carries the food and water that serve them
for breakfast. As they approach the coffee
warehouse, the mother orders the children
to sit down and get their breakfast.

That was a diabolical invention of the
director to excite still more the hunger and
thirst of his prisoner; to sharpen his
appetite and increase his agony by letting him
see with what eagerness and joy the children
devoured all that was given them.
The director himself stood at a short
distance, to be able to discern the effect of this
strategy on the countenance of the miserable
slave. When the meal was over, the
creole-mamma went away with her troop of
juveniles, and the starved Herman remained
alone in his misery, still further increased by
the joy he had seen pictured on the
countenances of the children, happy in their
bananas and cans of water.

But such barbarity is unnatural, you will
perhaps say. What could be the motive
that urged the director to such cruelty?
The loss of his calf might betray him into
an ungovernable passion for a moment, but
at the end of twenty-four hours that passion
must have cooled down. How was this
lingering desire for martyring possible?
What had the slave done to him?

I admit that there must be a strong reason
to induce some people in Surinam, who are at
liberty to do as they like with their fellow-
creatures, whom they are pleased to call their
slaves, to perpetrate such torturings and
cruelties; and here was such a reason. You
shall see what it is, if you will follow the
director, who, after enjoying the sight of the
feasting creole children and the starving
Herman, slowly withdrew. He returned home.

He sat down in his verandah, and a
servant brought him his coffee. While he
was indulging in this tasty beverage, two
female slaves slowly approached their master.
One was a woman of about forty, though to
appearance much older; the other was her
daughter, a beautiful girl of that dubious
age when the child merges into maidenhood.
The jet-black eyes, that otherwise shone
with light and life, had become red with
weeping, while her mother shed bitter tears,
and sobbed aloud. Both fell on their knees
before the merciless director.

"Pardon for Herman," implored the
mother.

"Pardon for my father," sobbed the child.

The director very complacently put down
his coffee, and, with a smile curling up his
lip, he stared at the two women kneeling
before him.

"Pardon? But what is that cowkeeper
to you ?"

"O! you know, massa," said the woman;
"he is my husband—my husband whom I
love; he is the father of my child."

'' He is my father! " said the girl.

"So, so, my child. Your father you may
consider him if you will, but that is nothing

to me. You have no father - I am your only
family."  And he laughed as amiably as his
distorted features would permit him, and
endearingly patted her cheeks.

"O! massa, pardon for Herman," again,
sighed the mother.

"Now, though you know very well that I
am not bound to acknowledge your relationship
to Herman, nor that of your daughter,
yet I am inclined to be considerate. I will
set the rogue at liberty-  but on one condition.
You must give your daughter to
me. You must come and live with me, my
dear child; you shall have everything you
desire."

"But I may not consent to that, massa.
My child is still so young. When she is
older she can do as she likes, but I may not
give her up now. Wait so long massa, I beg,
I implore you; and pardon now my poor
Herman."

The director cast a look on the beautiful
form of the maiden, still kneeling before him,
and who trembled from head to foot. He
grasped her by the arm.

"Do what I desire, Diana, and your father
is saved," said he.

The child broke loose from his arms, and,
sobbing audibly, hastened away with her
mother. They left the director in a fearful
state behind them. His legs trembled;
his whole nervous system was unstrung;
his whole body quivered. He sank down
upon his chair, and it was some time
before he was sufficiently collected to be
able to speak. The most frightful curses on
himself- on the two women slaves- on
Herman- on all that was near him- were the
first words he uttered.

"I'll pay you out for this! You shall
know what it is to resist me. First the
cowkeeper, and then yourself."

In the meantime, the negro Herman
remained shut up in the coffee-loft. Hunger
became to him more and more insupportable;
but his thirst was unendurable. As
the sun rose, and the heat increased, his
sufferings became more and more intense.

"O, a draught of water! a draught of
water! " he groaned; but nobody heard him.
What pen can describe the intensity of the
poor fellow's suffering when the day was at
its hottest, and the natural heat was increased
by the oppressiveness of the loft in which he
was a prisoner! And there, in the distance,
he saw through the opened window the river
flow: there saw he the water for which his
parched palate thirsted.

About noon the director sent for the
bastinado.

"Is Herman still locked up?" he asked.

"Yes, massa."

"And has anybody brought him
anything?"

"Nobody."

"So that since yesterday morning he has
had nothing to eat or drink ?"