The Enquirer

The Editor of the Mercantile Advertiser received yesterday, via Newport, the following letter from one of those unfortunate men who were basely seduced into the service of Miranda, and are now wearing out life in the dungeons of Carthagena:

"Vaults of St. Clara, July 4th, 1808.

"The Anniversary of the independence of our country.

"Respected Friend,

"Supposing that it would not be unpleasant to hear that I am still living, I use an opportunity offered by a vessel going to N. York, to acquaint you with my good health. How long I am to continue in chains and in a dungeon, I know not; I pray God it may be short; for "disguise thyself as thou wilt; still SLAVERY, still thou art a bitter draught and though thousands in all ages have been compelled to drink of thee, thou art not on that account the less bitter."

"I perceive by a printed paper, which accompanied a communication from R. B. Forbes, Esq. that you are one of the committee appointed to receive subscriptions for our relief. You may therefore possibly have it in your power to give me correct information touching the means by which we, poor miserable creatures, are to be emancipated, and when. This I beg you will be good enough to do by the next vessel which may leave New-York for this accursed place. For the last three years distress has become familiar to me, and even death has been disarmed of all its terrors. Mine is a state in which

Life dies, Death lives, and Nature breeds

Perverse, all monstrous, all prodigious things.

And how long I may be permitted to enjoy health or life, is very difficult to calculate upon in a place like this. Indeed I assure you, were it not for some little glimmering hope that I shall yet see my native country (which I dearly love, and can never forget.) I should, instead of using means to preserve life, be tempted to destroy it.

"If any friends whom I left behind should enquire of you respecting me, be pleased to tell them I still live.

Adieu, Yours ever.

ROBERT SAUNDERS