Chapter IV: Part 4

Oh, what a lesson, thought I, for my repining heart! "But do you have no meat or other necessaries, Sarah?" "Not often, misse; sometimes I get so hungry for it, I begin feel wicked; then think how Jesus hungry in the desert. But when Satan tempt Him to sin, to get food, He would not. So I say, Sarah won't sin to get victuals. I no steal, no eat stole food, though be hungry ever so long.

"Then God gives me small look of His self, His _Son_, and His glory; and I think in my heart, they all be mine soon; then I no suffer hunger any more--my Father have there many mansions." "Sarah," said I, "you seem to have some knowledge of the Scriptures; can you read?" "I can spell out a little; I can't read like you white folks; O, if I could!" Here she burst into tears.

But after regaining her composure, she added, "This, misse, what I want above all things, more than victuals or drink. Oh, how often I beg God teach me to read, and He do teach me some. When I take Bible, kneel down and pray, he show me great many words, and they be so sweet, I want to know a great deal more. Oh, when I get home to heaven, then I know all; no want to read any more."

In this strain of simple piety, she told me her first interesting story. And when she departed, I felt a stronger evidence of her being a true child of God, than I have acquired of some professors by a long acquaintance. In one of the many visits she afterward made me, she gave me, in substance, the following account of her conversion:--She lived, according to her own account, until she became a wife and mother, without hope and without God in the world, having been brought up in extreme ignorance.

Her husband treating her with great severity, she became dejected and sorrowful, and to use her own simple language, "I go sorrow, sorrow, all day long. When the night come, husband come home angry, beat me so; then I think, Oh, if Sarah had friend! Sarah no friend. I no want tell nabor I got trouble, that make only worse. So I be quiet, tell nobody, only cry all night and day for one good friend.

"One Sunday, good nabor come, and say, 'Come, Sarah, go Meetin'.' So I call my children, tell 'em stay in house while I go to Meetin'. When got there, minister tell all about Jesus; how He was born in stable, go suffer all His life, die on great cross, bury, rise, and go up into heaven, to be always sinners' friend. He say, too, if you got trouble, go to the Lord Jesus. He best friend in sorrow, He cure all your sorrow, He bring you out of trouble, He support you, make you willin' suffer.

"So when I go home, think great deal what minister say; think this the friend I want--this the friend I cry for so long. Poor ignorant Sarah never heard so much about Jesus before. Then I try hard to tell Jesus how I want such friend. But oh, my heart so hard, can't feel, can't pray, can't love Jesus, though he so good. This make me sorrow more and more.

"When Sunday come, want to go to Meetin' 'gain. Husband say, 'You shan't go; I beat you if you go.' So I wait till he go off huntin', then shut up children safe, and run to Meetin'; sit down in door, hear minister tell how bad my heart is--no love to God, no love to Jesus, no love to pray. So then I see why can't have Jesus for friend, 'cause got so bad heart: then go prayin' all way home, Jesus make my heart better.

"When got home, find children safe, feel glad husband no come: only feel sorry 'cause my wicked heart don't know how make it better. When I go sleep, then dream I can read good book: dream I read there, Sarah must be born 'gain. In mornin' keep thinkin' what that word mean. When husband go work, run over my good nabor, ask her if Bible say so.

"Then she read me, where that great man go see Jesus by night, 'cause 'fraid go in day-time. I think he just like Sarah. She must go in secret, to hear 'bout Jesus, else husband be angry, and beat her. Then feel 'couraged in mind, determined to have Jesus for friend. So asked nabor how get good heart. She tell me, 'Give your heart to Jesus, He will give Holy Spirit, make it better. Sarah don't know what she mean--never hear 'bout Holy Spirit.

"She say must go Meetin' next Sunday, she will tell minister 'bout me--he tell me what to do. So Sarah go hear how must be born 'gain; minister say, 'You must go fall down 'fore God; tell Him you grieved 'cause you sin--tell him you want better heart--tell him for Christ Jesus' sake give Holy Spirit, make your heart new.' Then Sarah go home light, 'cause she know the way.

"When get home, husband beat me 'cause I go Meetin'--don't stay home work. I say, 'Sarah can't work any more on Sunday, 'cause sin 'gainst God. I rather work night, when moon shine.' So he drive me hoe corn that night, he so angry. I want to pray great deal, so go out hoe corn, pray all the time. When come in house, husband sleep. Then I kneel down and tell Jesus take my bad heart--can't bear bad heart; pray give me Holy Spirit, make my heart soft, make it all new.

"So great many days Sarah go beg for a new heart. Go Meetin' all Sundays; if husband beat me, never mind it; go hear good nabor read Bible every day. So, after great while, God make all my mind peace. I love Jesus; I love pray to Him; love tell Him all my sorrows. He take away my sorrow, make all my soul joy; only sorrow 'cause can't read Bible--learn how to be like Jesus; want to be like His dear people Bible tell of.

"So I make great many brooms; go get Bible for 'em. When come home, husband call me fool for it; say he burn it up. Then I go hide it; when he gone, get it, kiss it many times, 'cause it Jesus' good Word. Then I go ask nabor if she learn me read; she say, 'Yes.' Then I go many days learn letters, pray God all the while help me learn read His Holy Word.

"So, misse, I learn read hymn; learn to spell out many good words in Bible. So every day take Bible, tell my children that be God's words, tell 'em how Jesus die on cross for sinner: then make 'em all kneel down, I pray God give 'em new heart; pray for husband too, he so wicked. Oh, how I sorry for him; fear his soul go in burnin' flame."

"Sarah," said I, "how long did your husband live?" "Oh, he live great many year." "Did he repent and become a good man?" "No, misse, I 'fraid not; he sin more and more. When he got sick, I in great trouble for him; talk every day to him, but he no hear Sarah. I say, 'How can you bear go in burnin' fire, where worm never die, where fire never go out?' At last he get angry, bid me hold my tongue. So I don't say any more, only mourn over him every day 'fore God.

"When he die, my heart say, 'Father, thy will be done--Jesus do all things well. Sarah can't help him now, he be in God's hands; all is well.' So then give my heart all away to Jesus; tell Him I be all His; serve Him all my life; beg Holy Spirit come fill all my heart, make it all clean and white like Jesus. Pray God help me learn more of His sweet words.

"And now, Sarah live poor Indian widow great many long years; always find Jesus friend, husband, brother, all. He make me willin' suffer; willin' live great while in this bad world, if He see best. 'Bove all, He give me great good hope of glory when I die. So now I wait patient till my change comes."

While she was giving this narration, her countenance bore strong testimony to the diversified emotions of her soul. I might greatly swell the list of particulars; but I design only to give the outlines of an example which would have done honor to the highest sphere in life; and which, in my opinion, is not the less excellent, or the less worthy of imitation, because shrouded in the veil of poverty and sorrow. It was evident she meditated much on what little she knew of divine things; and what she knew of the Bible was to her like honey and the honeycomb.

She was in the habit of bringing bags of sand into the village, and selling it to buy food. Sometimes she brought grapes and other kinds of fruit. But as she walked by the way, she took little notice of anything that passed (except children, whom she seldom passed without an affectionate word of exhortation to be good, say their prayers, learn to read the Bible, etc., accompanied with a bunch of grapes or an apple--thus engaging the affection of many a little heart), but seemed absorbed in meditation; and you might often have observed her hands uplifted in the attitude of prayer.

One day, after having observed her as she came, I asked her how she could bring so heavy loads, old as she was, and feeble. "Oh," said she, "when I get great load, then I go pray God give me strength to carry it. So I go on, thinkin' all the way how good God is give His only Son die for poor sinner; think how good Jesus be, suffer so much for such poor creature; how good Holy Spirit was, come into my bad heart, make it all new: so these sweet thoughts make my mind so full joy, I never think how heavy sand be on my old back."

"Here," said I to my heart, "learn how to make the heavy load of iron cares easy." One day she passed with a bag of sand. On her return she called on me. I inquired how much Mrs. ---- gave her for the sand. She was unwilling to tell, and I feared she was unwilling lest I should withhold my accustomed mite, on account of what she had already received; I therefore insisted she should let me see.

She at length consented, and I drew from the bag a bone, not containing meat enough for half a meal. "Is this all? Did that rich woman turn you off so? How cruel, how hard-hearted!" I exclaimed. "Misse," she replied, "this made me 'fraid let you see it; I 'fraid you would be angry: I hope she have bigger heart next time, only she forget now that Jesus promise to pay her all she give Sarah. Don't be angry, I pray God to give her a great deal bigger heart."

The conviction, that she possessed, in an eminent degree, the Spirit of Him who said, "Bless them that curse you," and prayed for His murderers, rushed upon my mind with energy, and I could compare myself in some measure to those who said, "Shall we command fire to come down from heaven," etc. I think I never felt deeper self-abhorrence and abasement; I left her for a moment, and from the few comforts I possessed, gave her a considerable portion.

She received them with the most visible marks of gratitude--arose to depart, went to the door, and then turned, looking me in the face with evident concern. "Sarah," said I, "what would you have?" (supposing she wanted something I had not thought of, and she feared to ask). "Oh, my good misse!" said she, "nothing; only 'fraid your big heart feel some proud 'cause you give more for nothing than Misse ---- for sand."

This faithfulness, added to her piety and gratitude, completed the swell of feeling already rising in my soul; and bursting into tears, I said, "O Sarah! when you pray that Mrs. ---- may have a bigger heart, don't forget to pray that I may have an humbler one." "I will, misse, I will," she exclaimed with joy, and hastened on her way.

Another excellence in her character, was, that she loved the habitation of God's house, and often appeared there, when, from bad weather or other causes, many a seat of affluence was empty. She was always early, ever clean and whole in her apparel, though sometimes almost as much diversified with patches as the shepherd's coat.

She was very old and quite feeble, yet she generally stood during public service, with eyes riveted on the preacher. I have sometimes overtaken her on the steps, after service, and tapping her on her shoulder, would say, "Have you had a good day, Sarah?" "All good; sweeter than honey," she would reply.

In the spring of 1818, it was observed by her friends that she did not appear at Meeting as usual, and one of her particular female benefactors asked her the reason; when she, with streaming eyes, told her that her clothes had become so old and ragged that she could not come with comfort or decency; but said she had been praying God to provide for her in this respect, a great while, and telling Jesus how much she wanted to go to His house of prayer, and expressed a strong desire to be resigned and submissive to His will.

This was soon communicated to a few friends, who promptly obeyed the call of Providence, and soon furnished this suffering member of Christ with a very decent suit of clothes. This present was almost overpowering to her grateful heart. She received them as from the hand of her Heavenly Father and kind Redeemer, in answer to her special prayer.

But this did not in the least diminish her gratitude to her benefactors; but she said she would go on, tell Jesus how good His dear people were to this poor old creature, and pray her good Father to give them great reward. Two of the garments given her, she received with every mark of joy. On being asked why she set so high a value on these, she replied, "Oh, these just what I pray for so long, so as to lay out my poor old body, clean and decent, like God's dear white people, when I die."

These she requested a friend to keep for her, fearing to carry them home, lest they should be taken from her. She was, however, persuaded to wear one of them to Meeting, upon condition that if she injured that, another should be provided; the other was preserved by her friend, and made use of at her death.

Thus was this humble band of female friends honored, by anointing, as it were, the body, beforehand, to the burial. And I doubt not that her prayer was heard, and will be answered in their abundant reward. The last visit I had from her was in the summer of 1818. She had attended a funeral, and on returning, she called at my cottage. She complained of great weariness, and pain in her limbs, and showed me her feet, which were much swollen.

I inquired the cause. "Oh," said she, with a serene smile, "death comes creeping on; I think in graveyard to-day, Sarah must lie here soon." "Well, are you willing to die? do you feel ready?" "Oh, I hope, misse, if my bad heart tell true, I willin' and ready to do just as Jesus bid me. If He say, 'You must die,' I glad to go be with Him; if He say, 'Live, and suffer great deal more,' then I willin' do that; I think Jesus know best.

"Sometime I get such look of heaven, I long to go see Jesus; see happy angel; see holy saint; throw away my bad heart; lay down my old body; and go where I no sin. Then I tell Jesus; He say, 'Sarah, I prepare a place for you, then I come to take you to myself.' Then I be quite like child, don't want to go till He call me."

Much more she said upon this interesting subject, which indicated a soul ripe for heavenly glories. When we parted, I thought it very doubtful whether we should ever meet again below. In the course of three weeks I heard Sarah was dead.

THE GENEROUS NEGRO.

Joseph Rachel resided in the island of Barbadoes. He was a trader, and dealt chiefly in the retail way. In his business, he conducted himself so fairly and complaisantly, that in a town filled with little peddling shops, his doors were thronged with customers. Almost all dealt with him, and ever found him remarkably honest and obliging.

If any one knew not where to obtain an article, Joseph would endeavor to procure it, without making any advantage for himself. In short, his character was so fair, and his manners so generous, that the best people showed him a regard which they often deny to men of their own color, because they are not blessed with the like goodness of heart.

In 1756, a fire happened, which burned down a great part of the town, and ruined many of the inhabitants. Joseph lived in a quarter that escaped the destruction, and expressed his thankfulness by softening the distresses of his neighbors. Among those who had lost their property by this heavy misfortune, was a man to whose family Joseph, in the early part of his life, owed some obligations.

This man, by too great hospitality, an excess very common in the West Indies, had involved himself in difficulties, before the fire happened; and his estate lying in houses, that event entirely ruined him. Amid the cries of misery and want, which excited Joseph's compassion, this man's unfortunate situation claimed particular notice. The generous and open temper of the sufferer, the obligations that Joseph owed to his family, were special and powerful motives for acting toward him the part of a friend.

Joseph had his bond for sixty pounds sterling. "Unfortunate man," said he, "this debt shall never come against you. I sincerely wish you could settle all your other affairs as easily. But how am I sure that I shall keep in this mind? May not the love of gain, especially when, by length of time, your misfortune shall become familiar to me, return with too strong a current, and bear down my fellow-feeling before it? But for this I have a remedy. Never shall you apply for the assistance of any friend against my avarice."

He arose, and ordered a large account that the man had with him, to be drawn out; and in a whim that might have called up a smile on the face of Charity, he filled his pipe, sat down again, twisted the bond and lighted his pipe with it. While the account was drawing out, he continued smoking, in a state of mind that a monarch might envy. When it was finished, he went in search of his friend, with the discharged account and the mutilated bond in his hand.

On meeting him, he presented the papers to him with this address: "Sir, I am sensibly affected with your misfortunes: the obligations I have received from your family give me a relation to every branch of it. I know that your inability to pay what you owe gives you more uneasiness than the loss of your own substance.

"That you may not be anxious on my account in particular, accept of this discharge, and the remains of your bond. I am overpaid in the satisfaction that I feel from having done my duty. I beg you to consider this only as a token of the happiness you will confer upon me, whenever you put it in my power to do you a good office."

The philanthropists of England take pleasure in speaking of him: "Having become rich by commerce, he consecrated all his fortune to acts of benevolence. The unfortunate, without distinction of color, had a claim on his affections. He gave to the indigent; lent to those who could not make a return; visited prisoners, gave them good advice, and endeavored to bring back the guilty to _virtue_. He died at Bridgetown, on that island, in 1758, lamented by all, for he was a friend to all."

CAPTAIN PAUL CUFFEE.

Paul Cuffee, the subject of this narrative, was the youngest son of John Cuffee, a poor African slave; but who, by good conduct, faithfulness, and a persevering industry, in time obtained his freedom. He afterward purchased a farm, and having married an Indian woman, brought up a family of ten children respectably, on one of the Elizabeth Islands, near New Bedford, Massachusetts.

In the year 1773, when Paul was about fourteen years of age, his father died, leaving a widow with six daughters to the care of him and his brothers. Although he had no learning except what he had received from the hand of friendship, yet by that means he advanced to a considerable degree of knowledge in arithmetic and navigation.

Of the latter, he acquired enough to enable him to command his own vessel in its voyages to many ports in the Southern States, the West Indies, England, Russia, and to Africa. The beginning of his business in this line was in an open boat; but by prudence and perseverance, he was at length enabled to obtain a good-sized schooner, then a brig, and afterward a ship. In the year 1806, he owned a ship, two brigs, and several smaller vessels, besides considerable property in houses and lands.

Feeling in early life a desire of benefiting his fellow-men, he made use of such opportunities as were in his power for that purpose. Hence, during the severity of winter, when he could not pursue his usual business in his little boat, he employed his time in teaching navigation to his own family and to the young men of the neighborhood. Even on his voyages, when opportunity offered, he instructed those under his care in that useful art.

He was so conscientious that he would not enter into any business, however profitable, that might have a tendency to injure his fellow-men; and seeing the dreadful effects of drunkenness, he would not deal in ardent spirits on that account.

In the place where he lived, there was no school; and as he was anxious that his children should obtain an education, he built a house on his own land, at his own expense, and gave his neighbors the free use of it; being satisfied in seeing it occupied for so useful and excellent a purpose.

In many parts of his history, we may discover that excellent trait of character which rendered him so eminently useful--a steady perseverance in laudable undertakings. It is only by an honest, industrious use of the means in our power that we can hope to become respectable.

His mind had long been affected with the degraded and miserable condition of his African brethren, and his heart yearning toward them, his thoughts were turned to the British settlement at Sierra Leone. In 1811, finding his property sufficient to warrant the undertaking, and believing it to be his duty to use a part of what God had given him for the benefit of his unhappy race, he embarked in his own brig, manned entirely by persons of color, and sailed to Africa, the land of his forefathers.

After he arrived at Sierra Leone, he had many conversations with the governor and principal inhabitants, and proposed to them a number of improvements. Thence he sailed to England, where he met great attention and respect; and being favored with an opportunity of opening his views to the Board of Managers of the African Institution, they cordially united with him in all his plans. This mission to Africa was undertaken at his own expense, and with the purest motives of benevolence.

He was very desirous of soon making another voyage, but was prevented by the war which took place between England and the United States. In 1815, however, he made preparations, and took on board his brig thirty-eight persons of color; and after a voyage of thirty-five days, he arrived safe at his destined port. These persons were to instruct the inhabitants of Sierra Leone in farming and the mechanic arts. His stay at this time was about two months, and when he took his leave, particularly of those whom he had brought over, it was like a father leaving his children, and with pious admonition commending them to the protection of God.

He was making arrangements for a third voyage, when he was seized with the complaint which terminated his labors and his life. He was taken ill in the winter, and died in the autumn following, 1817, in the fifty-ninth year of his age. For the benefit of his African brethren, he devoted a portion of his youthful acquisitions, of his latter time, and even the thoughts of his dying pillow.

As a private man, he was just and upright in all his dealings. He was an affectionate husband, a kind father, a good neighbor, and a faithful friend. He was pious without ostentation, and warmly attached to the principles of the Society of Friends, of which he was a member; and he sometimes expressed a few sentences in their Meetings, which gave general satisfaction. Regardless of the honors and pleasures of the world, he followed the example of his Divine Master, in going from place to place doing good, looking not for a reward from man, but from his Heavenly Father.

Thus walking in the ways of piety and usefulness, and in the enjoyment of an approving conscience, when death appeared, it found him in peace, and ready to depart. Such a calmness and serenity overspread his soul, and showed itself in his countenance, that the heart of even the reprobate might feel the wish, "Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his."

A short time before he expired, feeling sensible that his end was near, he called his family together. It was an affecting and solemn scene. His wife and children, with several other relations, being assembled around him, he reached forth his feeble hand, and after embracing them all, and giving them some pious advice, he commended them to the mercy of God, and bid them a final farewell.

After this, his mind seemed almost entirely occupied with the eternal world. To one of his neighbors who came to visit him, he said, "Not many days hence, and ye shall see the glory of God. I know that my works are gone to judgment before me; but it is all well, it is all well."

He lived the life, and died the death of a Christian. He is gone whence he never shall return, and where he shall no more contend with raging billows and with howling storms. His voyages are all over, he has made his last haven, and it is that of eternal repose. Thither, could we follow him, we should learn the importance of fulfilling our duty to our Creator, to ourselves, and to our fellow-creatures.

Such was his reputation for wisdom and integrity, that his neighbors consulted him in all their important concerns; and what an honor to the son of a poor African slave! And the most respectable men in Great Britain and America were not ashamed to seek him for counsel and advice.

Thus we see how his persevering industry and economy, with the blessing of Providence, procured him wealth; his wisdom, sobriety, integrity, and good conduct made him many friends; his zealous labors for the honor of his Maker, and for the benefit of his fellow-men, gave him a peaceful conscience; and an unshaken belief in the mercies and condescending love of his Heavenly Father, afforded, in his dying moments, that calmness, serenity, and peaceful joy, which are a foretaste of immortal bliss.

The following is an extract from his address to his brethren at Sierra Leone:--"Beloved friends and fellow-countrymen, I earnestly recommend to you the propriety of assembling yourselves together to worship the Lord your God. God is a Spirit, and they that worship Him acceptably, must worship in spirit and in truth.

"Come, my African brethren, let us walk in the light of the Lord; in that pure light which bringeth salvation into the world. I recommend sobriety and steadfastness, that so professors may be good examples in all things. I recommend that early care be taken to instruct the youth while their minds are tender, that so they may be preserved from the corruptions of the world, from profanity, intemperance, and bad company.

"May servants be encouraged to discharge their duty with faithfulness; may they be brought up to industry; and may their minds be cultivated for the reception of the good seed which is promised to all who seek it. I want that we should be faithful in all things, that so we may become a people giving satisfaction to those who have borne the burden and heat of the day in liberating us from a state of slavery.

"I leave you in the hands of Him who is able to preserve you through time, and crown you with that blessing which is prepared for all who are faithful to the end." This appears to be the simple expression of his feelings, and the language of his heart.

When you have read this account of your brother Paul Cuffee, pause and reflect. Do not think because you cannot be as extensively useful as he was, that you cannot do any good. There are very few people, if any, in the world who cannot be useful in some way or other. If you have health, you may, by your industry, sobriety, and economy, make yourselves and your families comfortable.

By your honesty and good conduct, you may set them and your neighbors a good example. If you have aged parents, you may soothe and comfort their declining years. If you have children, you may instruct them in piety and virtue, and in such business as will procure them a comfortable subsistance, and prepare them for usefulness in the world.

SOLOMON BAYLEY.

In the narrative of his own life, Solomon Bayley says: "The Lord tried to teach me His fear when I was a little boy; but I delighted in vanity and foolishness, and went astray; but He found out a way to overcome me, and to cause me to desire His favor and His great help; and although I thought no one could be more unworthy of His favor, yet He did look on me, and pity me in my great distress.

"I was born a slave in the State of Delaware, and was one of those that were carried out of Delaware into the State of Virginia; the laws of Delaware did say, that slaves carried out of that State should be free; and I asserted my right to freedom, for which I was put on board of a vessel and sent to Richmond, where I was put in jail, and in irons, and thence sent in a wagon back into the country.

"On the third day after we left Richmond, in the bitterness of my heart, I was induced to say, 'I am past all hope;' but it pleased the Father of mercy to look upon me, and He sent a strengthening thought into my heart--that He that made the heavens and the earth was able to deliver me. I looked up to the sky, and then on the trees and the ground, and I believed, in a moment, that if He could make all these, He was able to deliver me.

"Then did that Scripture come into my mind, 'They that trust in the Lord shall never be confounded.' I believed it, and got out of the wagon unperceived, and went into the bushes. There were three wagons in company: when they missed me, they looked round some time for me, but not finding me, they went on; and that night I travelled through thunder, lightning, and rain, a considerable distance."

His trials and difficulties in getting along were many and various; but at Petersburg he met a man from his neighborhood, circumstanced like himself: they got a small boat, went down James River, and landed on the eastern shore of Chesapeake Bay, and travelled to Hunting Creek, where their wives were. "But," says he, "we found little or no satisfaction, for we were hunted like partridges on the mountains."

His poor companion, being threatened again with slavery, in attempting to escape, was pursued and killed; on which Solomon makes the following remarks: "Now, reader, you have heard of the end of my fellow-sufferer, but I remain as yet a monument of mercy, thrown up and down on life's tempestuous sea; sometimes feeling an earnest desire to go away and be at rest; but I travail on, in hopes of overcoming at my last combat.

"It being thought best for me to leave Virginia, I went to Dover, in Delaware, the distance of about one hundred and twenty miles." By travelling in the night, and laying by in the day-time, he at length reached that place, but not without great difficulty, from being hunted and pursued.

In concluding this part of his narrative, he says, "Oh, what pains God takes to help His otherwise helpless creatures! Oh, that His kindness and care were more considered and laid to heart! and then there would not be that cause to complain that 'the ox knoweth his owner, and the ass his master's crib, but Israel doth not know, my people doth not consider;' but they would see that they are of more value than many sparrows; and that they are not their own, but bought with a price. Now, unto the King immortal, invisible, the only wise God, be glory and honor, dominion and power, now and forever. Amen."

In the second part of his narrative, he proceeds by remarking, "Seventh month, 24th, 1799, I got to Camden, where my master soon came from Virginia and found me, though he had not seen me since he put me on board the back-country wagon, nearly three or four hundred miles from Camden. Upon first sight, he asked me what I was going to do. I said, 'Now, master, I have suffered a great deal, and seen a great deal of trouble; I think you might let me go for little or nothing.' He said, 'I won't do that; but if you will give me forty pounds bond and good security, you may be free.'"

After much conversation between them on the subject of his right to freedom, he continues: "Finally, he sold my time for eighty dollars, and I went to work, and worked it out in a shorter time than he gave me, and then I was a free man. And when I came to think that the _yoke was off my neck_, and _how_ it was _taken_ off, I was made to wonder and admire, and to adore the order of kind Providence, which assisted me in all my way."

Here he very feelingly recites the trials and exercises of mind that attended him for not adhering to that wisdom and goodness of his Creator, which had been so marvellously manifested for his deliverance, and then proceeds to relate the circumstances respecting his wife and children. "My wife was born a slave, and remained one until she was thirty-two years of age; when her master, falling out with her, proposed sending her, with my eldest daughter, about three months old, into the back country.

"To go with her, I knew not where, or to buy her at his price, brought me to a stand; but, by the pleading of his wife and little daughter, he agreed to let me have her for one hundred and thirty-three dollars and a third, which is thirty-one pounds Virginia money. I paid what money I had saved since paying for my own freedom, and the rest as I earned it, and she was manumitted. But I had one child in bondage, my only son, and having worked through the purchase of myself and wife, I thought I would give up my son to the ordering of Divine Providence.

"So we worked and rented land, and got along twelve or thirteen years, when my son's master died, and his property had to be sold, and my son among the rest, at public sale. The backwoods-men having come over and given such large prices for slaves, it occasioned a great concern to come over my mind, and I told it to many of my friends, and they all encouraged me to buy him, but I told them I could have no heart to do it, because at his master's death he was appraised at four hundred dollars; however, I went to the sale. When the crier said, 'A likely young negro-fellow for sale,' and then asked for a bid, I said, 'Two hundred dollars.'

"As soon as I made this bid, a man that I feared would sell him to the backwoods-men, bid three hundred and thirty-three dollars, which beat down all my courage, but a thought struck me--Don't give out so--and I bid one shilling, but they continued to bid until they got him up to three hundred and sixty dollars, and I thought I could do no more; but those men who had engaged to be my securities, encouraged me, and some young men who were present, and had their hearts touched with a feeling for my distress, said, 'Solomon, if you will make one more bid, we will give you five dollars apiece;' so I turned round and said, 'One shilling;' so he was knocked off to me at three hundred and sixty dollars and a shilling: this was in the year 1813.

"Then I believed that God would work, and none could hinder Him, and that a way would be made for me, though I knew not how; and I confess the eyes of my mind appeared to be dazzled as I was let into a sight of the great goodness of the Highest in undertaking for me; but I felt a fear lest my behavior should not be suitable to the kindness and favor shown toward me.

"Oh, that all men would study the end of their creation, and act accordingly! Then they would walk in the light of His countenance indeed, and 'in His name rejoice all the day, and in His righteousness for ever be exalted.'

'Then should their sun in smiles decline,
And bring a peaceful night;'

which may all who read these lines, desire, and seek, and obtain, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen."

In the account of his mother, he says, "She was born of a woman brought from Guinea about the year 1690, then about eleven years old. She was brought into one of the most barbarous families; and though treated hard, she had many children, and lived to a great age. My mother had thirteen sons and daughters, and served the same cruel family until they died.

"Then great distress and dispersion took place. Our young mistress married, and brought our family out of the State of Virginia into the State of Delaware; but by their removing back to Virginia, we were entitled to our freedom, and attempting to recover it by law, we were sold and scattered wide. My father and two of his children were taken unaware, and sent to the West Indies. My mother was in the house at the time, but made her escape, leaving a child about eleven months old, which some kind friend carrying to her, she took, and travelling through Delaware, went into New Jersey.

"We were separated about eighteen years, except that I once visited her, and carried her seventeen or eighteen dollars, which, in my circumstances, was a sacrifice, but I was favored to find that satisfaction which I esteemed more than time or money. Being thoughtful about my mother, I sent for her to come to the State of Delaware, and when we were brought together, it was very comfortable, and we could sit and tell of the dangers and difficulties we had been brought through. She lived to a great age, and departed without much complaint, like one falling asleep.

"_An account of my eldest daughter Margaret, who died in the twenty-fourth year of her age._

"She was a pleasant child in her manners and behavior, yet fond of gay dress and new fashions; yet her mind was much inclined to her book, and to read good lessons; and it pleased the Father of mercy to open her understanding to see excellent things out of His law, and to convince her that it was His will she should be holy here, and happy hereafter; but custom, habit, and shame, seemed to chain her down, so that she appeared like one halting between two opinions.

"But about a month before she was taken for death, she went to a Meeting, under a concern about her future state; and the Meeting appeared to be favored with the outpouring of the Spirit of love and of power. Margaret came home under great concern of mind, and manifested a wonderful change in her manners and behavior; I believe the whole family were affected at the sight of the alteration, which indeed appeared like that of the prodigal son coming home to his father. For my own part, I felt fear and great joy--such was her delight to read the Bible and ask the meaning of certain texts of Scripture, which evidenced a concern to make sure work for eternity.

"In this frame of mind she was taken for death. She appeared very desirous to live, for the first four weeks; but was very patient, and of a sweet temper and disposition all the time. I recollect but one instance when she was known to give way to peevish fretfulness; then I, feeling the evil spirit striving to get the advantage of her, very tenderly and earnestly admonished her not to regard trifles, but to look to that Power which was able to save her; and from that time she became passive and resigned.

"The following two weeks her pain was great, and baffled all the force of medicine. A few days before her departure, she was urged with much brokenness of heart to make confession, when she was let into a view of the vanity of the world, with all its glittering snares, and said she could not rest till her hair was cut off; for, she said, 'I was persuaded to plait my hair against my father's advice, and I used to tie up my head when father would come to see me, and hide ruffles and gay dress from him, and now I cannot rest till my hair is cut off.' I said, 'No, my daughter, let it be till thee gets well.' She answered, 'Oh, no, cut it now.' So I, to pacify her, took and cropped it.

"After this, she appeared filled with raptures of joy, and talked of going, as if death had lost its sting. This was about three days before her departure; and she seemed to have her senses as long as she could speak. A little before her speech left her, she called us all, one by one, held out her hand, bade us farewell, and looked as if she felt that assurance and peace that destroy the fear of death; and while she held out her hands, she earnestly charged us to meet her in heaven.

"I desire now to give the pious a brief account of the life and death of my youngest daughter, Leah Bayley, who departed this life the 27th of 7th month, 1821, aged twenty-one years and six months. She, from a child, was more weakly and sickly than her sister Margaret, and the thought of leaving her here in this ill-natured world, caused me many serious moments; but the great Parent of all good, in the greatness of His care, took her away, and relieved me of the care of her forever.

"Weakness of body and mind appeared in her as she grew up, and an inclination to vanity and idleness; but being bound out under an industrious mistress, to learn to work and to have schooling, her mind soon became much inclined to her book and then to business. Her school-mistress gave her a little book concerning some pious young people that lived happily, and died happily, and were gone to heaven; namely,--

"Young Samuel, that little child
Who served the Lord, lived undefiled.
Like young Abijah I must be,
That good things may be found in me.
Young Timothy, that blessed youth
Who sought the Lord and loved the truth.
I must not sin as others do,
Lest I lie down in sorrow too.

"These blessed examples won her heart so as to bury every other enjoyment; she seemed to possess as great a deadness to the world as any young woman I ever observed. She seemed not ashamed to read in any company, white or colored; and she read to the sick with intense desire, which appeared from her weeping and solid manner of behavior. She seemed to desire to walk in the fear of the Lord all the day long; and every body that observed her remarked her serious, steady behavior.

"She seemed as if she was trying to imitate those good children whom she read about; and so continued until she was taken sick; and though her sickness was long and sharp, yet she bore it like a lamb. A few days before her decease, I was noticing how hard she drew her breath; she looked very wistful at me, and said, 'Oh, father! how much I do suffer!' I answered, 'Yes, my dear, I believe thee does.'

"Then, after a long pause, she said, 'But I think I never shall say I suffer too much.' This, I apprehended, was extorted from a view of the sufferings of Christ and her own imperfections. The day she died, she called us all, one by one, and, like her sister Margaret, held out her hand, and with much composure of mind bade us farewell, as if she was only going a short walk, and to return."

The last accounts from Solomon Bayley say, that he was very diligent and faithful in his calling--laboring not only for the souls of his brethren, but for their bodies also--by setting them the best example he was capable of, in cultivating his land to the best advantage, and by improving his plans, to show the natives, as well as the emigrants, the usefulness and comforts of civilized life.

CLARINDA,

A PIOUS COLORED WOMAN OF SOUTH CAROLINA, WHO DIED AT THE AGE OF A HUNDRED AND TWO YEARS.

The subject of this memoir was brought up in a state of ignorance unworthy of a Christian country; and following the propensities of a corrupt heart, she was, by her own confession, "sold under sin," and involved in almost every species of iniquity. And for the furtherance of her wicked designs, she learned to play on the violin, and usually, on the first day of the week, sallied forth with her instrument, in order to draw persons of both sexes together, who, not having the fear of God before their eyes, delighted, like herself, in sinful and pernicious amusements, which keep the soul from God and the heart from repentance.

But even on these occasions she found it difficult to struggle against the Spirit of the Most High. Often was it sounded in her conscience, "Clarinda, God ought not to be slighted--God ought not to be forgotten;" but these monitions were treated with derision, and in the hardness of her heart she would exclaim: "Go, you fool, I do not know God--go, I do not wish to know Him."

On one occasion, while on her way to a dance, these blasphemous thoughts, in answer to the monitions of conscience, were passing through her mind, and in this frame she reached the place of appointment, and mingled in the gay throng. While participating in the dance, she was seized with fits, and convulsively fell to the ground. From that moment, she lost her love of dancing, and no more engaged in this vain amusement.

She did not, however, forsake the evil of her ways, but continued her course of wickedness. Thus she went on for about twenty years, when she lost her only child, and was confined for several months by severe illness. During this period of bodily suffering, her mind was brought under awful convictions for sin: she perceived that the great Jehovah is a sin-hating and sin-avenging God, and that He will by no means clear the guilty.

She remained in a distressed state of mind for about three months, and when a little bodily strength was restored, she sought solitary places, where she poured out her soul unto the Lord, and in His own good time He spoke peace to her wounded spirit. One day being thus engaged in earnest prayer, and looking unto the Lord for deliverance, the evening approached unregarded, her soul was deeply humbled, and the night passed in prayer, while rivers of tears (to use her own expressive language) ran down her cheeks, and she ceased not to implore mercy from Him who is able to bind up the broken-hearted.

While thus engaged, and all this time ignorant of her Saviour, something whispered to her mind, "Ask in the name of Christ." She queried, "Who is Christ?" and in reply, these passages of Scripture seemed repeated to her: "Let not your heart be troubled; ye believe in God, believe also in Me." "In My Father's house are many mansions: I go to prepare a place for you, that where I am there ye may be also." "I am the way, the truth, and the life; no man cometh unto the Father but by Me."

Being desirous to know whence these impressions proceeded, she was led to believe that they were received through the influence of the Holy Spirit. This remarkable passage was also presented to her mind: "Therefore, being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ."

She now felt the love of God shed abroad in her heart; the overwhelming burden of sin was removed, and she received ability to sing praises to the Lord on the banks of deliverance.

Having been thus permitted to see the desire of her soul, she was anxious to learn more of the divine will, and inquired, like the apostle, "Lord, what wilt Thou have me to do?" and like him she was commanded to be a witness of what she had seen and heard. Believing she had a commission given her to preach the Gospel, she began to warn the sinful and licentious, that they must crucify the man of sin, or for ever forego the hope of salvation.

This raised her a host of enemies, both white and colored; and she underwent, many years, cruelty and persecution which could hardly obtain credence. She bore about on her body the visible marks of her faithful allegiance to the Lord Jesus; yet, while alluding to this, tears filled her eyes, and she said with emotion, "I am thankful that I have been found worthy to suffer for my blessed Saviour."

Although living in great poverty, and subsisting at times on casual charity, with health impaired by the sufferings through which she had passed, yet neither promises of protection, accompanied with the offer of the good things of this life, on the one hand, nor the dreadful persecution she endured on the other, could make her relinquish the office of a minister of the Gospel.

This office she continued to exercise, holding meetings regularly on the first day of the week, at her own little habitation, where a greater number at times assembled than could be accommodated in the house. It may be interesting to add some particulars relative to the trial of her faith and the persecution she suffered.

One individual in whose neighborhood she lived, who was much annoyed by hearing her sing and pray, offered, if she would desist, to provide her with a home and the comforts of life; but she replied, she had received a commission to preach the Gospel, and she would preach it as long as she had breath. Several ill-intentioned persons one night surrounded her house, and commanded her to come out to them. This she refused to do. After threatening her for some time, they forced open the door, and having seized their victim, they beat her cruelly, so that her head was deeply indented with the blows she received.