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red plush waistcoat (the month being July), brown corduroy breeches with knee buckles, grey worsted hose, and large new square-toed shoes, with a pair of heavy silver buckles, once belonging to his mother, that, covering his little feet quite across, like a couple of pack-saddles, touched the ground, as he walked, on either side of them. Add to this, a stiff broad-brimmed beaver (padded within all round, to fit his tiny pate), under the shadow of which the baby-face was scarce discoverable, and the whole diminutive person moved like a walking

mushroom.

Proud was the boy of his first appearance, so equipped, before the assembled congregation; and very proud was Andrew Cleave, who felt as if now, indeed, he might assume unto himself, before the elders of his people, the honour of being father to a man-child.

From that day forth little Josiah, led in his father's hand, came regularly to church every Sabbath-day; but, alas! his after demeanour, during service, by no means realized the promise of that solemn propriety wherewith he comported himself on his first memorable appearance; and it soon required Andrew's utmost vigilance to rebuke and check his son's restless and mischievous propensities. Great was the father's horror and consternation, on detecting him in the very act of making faces at the Vicar himself, whose unfortunate obliquity of vision had excited the boy's monkey talent of mimicry; and, at last, the young rebel was suddenly and for ever deposed from his lofty station on the seat beside his father, for having taken a sly opportunity of pinning the hind bow of an old lady's bonnet to the back of her pew, whereby her bald pate was cruelly exposed to the eyes of the congregation, as she rose up, with unsuspecting innocence, at the Gloria Patri.

At home, too, Andrew soon discovered that his parental cares were likely to multiply in full proportion to his parental pleasures. Little Josiah was quick at learning, but of so volatile a spirit, that in the midst of one of his father's finest moral declamations, or most elaborate expoundings, he would dart off after a butterfly, or mount astride on the old sheep-dog; and at last, when sharply rebuked for his ir

reverent antics, look up piteously in his father's face, and yawn so disconsolately, that Andrew's iron jaws were fain to sympathize with the infectious grimace, to their owner's infinite annoyance. At meal times, it was wellnigh impossible to keep his little hands from the platter, while his father pronounced a long and comprehensive grace, with an especial supplication for the virtues of abstinence and forbearance; and so far from continuing to take pride in the manly dignity of his raiment, it became necessary to dock his waistcoat flaps, and the long skirts of his week-day coat, the pockets of the former being invariably crammed with pebbles, munched apples, worms, brown-sugar, snails, chafers, and all manner of abominations; and on the latter it was not only his laudable custom to squat himself in the mud and mire, but being of an imitative and inventive genius, and having somewhere read a history of the beavers, he forthwith began to practise their ingenious mode of landcarriage, by dragging loads of rubbish behind him on the aforesaid coat-tails, as he slid along in a sitting posture.

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Greatly did Andrew Cleave marvel that a son of his should evince such unseemly propensities, having perpetually before his eyes an example of sober seriousness and strict propriety. But, nevertheless, he doated on the boy with unabated fondness-toiled for him-schemed for him-waked for him-dreamt of him-lived in him-idolized him!-Yes !-Andrew Cleave, who had been wont to hold forth so powerfully on the sin and folly of idol worship, he set up in his heart an earthly image, and unconsciously exalted it above his Maker.

Andrew's cottage was situated on the extreme verge of a large and lonely common, which separated it from the village of Redburn, and it was also at a considerable distance from any other habitation. He had taken upon himself his son's early instruction, and it was consequently easy enough to maintain a point which he had much at heart, that of keeping the boy aloof from all intercourse with the village children, or indeed with any persons save himself and old Jenny, except in his company. This system, to which he rigidly adhered, had a very unfavourable effect on his own character, repressing in it all those kindlier and

more social feelings, which had almost struggled into preponderance, when the hard surface was partially thawed by the new sense of parental tenderness, and while his son was yet a cradled babe, and he had nothing to apprehend for him on the score of evil communications. But now he guarded him, as misers guard their gold. As he himself, alas! hoarded the Mammon of unrighteousness (his secondary object) but "solely for his darling's sake." So Andrew compromised the matter with his conscience; and so he would have answered to any inquiring Christian.

The boy, though thus debarred from all communication save with his father and old Jenny, was nevertheless as happy as any child of the same age. He had never known the pleasures of association with youthful playmates he was full of animal spirits and in vention, particularly in the science of mischief-he completely ruled over Jenny in the absence of his father, and (except at lesson times, and on Sabbaths) had acquired more ascendancy over that stern father himself, than Andrew anyway suspected.

The interval between the boy's fourth and seventh year was, perhaps, the happiest in the whole lives of father and son ; but that state of things could not continue. Andrew Cleave had aspiring views for his young Josiah—and it had always been his intention to give him "the best of learning" in furtherance of which purpose, he had looked about him almost from the hour of the boy's birth, for some respectable school wherein to place him, when his own stock of information became incompetent to the task of teaching. He had at last pitched upon a grammar school in the county town, about five miles from his own habitation, where the sons of respectable tradesmen and farmers were boarded and taught upon moderate terms; though, to do Andrew justice, saving considerations were not paramount with him, when his son's welfare was concerned, and he was far more anxious to ascertain that his morals, as well as his learning, would be strictly attended to. On that head, he, of course, received the most satisfactory assurances from the master of the "academy for young gentlemen," and having likewise ascertained that the boy would have an ample allow

ance of wholesome food, it is not wonderful that Andrew Cleave threw the "moderate terms" as the third weight into the scale of determination.

The greater number of the boys,those whose parents were dwellers in the town of C, were only dayboarders; but some, whose families lived at a greater distance, went home on Saturdays only, to spend the Sabbath-day; and it was Andrew's private solace, to think that the separation from his child would be rendered less painful by that weekly meeting. It had taken him full six months, and sundry journeyings to and fro, to make all his arrangements with the master. But at last they were completed, and nothing remained but the trial-the hard, hard trial-of parting with that creature who constituted his all of earthly happiness. Andrew was a hard man, little susceptible of tender weakness in his own nature, and ever prone to contemn and censure in others the indulgence of any feeling incompatible (in his opinion) with the dignity of a man, and the duty of a Christian.

His God was not a God of love; and when he rebuked the natural tears of the afflicted, the submissive sorrows of the stricken heart,-it was in blind forgetfulness of him who wept over the grave of his friend Lazarus. He had honoured his parents during their lifetime, and buried them with all decent observance; but with no other outward demonstration of woe, than a more sombre shade on his al"The deways severe countenance. sire of his eyes" was taken from him, and he had shown himself a pattern of pious resignation. And now he was to part with his son for a season, and who could doubt that the temporary sacrifice would be made with stoical firmness? And so it should verily, was Andrew's purpose ;-upon strength of which he proceeded, with old Jenny's advice and assistance, to make requisite preparation for the boy's equipment. Nay, he was so far master of himself, as to rebuke the old woman's foolish fondness, when she remarked "how lonesome the cottage would seem when the dear child was gone;" and he expressed himself the more wrathfully, from the consciousness of a certain unwonted rising in his throat, which half choked him as he went "maundering on."

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To the child himself, he had not yet

own acres.

He kept firm to his post, however, till the usual dinner hour, and even left the field with his labourers, without deviating from his accustomed firm, deliberate step; but when they had turned out of sight to their own homes, then Andrew speeded on rapidly towards his cottage, till just within sight of it he spied the little Josiah running forward to meet him. Then again he slackened his pace, for his heart shrunk from the first burst of the boy's impetuous sorrow.

breathed a syllable of his intentions, and yet more than twice or thrice he had taken him on his knee, to tell him of the approaching change. But something always occurred to defer the execution of his purpose-the boy stopt his mouth with kisses-or he prattled so there was no getting in a word edgeways-or it would do as well in the evening, when he came home from his fields. But then, the young one came running to meet him, and had always so much to ask and tell, that the important communication was still delayed. In the morning, before he rose from his pillow, he would tell it as the boy lay still by his side; but while the secret was actually on his lips, his little bedfellow crept into his bosom, and nestled there so lovingly, that his voice died away, as it were, into the very depths of his heart, and the words were yet unspoken. At length he hit upon the opportunity, which was sure to present itself ere long. The next time Josiah was idle and refractory at his lessonsthat very moment, in the strength of indignation, he would tell him he was to leave his father's roof, and be consigned to the rule of strangers. Alas! that fitting occasion was in vain laid wait for-Josiah truly did his best to forward it, but the father could not be angry and he could not speak.

At last, seriously angry with himself-humiliated at the triumph of human weakness, to which he had hitherto boasted himself superiorAndrew departed one morning to his labours earlier than usual, having deputed to Jenny the task, to which he felt himself unequal. All that morning the father's thoughts were with his child. He pictured to himself the first burst of distress-the first grievous surprise-the inconsolable sorrow at the thought of parting-and he longed to return, and clasp the boy to his heart, and to kiss off the tears from his dear face, and comfort him with soothing words and indulgent promises.

But still as the fond impulse rose within him, he wrestled with it manfully, and lashed on his team, and laid his hand upon the plough, as if to support himself in resolute forbearance. No wonder the furrows Andrew traced that day were the most uneven he had ever drawn, since the hour he first guided his own plough on his

But those apprehensions were soon exchanged for feelings of a more irritable nature, when he perceived that the merry urchin bounded towards him with more than his usual exuberant glee; and the first words he distinguished were,-" Father, father, I'm going to school!-I'm going to school! I'm going to town, father!I'm going to school! When shall I go?-Shall I go to-morrow? Shall I take my new clothes, father? And my hoop, and my lamb, and old Dobbin ?"

A bitter pangit was that shot through Andrew's heart at that moment a bitter revulsion of feeling was that he experienced. He made no allowance for the volatile nature of childhood-its restless desire of change and love of novelty, its inconsideration -its blissful recklessness of the future. He read only in the boy's exulting rapture, that this his only, only child

the only creature he had ever loved -who had slept in his bosom, and prattled on his knee, and won from him such fond indulgences as he could scarce excuse to his own consciencethis darling of his age, now on the eve of a first separation, broke out into extravagant joy at the prospect, and testified no anxiety, but to take with him his playthings, and his dumb favourites. The sudden revulsion of feeling came upon Andrew like an ice-bolt, and there he stood motionless, looking sternly and fixedly on the poor child, who was soon awed and silenced by his father's unwonted aspect, and stood trembling before him, fearing he knew not what. At last he softly whispered, sidling closely up, and looking earnestly and fearfully in his father's face," Shall I not go to school then? Old Jenny said I should."

That second, quiet interrogatory restored to Andrew the use of speech, and the mastery over all his softer

feelings. "Yes," he replied, taking the boy's hand, and grasping it firmly within his own, as he led him homeward-"Yes, Josiah, you shall go to school-you have been kept too long at home-to-morrow is the Sabbath-but on Monday you shall go. On Monday, my child, you shall leave your father."

That last sentence, and a something he perceived, but comprehended not, in his father's voice and manner, painfully affected the boy, and he burst into tears, and, clinging to his father's arm, sobbed out,-"But you will go with me, father; and you will come and see me every day, will you not? And I shall soon come home again."

That artless burst of natural affection fell like balın on Andrew's irritated feelings, and he caught up his

child to his bosom, and blessed and kissed him, and then they "reasoned together" and the father told his boy how he should fetch him home every Saturday with Dobbin; and how they should still go hand-in-hand to church on the Sabbath; and how his lamb, and the grey colt, should be taken care of in his absence; and his hoop and other toys might be carried with him to school.

Then the child began again his joyous prattle, with now and then a sob between; and the father kissed his wet glowing cheek, carrying him all the way home in his arms; and thus lovingly they entered the little garden, and the pretty cottage, and sat down side by side, to the neat homely meal old Jenny had provided.

SIB,

BRITISH AFRICA-SIERRA LEONE.

REPORT OF THE PARLIAMENTARY COMMISSIONERS.

To R. W. Hay, Esq.

THE appearance of the official report by the Commissioners sent out by Government, in obedience to the will of Parliament, in order to investigate into the situation of Sierra Leone, in some measure compels me to resume my pen, to follow out a painful and disgusting subject-a subject, the details of which are most humiliating to my country, and most injurious and degrading to Africa.

It is, moreover, due to the cause of truth, and to the HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS of the more intelligent ranks of my fellow-subjects, who, throughout the wide extent of the British dominions, read the columns of the influential Journal in which I have the honour to address you-it is due to these ranks, to lay before them, from official authority, a full confirmation of every particular which has at any time been advanced by me regarding a detestable place, and against a pernicious system. This labour is also rendered necessary, in consequence of the unprincipled personal attacks which have been made, and circulated by their authors widely throughout the country, at the expense, I believe, of those funds bestowed by

humanity to enlighten Africa; and which have been farther reiterated and sharpened by venal pens, which make (to use their own words) "gain of godliness ;"-by men "who glory in their shame," who "have no characters to lose," and who court " disgraceful notoriety," but, in some instances, in columns too polluted, degraded, and insignificant, to bring to your knowledge.

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The object I had in view, was the exposure and the overthrow of a system of falsehood, deception, and error, long continued, firmly fixed, and strongly guarded, alike injurious to the character of this country and to the improvement of Africa. Goaded on, however, by the demon of the place, and in an evil hour for himself, Mr Kenneth Macaulay, in defence of what is indefensible, has adopted an opposite course, and which, for a moment, and but for a moment, compels me to deviate from the path which I had resolved to pursue. The opponents of truth must be met on the ground which they have chosen, and with the weapons selected by themselves, especially when, in a public question, these can be turned against them with justice and with effect.

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the lowest servant in the Colonial Of fice will at once pitch upon the author, or compiler, or composer, without the aid of African enchantment, or further information.

Before proceeding to bring before you farther information concerning the morals and condition of the population of Sierra Leone; and before proceeding to call your attention to the details given by the Commissioners, it may not be unnecessary to state, as I now most distinctly do, that I never asked, and never received, from any one in any manner connected with his Majesty's Government, a single syllable of information concerning Sierra Leone and its affairs. You will pardon me when I state, that to such a source I should never have thought of applying, even were such open to me; because, till lately, his Majesty's Government was kept wholly ignorant of what was going on in that place, and systematically deceived by the real rulers of it.

In exposing this den of death, and in dragging to light this system of iniquity, things have been stated which, to sober minds and honest hearts, will appear incredible. But the proofs are at hand and ready, and my opponents are challenged to appear before any tribunal, but a tribunal appointed by themselves, or under their immediate influence, and they shall be met. Even by their own witnesses they shall be convicted in every point.

You cannot fail to know that Sierra Leone has been represented by those interested in the spot, and believed by the credulous people of Great Britain, to be a place and a country equal to the Garden of Eden before the fall of our first parents, in extent, in fertility, in salubrity of climate, and in purity of character. Under this impression, worthy and intelligent men have stood forward, and, in this country, been led to advocate the cause of a place,

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THE MOTHER OF HARLOTS AND ABOMINATIONS OF THE EARTH!"

The Quarterly Review, which gives, when it inclines, a severe hit, and which possesses very accurate information concerning this celebrated spot, lays before us (No. 71, p. 118 and 119) a correct picture of its religion and morals, comprehended in observations made upon an account of its twin sister, Bakhara. "In that country," says the able critic, "nothing appears to flourish but PRAYING AND CONCUBINAGE, which are sometimes found to go together IN OTHER COUNTRIES besides Mawenelnahar :" The KHAN sets the example of the former, by maintaining, for his own use, no less than TWO HUNDRED WOMEN; and the Mullahs of the latter, by compelling, with the whip, all citizens to attend the usual hours of worship at some one or other of the numerous mosques, which, with the colleges and schools, occupy a large share of the capital. This whipping-in of the lazy Mussulmans to prayers was the daily practice of Beggee Jân, the predecessor of the present Khan, whose singular character and habits are so well described by an English Elchee-the same holy usurper, of whom the King of Persia used to say, "that he sold true Believers like cattle in the market place of Bakhara.”

Bakhara is Bakhara, and Sierra Leone is Sierra Leone; and as there are lazy Mussulmans in the former, so are there in the latter, and rulers, too, with the authority and the passions of Khans. If a Sierra Leone Khan is not seen descending from his Harem to whip in the "lazy" unbelievers to prayers, he may be seen whipping them for skulking from prayers, which is much the same thing. "Concubinage," however, flourishes more in Sierra Leone than "PRAYING" (such as that is); the former is the general rule, the latter, together with marriage, the exceptions; and no one knows better than Mr Kenneth Macaulay, that Khans in Sierra Leone may keep, and do keep, Harems, peopled both with true believers and with unbelievers. A predecessor of the present

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