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Updated: June 8, 2025
Henniker read a long letter from the King of Dahomey to George the First; which had been found among the papers of James, first Duke of Chandos, and which had remained in the family till that time. In this, the King of Dahomey boasted of his victory over the King of Ardrah, and how he had ornamented the pavement and walls of his palace with the heads of the vanquished. These cruelties, Mr.
Sewell, Bryan Edwards, Henniker, and C. Ellis, took the opposite side of the question. Mr. Ellis, however, observed, that he had no objection to restricting the Slave Trade to plantations already begun in the colonies; and Mr. Barham professed; himself a friend to the abolition, if it; could be accomplished in a reasonable way. On a division, there appeared to be for Mr.
As we sat in the class-room we had the satisfaction of seeing first the butcher's pony and then the baker's cart drive up the front garden and drive back again. We were all right for the "sinews of war" for a day or two, anyhow! The Henniker kept it up till the last, and distributed her favours lavishly and impartially all round.
"Why, old Hen; but shut up, do you hear?" and here he dipped his face in the basin, and so effectually ended the talk. This was quite a revelation to me. Get in a row with Miss Henniker for speaking to one of my schoolfellows in the dormitory! A lively prospect and no mistake.
As he said this, he started up in his bed-place, awakened by his dream, and probably by my voice, which he had replied to. "Who spoke?" said he. "Frank Henniker, did you speak?" I made no reply, but pretended to be sound asleep, as he still sat up, as if watching me. I feigned a snore. "It could not have been him," muttered Jackson, "he's quite fast. Mercy, what a dream!"
"A letter for you," I cried by way of explanation. "You've an hour to give an answer." "Batchelor," replied Miss Henniker from within, in what seemed rather a subdued voice, "you are doing very wrong. Let me out immediately, Batchelor." "Not till you promise what's written in the note," replied I, quitting the place.
"What can we do?" asked I. That was the question. And there was no answering it. So we slunk back to our places, nursing our wrath in our bosoms, and vowing all sorts of vengeance on the Henniker. Nor were we the only boys in this condition of mind.
For three days did Jackson lie on his bed; I supplied him with water, but he did not eat anything. He groaned heavily at times, and talked much to himself, and I heard him ask forgiveness of God, and pardon for his sins. I noted this down for an explanation. On the third day, he said to me: "Henniker, I am very ill. I have a fever coming on, from the wound you have given me.
We continued in conversation for some time longer, until the time came for afternoon tea, when Mrs. Henniker suggested that we should join the rest of the party in the drawing room.
I cried out, like a madman, "Stop! Stop! Stop!" and then, seeing how useless it was, I dashed myself on the rock, and for a minute or two was insensible. "Oh!" groaned I, at last, as I came to my senses. "Frank Henniker," said a sweet firm voice. I opened my eyes, and saw Mrs Reichardt standing by me. "It is the will of Heaven, and you must submit to it patiently," continued she.
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