded officer was borne past her, and on inquiring of the soldiers who carried him as to the fate of her husband and children. she was told that all. except one of the latter,

were "down;" they had fallen in receiving a desperate charge of French cavalry. At this moment the tide of battle receded from the part of the field which it had hitherto chiefly occupied, and Susan rushed eagerly forward amidst the dead and dying, in the hope of finding her husband and sons, or at least some of them, still alive. The first sight which met her eyes was the prostrate body of the fourth son, who within the last few minutes had also been brought down, and was now, as she thought, on the point of expiring. Ere she could examine into the condition of the wounded lad, a large party of the enemy's cavalry swept across the field, in full retreat before the British, and she had only time to throw herself over the body of her son, in the desperate hope of protecting him from further injury, when it swept over her like a whirlwind, leaving her with a broken leg and arm, and many severe bruises. In this helpless state she was found after the battle by a few survivors of the company to which she had belonged, and conveyed on board the transports along with the wrecks of the army. On inquiry, she found that the fate of her husband and three eldest sons was too fatally certain; that of the youngest was less so; his body had not been found; but there was little time for examination, and it seemed almost beyond a doubt that he had also shared the fate of his father and brothers.

Upon her arrival in England, the poor woman was sent to the hospital until her wounds were cured, but, after her recovery, was turned out desolate and destitute upon the world. A re presentation of her case to the War Office was unattended to; nor would her honest pride permit her to persist in importunity. The same independence of spirit forbade her seeking the assist ance of her relatives. By means of a small subscription raised among her late husband's comrades, she travelled on foot to the place of his birth near Edinburgh, and with what was left she was enabled to put a few articles of furniture into a cottage which a worthy farmer rented to her for an almost nominal sum. The same kind friend afterwards procured her, although not without difficulty, a small weekly allowance-a mere pittance→→ from the parish funds, with which, and by means of knitting, spinning, rearing a few chickens, and the various other humble expedients of helpless poverty (for she was disabled from field labour), she contrived to support existence in decency, if not in comfort.

Twelve years had passed away, and approaching age was gradually rendering the lonely widow less and less able to obtain the scanty means of sustenance, when one summer afternoon, as she sat knitting at the door of her cottage, a poor crippled object approached, dressed in rags, and weak from disease and fatigue. From the remnants of his tattered clothes, it was evident he had been a soldier, and the widow's heart warmed towards him, as, resigning to him her seat. she entered the cottage and brought

him out a drink of meal and water, being all that her humble store enabled her to offer for his refreshment. The soldier looked wistfully at her as he took the bowl-the next moment it dropped from his hand. "Mother!" he cried, and fell forward in the old woman's arms. It was her youngest son James, whom she thought she had left a corpse on the fatal field of Corunna. After mutually supposing each other to be dead for the long space of twelve years, these unfortunate beings were doomed to be re-united in this vale of sorrow, mutually helpless, feeble, and destitute. But the love of a mother neve dies; the poor widow scrupled not to solicit those aids for her son which she never would have asked for herself, and the assistance of some compassionate friends procured her the means of restoring him to health, although he never regained his full strength.

James's story, from the time of their last parting, was a short and sad one. He had recovered from the temporary trance into which his wound had at first thrown him, had seen his mother's mangled and apparently senseless body lying beside him, and, concluding she was dead, had endeavoured to crawl out of the way of further danger, but fell into the hands of a part of the enemy. He remained a prisoner in France for upwards of two years, when, an exchange having taken place, he was once more placed in the British ranks, and sent with his regiment to North America. He had served there during the whole war with the United States, and was subsequently transferred to a West India station, where his wounds broke out afresh, and his health declined, in consequence of the heat of the climate. Those acquainted with military matters will understand, although the writer of these lines confesses his inability exactly to describe, how a British soldier may be deprived of the recompense to which his wounds and length of service legally and justly entitle him. The poor man we speak of met this unworthy fate. He had, at his earnest request, been transferred into a regiment ordered for England (seeing certain death before him in the tropics), which was disbanded the moment of their arrival, and he was thrown utterly destitute, and left to beg or starve, after all his hardships and meritorious services to his country. Being unable to work, he was compelled to assume the mendicant's degraded habit, and had begged his way down to his father's birthplace in Scotland, in the hope of finding some of his relatives alive, and able to shelter him, when he unexpectedly recognised his old mother in the manner described.

This humble narrative is now concluded. At the time we became acquainted with the soldier's widow, which was some years ago, she was living with, and supported by, her son, in the neighbourhood of Edinburgh, concluding in obscure penury a life of hardship, exertion. and sorrow.

OTWITHSTANDING the efforts which have been made to suppress the slave trade, as many as 150,000 human beings-men, women, girls, and boys-are carried from Africa across the Atlantic annually. These cargoes of kidnapped negroes are designed for the slave markets of Brazil, Cuba, and some other American countries, including Texas, through which, as is believed, a number reach the United States, although the slave trade has been legally and ostensibly repudiated by that country.

SLAVERY IN BRAZIL AND CUBA.

Brazil, inhabited by a people of Portuguese origin and customs, is a vast tract of country in the South American continent, nearly as large as Europe, and rich in all the tropical products, sugar, coffee, cotton, &c. The population of Brazil is estimated at upwards of 5,000,000, and of these more than 2,000,000 are slaves; the rest are whites, either born in Brazil, or who have emigrated to it from various countries in Europe, Indians, and mixed races.

Although possessed of a large population of slaves, the increase by natural means is so slow, and the mortality, from various causes, is so great, that, in order to meet the increasing demand for labour in the mines and plantations of so rich a country, Brazil requires to import a great number of negroes annually from Africa. Notwithstanding, therefore, that this country took part with other nations in the movement for the abolition of the slave trade, made it illegal in 1831, and even declared it piracy,

an active slave trade is still carried on between Brazil and the African coast. The number of negroes imported is computed to be at least 50,000 annually. In 1829, the number imported was calculated at upwards of 70,000; and in 1838, it was stated, in a letter from Mr Jermingham to Lord Palmerston, that "the importation of slaves into Brazil was immense, and that they are cheaper now than when the traffic was legal, there being now no duty upon them." The number of vessels regularly employed in the slave trade, belonging to the different ports of Brazil, is very great; and it was said to be common some time ago "to see slave vessels, powerfully armed and manned, sail out in order to seize upon such weaker ships as they might encounter freighted with captives, and thus save themselves the risk and expense of a long voyage." The profits of the trade are believed to amount to 300 per cent.

In their passage across the Atlantic, the negroes suffer all those horrors arising from being crammed together in so small a space, which are greater now than even before the trade was prohibited. Sailing under the Portuguese, the Brazilian, or any other convenient flag, and having managed to escape the British cruisers, the slave vessel lands her wretched and diseased cargo at Rio Janeiro, or some other port of Brazil. Nothing like concealment is thought necessary. The slaves, when "landed, are generally taken to depôts along the coast, until recruited after their voyage: if not sold at the depôt, which often happens, they are marched openly in gangs into the interior. The slave-dealer works openly, except he desire to cheat the public officers of their share of the booty. But near the capital (Rio Janeiro) there is always a fear of too many claims on their bribery fund; hence a kind of precautionary method of moving the slaves is adopted in that vicinage. This covert line of procedure seems to be limited to the act of removal from place to place only; for there are houses in Rio Janeiro where they are generally known to be on sale."* Of the slaves thus imported, and distributed over the country for employment in the mines or on plantations, about two-thirds are males. Female slaves are not in demand; for it is found cheaper to import slaves than to rear them: slave-breeding, therefore, is not pursued as a profession here as it is in the United States. The price of a negro in Rio Janeiro varies from about £70 to £120 sterling; and so eager is the demand, that it is believed that were 10,000 Africans to be brought into that province every month, they would be all bought up.

The following extract from a letter written from a British vessel, and dated 9th January 1843, will give an idea of the conduct of the Brazilian government with reference to the slave trade, and of the way in which the negroes are disposed of on

* Anti-Slavery Reporter, Nov. 3, 1841.