66 66 evenings ramble. "I am happy to see you, Sir," (addressing myself to Mr. Gordon,) as it gives me an opportunity of reminding you of a promise* which you have not yet redeemed." "Indeed, Sir?" he replied. "You have the advantage of me. Did I ever make you a promise, which I have not redeemed ?" "Yes, Sir." "Where?" Were you never in a storm, Sir?" “I beg your pardon, Sir. I hope you are well.. I am happy to see you in London. I hope, Sir, you will do me the honour of a call. Why no, Sir? I have not been able to inform you of the result of my inquiry, for to be very candid, I have been too much engaged, to turn my atten tion to it but I have not forgotten it. What a storm! Did you escape it? I took shelter in a cow-shed," "Yes, Sir," I replied, "I ran to a cottage, where I witnessed a deeply interesting sight. I regretted, Sir, your absence; as I had no doubt but you would have seen an evidence in favour of the truth, and of the excellence of the gospel, which I think you would have admired." *Indeed, Sir," said Mr. Gordon," what visible evidence do you refer to. A miracle?" "If, Sir, we define a miracle to be something above the production of human power, I should' not hesitate to call what I saw a moral miracle." I then gave an account of the decease of the Wood-man's child, which he called a very interesting tale; but said, he was not sufficiently enlightened, to perceive how such a fact tended in any way to establish the truth, or display the excellence of Christianity. "We may," he remarked, "have an opportunity to debate over it, Sir, before you leave our great city; but, as we propose going to chapel this evening, perhaps you had better not begin, lest we should be obliged to break off the thread of our argumentation at an unfavourable point. But, Sir, though I have not investigated that important question, which we discussed when we accidently met at ; yet I will do it. You see, Sir, the company which I keep, (pointing to Mr. Llewellin, and Mr. Newton,) is a proof that I am religiously inclined; and if, Sir, a few doubts should darken my powers of mental vision, yct the light which emanates from their chaste reasoning, may ultimately disperse them, and we all may become believers together." See No. 10, of this series, pages, 9, 10. "She then ran into the woods, where she concealed herself till she thought all danger was over; but as she came forth one night, to re-visit the scene of her native joy, now turned into the desolation of grief, she was caught by the destroyers of her country, and doomed to share the same fate with the other branches of her family." Page 5. London: PRINTED FOR FRANCIS WESTLEY, 10, STATIONERS' COURT, AND AVE-MARIA-LANE. THE POOR NEGRO. "And what man seeing this, And having human feelings, does not blush, Cowper. As I sat one morning, listening to the strange cries of London, and observing the different countenances of the numerous pedestrians which were passing to and fro, with hurried steps, as though each one was intent on the accomplishment of some great purpose, I heard a knock at the door, and soon after the servant entered the parlour with a letter addressed to me. This excited my surprize, as I was not conscious that any one knew of my arrival but my friend, Mr. Llewellin, and the few domestics of his household. "Who brought it, John?" was a question which I very naturallly proposed. "It is some black servant, Sir, but I do not know him." Before I had received the answer, I perceived from the signature of the letter, that it came from Mr. Wilcox, the gentleman with whom I exchanged cards on leaving the mail: and it was to request me and Mr. Llewellin to dine with him in the early part of the following week. "Desire the servant to walk in." "Yes, Sir." On his entering the room, I was much struck with the ease and gracefulness of his manners; and as I wished to gain some information on the subject of slavery, I pressed him to take a seat. He was a fine looking man, near five feet ten inches high, about twenty-five years of age, could speak the English language fluently, and rather more correctly than most: though he still retained the peculiar accent and pronunciation of his countrymen, and he gave unequivocal proofs of possessing a mind of a superior order. He detailed to me the whole history of his life, from the days of early infancy, up to the time of his arrival in England. This tale of woe was deeply affecting. It often moved me to tears. It brought to my recollection many of the horrid tragedies of Negro cruelty, which I had heard repeated when a boy; and while I involuntarily sighed over injured Africa, I felt the warmth of a virtuous indignation glowing in my breast against her inhuman oppressors. Peter, for that was the christian name of the emancipated Negro, was the third son of his family, who resided together in the suburbs of a village, situated in the interior of the country. When about nine years of age, as he and his father were planting yams for food, they were seized by a party of kidnappers, but they were rescued by some of their friends, just as they were dragged to the edge of a river where a boat's crew was lying in ambush to receive them. This made a strong impression on his mind, and though young, he never after left home without carrying with him some weapon of defence. When the toils of the day were ended, and the various members of the family associated together to relax their minds from care by joining in the evening song, they would often weep, lest like many others, they should be surprized during the hours of peaceful slumber, and carried off far away to the land of slaves. "It was," he said, "after an hour thus spent they retired to rest: but they had not slept long, before they were disturbed by an unusual noise. They suddenly arose, when they were surrounded by an armed force. His mother, with her infant at her breast rushed forward and escaped: and so did his eldest brother, but the rest were hand-cuffed and tied together within the space of a few minutes." They now wept aloud, but no tears, no groans, no loud lamentations of woe could move the callous breast of the merciless Slave dealer. The first lash of his whip fell on the eldest daughter, which roused the indignant feelings of the whole family, but alas! they could not protect her. She refused to walk, and bore the reiterated strokes of the torturous instrument of cruelty, till the blood ran in streamlets on the ground; when some of the savage crew disengaged her from the rest, and dragged her by the arms towards the brink of the river. Here they remained about the space of two hours, when another party arrived with another drove of poor grief worn captives, who sighed and wept as they were forced into the boat that was waiting to convey them to the ship riding at anchor about two miles from the shore. When they went on board they saw several of their friends, and many other of their countrymen sitting, chained together in different groups on the deck, who 1 immediately raised a piteous yelling cry, which would chave, moved to tenderness and commiseration any breast but that of the cruel Slave Merchant, and his hardened crew. The men were immediately confined two and two together, by the neck, or leg, or arm with fetters of solid iron. 66 To give the reader an accurate description of them when thus secured, I will quote the language of an Author, who has written with the accuracy of a faithful eyewitness. When the slaves are confined together, they dare then put into their apartments: the men occupying the fore part, the women the after part, and the children the middle of the vessel. The tops of these apartments are grated for the admission of light and air, and they are stowed away like any other lumber, occupying such quantity of room as has been allotted to them. Many of them while the ships are waiting for their full lading, and whilst they are near their native shore, from which they are to be separated for ever, have manifested great appearance of oppression and distress; and in some cases have recurred for apprehended relief, to suicide; others have been affected with delirium and madness; others again have been actuated by a spirit of revenge, and have resolved on punishing their oppressors at the hazard of their own lives. In the day time, if the weather be fine, they are brought upon deck for air. They are placed together in a long row of two and two together on each side of the ship, a long chain is then made to pass through the shackles of each pair, by which means each row is at once secured to the deck. In this state they take their meals, which consist chiefly of horse beans, rice, and yams, with a little palm oil and pepper. Captain Hall says, that they are made after meals, to jump as high as their fetters will let them, on beating a drum; if they refuse they are whipped till they comply. This the Slave Merchants call dancing." As they were sitting on deck a few days after their captivity, looking with pensive sadness on the land which gave them birth, and where they once hoped to rest with their forefathers, when they had finished their mortal course, they espied the fatal boat advancing towards them. It was with difficulty that the sailors |