TOOSSAINT L'OUTERTURE. 285

er had a heart: he pitied the destitution of a man who had
d at his conmand' the opulence of Saint Domingo. His
nanity made him unfit for his office, and ascertaining that
eI captive aecount.-d the aant of coffee among his chief pri-
rations, he ventured at his own risk to furnish a small supply.
When the Governor n-turned, he found that Toussaint L'Ou-
r rture was still alive. In a short time he took a second jour-
ey to the same town, and for the same purpose; and, as he
mispected that Colomier's good nature had interfered with his
luty, he said to him, on leaving, with a disquieted countenance,
(I intrust to you the guardianship of the castle; but this time
ido not give you the keys of the dungeons; the prisoners have
Fb need of anything."
The Governor returned on the Iourth day. Toussaint was no
jbre. lie ascertained the fact. Yes, there he is. dead; no
iubt whatever,-dead and cold. He had li ld of inanition.
rsd see, if you hare courage to loo k on so horrible a sight,-
be rats have gnawed his feet I
:1The work is done the crime is perpetrated. Bonaparte's
lUl is law: his word is death. But murder is a word of evil
ad. The world, with all its depravity, has a moral-feeling,
d that moral feeling it is impolitic to outrage. A veil must
a' thrown over the assassination.
*.iU Toussaint is dead -- how came he by his death ?"
SThe Governor, on learning that his captive had breathed his
 carried some provisions into his dungeon. Who now can
 that Toussaint had been starved to death ? He died in the
 dst of abundance. Tllis was the Governor's own plea. But
 deprived that plea of its effmi, t by his earerne's to obtrude
 i make the most of it ; and he betraycd his guilt by his looks
 i manner. Ye', he was distressed at Toussaint's sudden de-
 re,-he liewailed the event. But hypocrisy ever overacts
 :part. B,' idl^, the gperncnr was not thoroughly depraved;
 That whicll he would have men regard as the sadness of a
 ous heart, in mourning, they saw to be the raging of a con-
 co smitten with a sense of guilt; his cheeks put on a livid