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 then, if you've any pity, and ask him if we shall be lost." "There's no danger, as far as I can judge; the engines work regularly, and the ship obeys her helm." The Mayflower gave a heavier roll than usual. "Oh my God! Oh Heaven!" shrieked the unhappy lady; "forgive me ! Mercy! mercy!" A lull followed, in which she called to one of her slaves for a glass of water; but the poor creature was too ill to move, and, seeing that her mistress was about to grow angry, I went up to the saloon for it. On my way to the table I nearly tumbled over a prostrate man, whom I had noticed the night before as conspicuous for his audacious and hardy bearing. "I guess we're going to Davy Jones," he said, "I've been saying my prayers all night—little good, I guess. "I've been a sinner too long. I've seen many a"—a groan followed. I looked at the reckless speaker. He was lying on the floor, with his hat and shoes off, and his rifle beside him. His face was ghastly, but, I verily believe, more from the effects of sea-sickness than fear. He begged me, in feeble tones, to get him some brandy; but I could not find anybody to give it to him, and went down with the water.

The two slaves were as frightened as people almost stupified by sickness could be; but when I asked one of the freed negresses if she were alarmed, she said, "Me no fear; if me die, me go to Jesus Christ; if me live, me serve him here—better to die!"

It has been said that "poverty, sickness, all the ills of life, are Paradise to what we fear of death"—that "it is not that life is sweet, but that death is bitter." Here the poet and the philosopher might have learned a lesson.