which he receives, the negro-slave becomes either good or bad.
A French planter at Cuba, M. Chapeaud, went to Europe a few months since, and before his departure left the care of his plantation and his negro-slaves to a majoral in whom he had confidence. He, however, was a stern and brutal-tempered man, who treated the slaves with severity and violence, and before a month had elapsed the whole working population of the plantation was in a state of complete tumult, and the life of the majoral was in danger. Madame Chapeaud—a lady whom I should like to be acquainted with—seeing this state of things, determined to dismiss the majoral and take upon herself his duties. Screened by an umbrella from the heat of the sun's rays, she herself went out with the negroes upon the sugar-cane fields, watched them at their work, attended them home, and looked after their food and their comfort, treating them all according to justice and reason. From this moment the most perfect order and obedience prevailed on the plantation. The slaves worked willingly, and were anxious to evince their devotion to the estimable lady, who continued to exercise the duty of a majoral on the plantation, until a man was found capable of governing the plantation according to her views.
My last Evening at La Concordia.—Cuculios are shining beside me in the glass, and I could write by their light. I write, however, by one made by human hands, because the light, although not so beautiful, is yet stronger. It is my last evening at La Concordia. I have become acquainted with much that is beautiful in nature and in man at this place, for which I shall be eternally thankful. One thought makes me especially happy. I came hither unknown, even by literary reputation,—because it is very seldom that European books reach Cuba—without any other recommendation than that of being a stranger from a far-distant land—the land of Gustavus Adolphus,
