THE SLAVE SHIPS.

BY JOHN G. WHITTIER.

That fatal, that perfidious bark,

Built i' the eclipse, and rigged with curses dark." Milton's Lycidas.

The French ship Le Rodeur, with a crew of twenty-two men, and with one hundred and sixty negro slaves, sailed from Bonny in Africa, April, 1819. On approaching the line, a terrible malady broke out-an obstinate disease of the eyes-contagious, and altogether beyond the resources of medicine. It was aggravated by the scarcity of water among the slaves, (only half a wine glass per day being allowed to an individual,) and by the extreme impurity of the air in which they breathed. By the advice of the physician, they were brought upon deck occasionally; but some of the poor wretches, locking themselves in each other's arms, leaped overboard, in the hope, which so universally prevails among them, of being swiftly transported to their own homes in Africa. To check this, the captain ordered several, who were stopped in the attempt, to be shot, or hanged, before their companions. The disease extended to the crew; and one after another was smitten with it, until only one remained unaffected. Yet even this dreadful condition did not preclude calculation: to save the expense of supporting slaves rendered unsaleable. and to obtain grounds for a claim against the underwriters, thirty-six of the negroes, having become blind, were thrown into the sea and drowned!

The

In the midst of their dreadful fears lest the solitary individual, whose sight remained unaffected, should also be seized with the malady, a sail was discovered. It was the Spanish slaver, Leon. The same disease had been there; and, horrible to tell, all the crew had become blind! Unable to assist each other, the vessels parted. Spanish ship has never since been heard of. The Rodeur reached Guadaloupe on the 21st of June; the only man who had escaped the disease, and had thus been enabled to steer the slaver into port, caught it in three days after its arrival-Speech of M. Benjamin Constant, in the French Chamber of Deputies, June 17, 1820.

"THE ONE IDEA."

BY SARAH JANE CLARKE.

"We hold these truths to be self-evident; that all men are created equal; that they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness

Our glorious one Idea!

From the source of life it came, And it shineth far and mounteth high, An ever living flame.

Then let it burn! what mortal hand
Its fiery wing shall bind?
For it hath reached the moral wastes,
The prairies of the mind!

It sweepeth off the wild, rank growth
Of prejudice and wrong,

As, fanned by mighty viewless wings,
It rolls and leaps along!

Our men are men of One Idea !"
Ah, thou must elsewhere turn
For gloomy and unsocial churls,
Ascetics hard and stern

For pilgrims toiling on to pay

Their cold reluctant vows

For prophets, in woe's sackcloth clad,
And dust upon their brows.

Thus come our band-impassioned zeal
Lights their uncowering eyes,
And on their brows a cheerful faith
Like Heaven's own sunshine lies!

Their father's glory, as an Ark,

Moving in light before themThe promises of Freedom's God,

As rainbows bending o'er them!

Their foes, like pirates half o'ercome,
Stand fierce and stern at bay,
Or like a sullen convict gang,

Go scowling on their way;

But as to some high festival,
Our glad band sweeps along-
And now rings out a joyous laugh,

And now peels out a song!

Their steeps keep time to freedom's march, Sounding within the soul,

And high, and broad, and startling truths Their daring hands unroll,

And rear with bold, exulting shouts, Aloft in freedom's air,

Till they float before a gazing world As glorious banners, there!

Our wives, our girls, of "One Idea!"
In each devoted mind

It dwells in beauty and in power,
Like a deity enshrined.
They are no slavish devotees,
Cloistered in gloom and night,
Their life is like a morn in May,

Flowers, dew, and warm sunlight:
The flowers of good and modest deeds,
The dew of generous love,

The sunlight of that perfect peace

Which cometh from above.

They have that strong, brave, soaring hope
Which true-soul freedom brings,
That earnest, fearless, fervent faith,
In all good, blessed things!
That beautiful, impassioned love,
That worship of the truth,
That flings around their fleeting years,
Immortal bloom and youth.

So far beneath their lofty gaze

Rank's vain distinctions lie,

They could stand before a crowned queen
And look her in the eye,—

Then turn, and smile on honest worth,
Though Monarchs on it frowned-

And bow to royal intellect,

Though by the world uncrowned.

And yet no stern Zenobias,

No maids of Orleans they,
Ye seek in vain their gentle forms
Amid the stormy fray;

But once name Freedom's holy war
A crusade mad and vain,

And dare to sneer at human rights,
As phantoms of the brain-

Then cringe beneath each lightning glance
Their proud eyes on thee fling,
As in their souls the "One Idea"
Unfurls its flashing wing!

Now blessed Father of us all,
God of the bond and free!
Regard in mercy still our foes,
The foes of liberty!

Lead them from error's labyrinth,
To tread the paths of right-
Pour on their poor benighted minds,
Truth's clear and perfect light!
Oh! break upon the sleep of death

That wraps their moral powers-
Breathe in them as a living soul,
This One Idea" of ours!