The Melancholy Days Are Come, The Saddest

Features, The Great Soul's Apparent Seat.

The Hushed Winds Their Sabbath Keep.

The Groves Were God's First Temples.

The Blacks Of This Region Are A Cheerful, Careless, Dirty, Race, Not Hard Worked, And In Many Respects Indulgently Treated. It Is Of Course The Desire Of The Master That His Slaves Shall Be Laborious; On The Other Hand It Is The Determination Of The Slave To Lead As Easy A Life As He Can. The Master Has The Power Of Punishment On His Side; The Slave, On His, Has Invincible Inclination, And A Thousand Expedients Learned By Long Practice... Good Natured Though Imperfect And Slovenly Obedience On One Side, Is Purchased By Good Treatment On The Other.

Glorious Are The Woods In Their Latest Gold And Crimson.