Page:An Epistle to Posterity.djvu/92

Rh scene, one that strangers never forget. We have an African prince named Manuel, who was brought here when he was a boy. He was very unruly, but kindness has tamed him."

So I saw Manuel, the African prince, and many another with the original brand of the slave-ships on their foreheads, and they played the rude drum (which was a skin pulled over the head of a barrel) with their thumbs, as they sang a monotonous chant in the minor key (all savage music is in the minor key, and is profoundly sad, never joyous); and they danced, wildly, savagely — as a bird might fly, with one of its wings broken.

Our next expedition was to the house of an old Scotch knight, Sir Matthew Macdonald, whose house commanded a splendid view. We found the old man of scientific attainments at his post of observation, noting barometers and thermometers and Nature generally.

Two naval officers were of our party; their ship, a fine man-of-war flying the Stars and Stripes, lay in the harbor. Sir Matthew showed great interest in these, and opened a musty yellow volume in which he recorded the name, tonnage, number of guns, etc.

"This I have done for fifty years," said the old gentleman. "My interest in this world is bounded by what comes into these seas which lie under my eyes — by Nature, which lies all about me, and the heavens above me. I do not care for society, for politics, for the performance of man in the theatre of this world. So long as friends choose to come to me here, they are welcome; I go nowhere. It may be a selfish existence, but to me it is a happy one, and it hurts no one." After taking coffee with Lady Macdonald, Sir Matthew led us into a ruined, desolated wing of his house to show us the