CANNIBALISM. 



238 



On our arrival at the plantation, unfortunately, 

 the Scotch terrier was missing ; nor could anybody 

 conjecture what was become of him. A batch of 

 newly-imported slaves, having been located on the 

 property, a hint was given, that possibly the dog 

 might have found its way, against its will, into 

 one of their huts. This was actually the case. 

 With a long stick thrust through it from stern to 

 stem, the dog was found half roasted at the fire. 

 It had not been skinned; — neither had the intes- 

 tines been taken out. So there it was, woodcock 

 like, and would soon have been ready for the 

 negroes dinner. 



One could hardly have conceived a scene more 

 ludicrous. The Irish gentleman raved with 

 vexation. The lieutenant of artillery shrugged 

 up his shoulders as he viewed the smoking dog; 

 and we ourselves, confiding in the Irishman's known 

 good humour, laughed most immoderately. Thus 

 ended the expected diversion at the Irish gen- 

 tleman's plantation; verifying the old Spanish 

 proverb in 6 Don Quixote,' "there is nothing 

 certain in this life : — sometimes a man goes in 

 quest of one thing, and finds another." 



