Chapter XXXVII: Letter XXXVI: To Mr. Sterne

July, 1776.

REVEREND SIR,

IT would be an insult to your humanity (or perhaps look like it) to aplogize for the liberty I am taking.--I am one of those people whom the vulgar and illiberal call “_Negurs_.”--The first part of my life was rather unlucky, as I was placed in a family who judged ignorance the best and only security for obedience.--A little reading and writing I got by unwearied application.--The latter part of my life has been--through God’s blessing, truly fortunate, having spent it in the service of the best families in the kingdom.--My chief pleasure has been books.--Philanthropy I adore.--How very much, good Sir, am I (amongst millions) indebted to you for the character of your amiable uncle Toby!--I declare, I would walk ten miles in the dog-days, to shake hands with the honest corporal.--Your Sermons have touched me to the heart, and I hope have amended it, which brings me to the point.--In your tenth discourse, page seventy-eight, in the second volume--is this very affecting passage:--“Consider how great a part of our species--in all ages down to this--have been trod under the feet of cruel and capricious tyrants, who would neither hear their cries, nor pity their distresses.--Consider slavery--what it is--how bitter a draught--and how many millions are made to drink it!”--Of all my favourite authors, not one has drawn a tear in favour of my miserable black brethren--excepting yourself, and the humane author of Sir George Ellison.--I think you will forgive me;--I am sure you will applaud me for beseeching you to give one half-hour’s attention to slavery, as it is at this day practised in our West Indies.--That subject, handled in your striking manner, would ease the yoke (perhaps) of many;--but if only of one--Gracious God!--what a feast to a benevolent heart!--and, sure I am, you are an Epicurean in acts of charity.--You, who are universally read, and as universally admired--you could not fail.--Dear Sir, think in me you behold the uplifted hands of thousands of my brother Moors.--Grief (you pathetically observe) is eloquent;--figure to yourself their attitudes;--hear their supplicating addresses!--Alas!--you cannot refuse.--Humanity must comply--in which hope I beg permission to subscribe myself,

Reverend Sir, &c.

IGN. SANCHO.