arriving every day, but none for him: his very hair stands on end to hear
things so contrary to what his soul desires. He alludes, I imagine, to the
state of the Queen's health; for, in a memorandum of instructions to his
son, written at this period, the first thing, he says, to be done is, "to
commend affectionately, with much devotion," the soul of the Queen to God.
Could the poor Indians but have known what a friend to them was dying, one
continued wail would have gone up to heaven from Hispaniola and all the
western islands. The dread decree, however, had gone forth, and on the
26th of November, 1504, it was only a prayer for the departed that could
have been addressed; for the great Queen was no more. If it be permitted
to departing spirits to see those places on earth they yearn much
after, we might imagine that the soul of Isabella would give "one longing,
lingering look" to the far West.


OPPRESSION OF THE INDIANS.

And if so, what did she see there? How different was the aspect of things
from what governors and officers of all kinds had told her: how different
from aught that she had thought of, or commanded! She had insisted that
the Indians were to be free: she would have seen their condition to be
that of slaves. She had declared that they were to have spiritual
instruction: she would have seen them less instructed than the dogs. She
had ordered that they should receive payment for their labour: she would
have found that all they received was a mockery of wages, just enough to
purchase once, perhaps, in the course of the year, some childish trifles
from Castile. She had always directed that they should have kind treatment
and proper maintenance: she would have seen them literally watching under
the tables of their masters, to catch the crumbs which fell there. She
would have beheld the Indian labouring at the mine under cruel buffetings,