NOTES OF THE MONTH. 445. 



A story is related, by BRYAN EDWARDS, of a negro who fell asleep, 

 and not waking when called, a companion jogged him, exclaiming, 

 " You no heree massa call you ?" " Sleep," said the poor jfellow, 

 and again closing his eyes, " Sleep no hub massa." The following 

 anecdote is perhaps of a more original cast : A tradesman came to 

 town with his negro, and being disappointed in not receiving some 

 money he expected (no unusual thing in Port of Spain), the man on 

 asking the master for something to eat, received for reply that he 

 must wait a little, as he had then no money." " No hab money !" said 

 the man, whose wit had evidently been sharpened by a visit to the 

 grog-shop, " dat somebody who no hab corn, no hab business for keep 

 Jowl!" <f Have patience !" said the master. "Hab patience!" retorted 

 the negro, " patience mid full belly sabby tell hungry belly ' keep 

 heart ?" 



Negroes are said to be as fond of set speeches as professional 

 orators ; yet amidst their verbose and tautological harangues, we 

 meet, if not good argument, at least that which resembles, and even 

 supersedes its necessity that is to say, acute illustration. Does a 

 negro wish to express that it in folly to brave danger unnecessarily, 

 this he will not do by mode and figure ; but will at once say " Crab 

 what walk too much go 'na pot." Does he wish to indicate that obli- 

 vion generally follows the death of any one, he says, te When man 

 dead, grass grow at him door." Nor are there wanted instances of 

 a higher kind of eloquence. An old negro having been beaten by a 

 young one, the former was called to give an account of the transac- 

 tion. Instead of coming directly to the point, he brought a little 

 negro child a little woolly-headed knave and holding the ebony- 

 skin'ed infant up in one hand, spoke to the following effect : " Do 

 you see this boy ? When that man (pointing to his opponent) came 

 from Guinea no bigger than this child, he was given by the white 

 people into my charge ; when he called for his father I consoled him ; 

 when he wept for his mother I dried his tears ; when hungry, my 

 plantains fed when weary, my bed supported him ; until my kind- 

 ness drove both father and mother from his memory, for I was both 

 to him. For this I am well repaid ! f Nourish a young serpent, and 

 when big enough it will sting you/ Now he has grown as tall and 

 stately as a Palmiste, while my own hair is as white as a cotton 

 shrub, he abuses me, he curses me, he strikes me ! Ah Cudgo, Cudgo! 

 'tis not me you insult, 'tis the ghost of your father ! 'tis not me you 

 curse/ tis the spirit of your mother ! 'tis not against me your impious 

 hands are raised, 'tis against Heaven !" 



A QUESTION FOR THE ST. SIMONIANS. At the Warwick assizes, 

 on Friday, March 7> William Ross, aged seventy-four, was found 

 guilty of the murder of a woman with whom he had cohabited. The 

 sentence of death, which was passed in a most solemn manner, did 

 not appear to cause the slightest emotion in the prisoner. On goin^ 

 from the bar, he said " he had lived a long life, that he could not 

 expect to live much longer, and that he might as well die now as at 

 any other time." 



