The Gentle Race Of Flowers

Pain Dies Quickly, And Lets Her Weary Prisoners Go; The Fiercest Agonies Have Shortest Reign.

Music Is Not Merely A Study, It Is An Entertainment; Wherever There Is Music There Is A Throng Of Listeners.

Or, Bide Thou Where The Poppy Blows With Windflowers Fail And Fair.

Ah! Never Shall The Land Forget How Gushed The Life-blood Of Her Brave -

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.