Chapter VI: Part 6

About the year 1738, a man and his wife, named Tom and Caty, who were in bondage to Thomas Bowne, on Long Island, had a little son whom they called Billy. This little boy, when old enough to work, was sold to a farmer in the neighborhood; who, according to the custom of those days, went with his servants into the field, and allotted to each one his portion of labor. By this means, Billy became acquainted with the different branches of husbandry, and was inured to industry.

With this farmer, he was pretty comfortably cared for, and kept to his daily labor until the thirty-first year of his age. About the year 1744, the master of one of those ships employed in bringing the poor Africans from their native land, among others brought away a little girl--too young, alas! to tell even by what means, or in what way she was taken.

This little girl, after suffering all the hardships attendant on her situation, and a long confinement on shipboard, was landed in New York, and sold according to the custom of that time. She was bought by Samuel Underhill, and taken to Long Island to wait on his wife and children and they called her Jenny. As she advanced in age, she became more and more useful in her master's family, and satisfied with her situation.

Her mistress being a woman of an uncommonly amiable disposition, having known the subjugation of her own will, by the operation of that principle which brings into harmony all the discordant passions, and one of that description also, that "looked well to the ways of her household, and ate not the bread of idleness," she was qualified to govern her family with mildness and discretion, and to set them an example of economy, sobriety, cheerfulness, and industry.

Jenny, being placed under the tuition of such a mistress, in due time became qualified to fill the station allotted her with propriety, as an honest, sober, industrious, and useful servant. When she had arrived at about the twentieth year of her age, she was visited by the before-mentioned Billy, in the character of a suitor. After mature deliberation, and their affections becoming more strongly fixed, with the approbation of those concerned, the marriage ceremony was performed.

Thus were they united, not only in the bonds of wedlock, but those of sincere affection, which abundantly manifested itself in their conduct toward and respect for each other, during a long and laborious life, and in their care of their numerous offspring, which consisted of nine sons and one daughter.

Time passing on with them, they partook of such a share of happiness as their situation in life would permit, until the year 1769, when the master of Jenny, having purchased a farm in Westchester county, was preparing to remove his family thither. This circumstance became a very close trial to this affectionate pair, who by this time had several children.

The thoughtfulness and anxiety felt by them on this occasion being reciprocated by their masters, a proposition was made for an exchange. The wife of one of Billy's fellow-servants being in the family with Jenny, accommodations were soon made, and Billy was admitted a resident in the family with his beloved partner: when they all proceeded to their new settlement, where they lived in harmony and concord for many years, and until their master's children were all married and settled.

During this period, Billy and Jenny, with all their children, were liberated by their master, and such of them as were old enough, were placed where they might be brought up to habits of industry, and be prepared to provide for themselves a comfortable subsistence; but Billy and Jenny remained with him.

Age and infirmity at length put a period to their kind master's life. And his family, being thus deprived of his care and exertions, were induced to leave their abode. The mistress, who had long exercised an affectionate care over her household, finding herself lonely, retired to live with her children. And with her youngest son, she remained to an advanced age, and was then gathered into rest, as a shock of corn in its season.

Billy and Jenny having a house provided for them, remained under the care of their former master's descendants, and with their own industry, and the generosity of their friends, they were comfortably situated. But when Billy was so disabled by infirmity, that he could not work as a day-laborer, he cultivated a little garden, and did some light jobs for his neighbors.

Their children being out, while Jenny's health and strength remained, she went out to washing and housecleaning. Billy generally waited on her to the place of destination, and then, returning to his habitation, nursed his garden and poultry until toward evening, when he would go to accompany her home. More genuine politeness and unremitting attention, between a man and his wife, are rarely to be found, in city or country, than were manifested by this sable pair.

Thus they lived several years; but Jenny at length became enfeebled by age, and her sight failed, so that she was no longer capable of laboring abroad, or using her spinning-wheel at home, as heretofore, which made it necessary for them to be placed in a different situation. One winter, while they remained at housekeeping, there came a very severe snow-storm, with high wind, so that passing from one place to another was rendered very difficult for several days.

As soon as practicable, their friend, who had the care of them, and supplied their wants, went to see how they fared; when Jenny, meeting him at the door, and being asked how they were, etc., said, "Oh, Master Richard, I am wonderful glad to see thee--if the storm had lasted much longer, I believe we should have froze to death; our wood was 'most gone, and Billy is one of the honestest niggers in the world; for he had rather freeze to death than steal a rail from the fence." This circumstance is recorded as one specimen of their honest simplicity.

In the spring of 1815, they were removed to the habitation of one of their sons, where they were boarded; and there they remained, until death, the destroyer of all earthly comforts, put a period to Jenny's life, after a few days' severe illness, about the seventy-eighth year of her age.

The same affectionate attachment that pervaded her mind in youth and in health, remained unshaken to the last. Her sight, as before remarked, being almost gone, when lying on her bed, she frequently inquired for Billy; but when she was told he was lying behind her, or sitting by her, she was satisfied.

Thus she closed a long and laborious life, beloved and respected for her many good qualities, and her consistent conduct. Billy died at Scarsdale, Westchester county, New York, on the 4th of Third month, 1826, after a few days' illness, aged about eighty-seven years, and was decently interred by the side of Jenny, on the 6th of the same month.

GEORGE HARDY.

During the winter of 1832, the writer of the narrative of which this account is an abridgment, became acquainted with Hannah Hardy, an interesting old colored woman, and her son George. They were the suffering tenants of a miserable garret, lighted only by a few panes of glass, and ill-secured from the inclemencies of the weather.

Hannah had been an industrious woman, who supported herself comfortably for many years, until her sight, which had long been declining, so nearly left her as to disqualify her for all kinds of work. George, who was her youngest son, disclosed in his earliest years great quickness of discernment and readiness of apprehension. He could read the Bible when only four years old; and he continued to be remarkable for docility, and for preferring his books and other profitable employments to the idle sports of children.

When about eleven years old, he was placed from home, where he remained until four years since, when he became so much diseased with scrofula as to make it necessary for him to return to his mother. From that time, she became his constant and only nurse, and evinced, through numberless privations and difficulties, the most unwearied attention and patient endurance.

When he was able to sit up and use his arms, he made rope-mats; by which, with casual help from his friends, he supported his mother and paid her rent. He always mended his own and her clothes, and allowed no time to pass away in idleness, which he was able to employ; and so cheerful, so thankful, and so happy did this interesting couple appear, that it afforded a lesson of instruction to be with them.

Hannah, who could only distinguish the glare of noon from the gloom of darkness, had lived so long in the forlorn tenement they then inhabited, and knew so well all the turnings of its steep and dangerous stairs, that she could not bear to hear the proposal from some of her friends to provide one more comfortable. Through the latter part of the winter, and the commencement of the spring, George's sufferings greatly increased; he was wholly confined to his bed, and so emaciated with pain and disease, that although he was seventeen years of age, his arms were not thicker than an infant's.

He had been a diligent reader of the Holy Scriptures; and though he told me they had been to him a sealed book, until he was brought to that bed of suffering, yet it was evident that his mind had long been enabled to appropriate to his own necessities many of their precious precepts. Though he labored under the combined effects of scrofula and dropsy, in their highest degrees of virulence, yet I never heard him repine; and often, while suffering extreme bodily anguish, he would speak of the relief it afforded the poor afflicted body, to have the mind composed and tranquil, and would say, "O, I feel like a poor worm in the fire; yet all I desire is, to be favored with patience to bear all my pain, and with a willing mind to wait the Master's will to take me away."

For many days and nights together he was able to obtain but little sleep; yet he showed no marks of restlessness or discontent. Once, calling me to his bedside, he said, "I am afraid I am not patient enough; but I often feel very weary, and I fear I shall wear my poor mother out. I am more concerned for her than for myself--what should I do for a care-taker if she were gone? She is very kind to me, and I have many kind friends. I am afraid I am not grateful enough for all my favors. To some, this garret would look like a dull place, but it never looks gloomy to me; I have had more pleasure in it than I could have had in the nicest parlor."

Having called one day after he had passed a sleepless and languishing night, I found him, with the Bible fixed before him, reading. He looked animated, and said, "I always loved to read the Bible, but I never understood it until very lately; now I understand it, and I find that religion and pleasure are in no way inconsistent. I feel now that I shall never recover. I am willing to die, and I shall be happy when I am gone from earth--but the Lord is very merciful, and can make me happy as long as He chooses that I should stay. I have trusted in Him through pain and through want, and I believe He will never forsake me. My Fifth has sometimes been closely tried, but I never let go my confidence."

His disease now rapidly increased, and with it his suffering. On the 23d of Fifth month, he conversed a long time with the doctor, and seemed more comfortable than usual; but he passed a sleepless and distressing night. The next day, he was able to take but little nourishment, owing to the great soreness of his mouth and throat, but he could converse intelligibly, and seemed anxious to do so. About two o'clock this day, I found him in great pain, but quite tranquil in mind.

On my going to him, he said, "My sufferings are now nearly over; I shall not live many days--not more than two. The Lord's time has nearly come, and then He will take me where I shall never suffer any more. O, how marvellous His mercy is, to look down upon such a polluted sinner as I am!

'I the worst of sinners am,
But Jesus came to save me.'--

Yes, He will save me--I know it. I have a hope--a pretty certain hope--O, it is a very certain hope--it is a very sure hope." He then in a low and indistinct voice, supplicated for many minutes; after which he said, "I have been talking to my Saviour."

Not expecting him to hear, I asked his mother if he had always been a serious boy; but before she could reply, George said, "No! I was always bad, always wicked; but since I was brought to this bed of sickness, I have sought for repentance, and I have found it: my sins were as scarlet, but now they are washed as white as snow. But it is all mercy, pure mercy; we have no righteousness of our own to depend upon--no works, no merit of our own will avail us at such a time as this. If these were all we had to look to, we should never be saved. But this is what Jesus came into the world for--to save us poor sinners; and salvation belongs to Him alone."

After this, he desired me to read to him in the Bible--said he would like to hear me read in the Psalms, where David deplored his sins. I did so, and he afterward composed himself and slept a few minutes; but the pain soon awoke him, and he said, "I hope my patience will hold out--I must not get impatient so near the end."

On the 25th, his sufferings greatly increased, and on the afternoon of the 26th, he was unable longer to speak, but he appeared to be sensible of what was passing, and to know those about him. He several times embraced his mother very tenderly and wept. The impress which the pain and anguish of the preceding day had left upon his countenance, now yielded to a placid and heavenly serenity; and his breath continued to shorten, until he ceased to breathe.

LOTT CAREY.

PRINCIPALLY FROM GURLEY'S LIFE OF ASHMUN.

This interesting individual was born a slave, on the estate of William A. Christian, in Charles City county, about thirty miles below Richmond. In 1804, he was sent to that city, and hired out by the year as a common laborer at the Shockoe warehouse. At that time, and for two or three years after, he was excessively profane, and much addicted to intoxication.

But God, who is rich in mercy, was pleased to awaken him to a sense of his lost estate; and in the year 1807, he made open profession of his faith in the Saviour. A sermon which he heard about that time, founded on our Lord's interview with Nicodemus, awakened in him so strong a desire to be able to read and write, that he obtained a Testament, and commenced learning his letters, by trying to read the chapter in which that interview is recorded.

He was occasionally instructed by young gentlemen at the warehouse, though he never attended a regular school. In a little time, he was able to read and write, so as to make dray tickets, and superintend the shipping of tobacco. In this business, and in overseeing the labor of the other hands in the warehouse, he was particularly useful; so much so, that he received 800 dollars salary in 1820, the last year he remained there; and he could have received a larger sum, if he would have continued.

In the year 1813, he bought himself and his two little children (his wife being dead) for 850 dollars, and thus became free. The manner in which he obtained this sum of money to purchase himself and his children, reflects much credit on his character. It will be seen from the salary he received after he was free, and which he relinquished for the sake of doing good in Africa, that his services at the warehouse were highly estimated; but of their real value, no one except a dealer in tobacco can form an idea. Notwithstanding the hundreds of hogsheads that were committed to his charge, he could produce any one the instant it was called for; and the shipments were made with a promptness and correctness, such as no person has equalled in the same situation. For this correctness and fidelity, he was highly esteemed, and frequently rewarded by the merchant with a five-dollar note. He was allowed also to sell for his benefit many small parcels of waste tobacco. It was by saving the little sums obtained in this way, with the aid of a subscription by the merchants to whose interests he had been attentive, that he procured these 850 dollars which he paid for the freedom of himself and children. When the colonists were fitted out for Africa, he defrayed a considerable part of his own expense. With a design to improve his condition, he emigrated to Africa among the first settlers of Liberia, where he was the means of doing much good to both colonists and natives.

In reply to one of his friends, who desired to know what inducement he had for going to Africa, when he was already so comfortably situated, he said, "I am an African; and in this country, however meritorious my conduct and respectable my character, I cannot receive the credit due to either. I wish to go to a country where I shall be estimated by my merits, not by my complexion. And I likewise feel bound to labor for my suffering race."

Soon after he made a profession of religion he commenced holding meetings and exhorting among the colored people; and, though he had scarcely any knowledge of books, and but little acquaintance with mankind, he would frequently exhibit a boldness of thought, and a strength of native intellect, which no acquirement could ever have given him.

At the close of his farewell sermon, on his departure for Africa, he remarked in substance as follows: "I am about to leave you; and I expect to see your faces no more. I long to preach to the poor Africans the way of life and salvation. I don't know what may befall me--whether I may find a grave in the ocean, or among the savage men, or more savage wild beasts, on the coast of Africa: nor am I anxious what may become of me; I feel it my duty to go.

"I very much fear that many of those who preach the gospel in this country will blush when the Saviour calls them to give an account of their labors in His cause, and tells them, 'I commanded you to go into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature.'" And with the most forcible emphasis he exclaimed, "The Saviour may ask, 'Where have you been? What have you been doing? Have you endeavored to the utmost of your ability to fulfil the commands I gave you? or have you sought your own gratification and your own ease, regardless of my commands?'"

In his new home, his intellectual ability, firmness of purpose, unbending integrity, correct judgment, and disinterested benevolence, caused him to be beloved and respected, and gave him great influence: and he soon rose to honorable distinction. The interests of the colony, and the cause of his countrymen, in both Africa and America, were very near to his heart. For them he was willing to toil, and to make almost any sacrifice; and he frequently declared that no possessions in America could induce him to return.

He possessed a constitution peculiarily fitted for toil and exposure, and he felt the effects of the climate perhaps less than any other individual in the colony. During the sickly season of the year, he was usually wholly employed in attending the sick; and for more than a year, they had no other physician among them. The little medical information he had obtained from Dr. Ayres and others on the coast, together with several years' experience, enabled him successfully to contend with the peculiar fevers of the climate.

Under date of March 12th, 1824, shortly after the arrival of the Cyrus with 105 emigrants, he wrote: "The fever began about the 24th ult., and on the 28th we had thirty-eight cases; and by the 2d inst. we had sixty-six under the operation of medicine; and at present, I have about a hundred cases of fever to contend with; but we have been very much favored, for they all appear to be on the recovery, and we have lost none, saving three children. I have very little time to write to you, myself being the only man that will venture to act in the capacity of a physician."

The managers of the American Colonization Society, in 1825, invited Carey to visit the United States, in the expectation that his intelligent and candid statements, concerning the condition and prospects of the colony and the moral wants of Africa, would exert a beneficial influence on the opinions of the people of color, and recommend the cause of the society to the public regard.

In the month of April, 1826, he made arrangements to embark in the Indian Chief, on her return from taking a large number of emigrants to the colony, and received from Ashmun testimonials of his worth and services. The following is an extract from a letter from Ashmun to the managers of the Colonization Society:

"The Rev. Lott Carey has, in my opinion, some claims on the justice of the society, or the government of the United States, or both, which merit consideration. These claims arise out of a long and faithful course of medical services rendered to this colony. More than one-half of his time has been given up to the care of the sick, from the day I landed in Africa to the very moment of stating the fact. He has personally aided, in every way that fidelity and benevolence could dictate, in all the attentions which our sick have in so long a period received.

"Several times have these disinterested labors reduced him to the very verge of the grave. He has hitherto received no compensation, either from the society or the government, for these services. I need _not_ add, that it has not been in his power to support himself and family, by any use he could make of the remnants of the time left him, after discharging the amount of duties devolving upon him. In addition, he has the care of the liberated Africans."

Until near the time of the Indian Chief's departure, he cherished the hope of embarking in her for America. But as there was no other physician in the colony, it was finally thought best for him to postpone his departure until another opportunity.

Notwithstanding he on one occasion manifested a disposition for insubordination, yet, like a wise man and a Christian, he soon saw his error, and acknowledged it with humility and submission. He was elected in September, 1826, to the vice-agency of the colony, and discharged the duties of that important office until his death.

In his good sense, moral worth, public spirit, courage, resolution, and decision, the colonial agent had perfect confidence. He knew that in times of difficulty or of danger, full reliance might be placed upon the energy and efficiency of Carey.

When compelled, in the early part of 1828, to leave the colony, Ashmun committed the administration of the colonial affairs into the hands of the vice-agent, in the full belief that no interest would be betrayed, but that his efforts would be constantly and anxiously directed to the promotion of the public good.

Soon after Carey wrote thus: "Feeling very sensibly my incompetency to enter upon the duties of my office, without first making all the officers of the colony well acquainted with the principal objects which should engage our attention, I invited them to meet at the Agency House on the 27th, at nine o'clock, which was punctually attended to, and I then read all the instructions left by Mr. Ashmun, without reserve, and requested their co-operation. To get the new settlers located on their lands, was a very important item in my instructions; and I trust, through the blessing of the great Ruler of events, we shall be able to realize all the expectations of Mr. Ashmun."

He soon purchased a large tract of land for the Colonization Society of the native kings; and further said, "Captain Russell will be able to give something like a fair account of the state of our improvements, as he went with me to visit the settlements, and seemed pleased with the prospect at Millsburg, Caldwell, and the Halfway Farms."

For about six months after the departure of Ashmun from the colony, Carey stood at its head, and conducted himself with such energy and wisdom as to do honor to his previous reputation, and fix the seal upon his enviable fame. But, alas! he was suddenly and unexpectedly, and in a distressing manner, forced from life, in all its vigor, by the explosion of gunpowder, on the 8th of November, in which eight persons lost their lives.

Carey was thrice married, and thrice he was left a widower. His first wife died, as before related, previous to his becoming free. His second wife died at Foura Bay, near Sierra Leone, shortly after arriving in Africa. Of her triumphant death, he has given a most affecting account in his journal of that date. His third wife died at Cape Montserado. She was the daughter of Richard Sampson, from Petersburg.

It has been very well said of Carey, that he was one of nature's noblemen. Had he possessed the advantages of education, few men of his age would have excelled him in knowledge or genius. To found a Christian colony which might prove a blessed asylum to his degraded brethren in America, and enlighten and regenerate Africa, was, in his view, an object with which no temporal good, not even life, could be compared.

The strongest sympathies of his nature were excited in behalf of his unfortunate people, and the divine promise cheered and encouraged him in his labors for their improvement and salvation. A main pillar in the society and church of Liberia has fallen! But we will not despond. The memorial of his worth shall never perish. It shall stand in a clearer light, when every chain is broken, and Christianity shall have assumed her sway over the millions of Africa.

THE GOOD MASTER AND HIS FAITHFUL SLAVE.

Translated from the French.

Warner Mifflin, for his candor, affability, and knowledge, was ranked among those who are an honor to their country and their age. He had received from his father thirty-seven negroes, old and young. The day that he had fixed upon for their emancipation being come, he called one after another into his chamber, and this was the conversation that passed with one of them:

"Well, my friend James, how old art thou?" "I am twenty-nine and a half years old, master." "Thou shouldst have been free, as thy white brethren are, at twenty-one. Religion and humanity enjoin me this day to give thee thy liberty, and justice requires me to pay thee for eight and a half years' service, at the rate of twenty-one pounds and five shillings per annum, including in it thy food and raiment, making altogether a sum of ninety-five pounds, twelve shillings, and sixpence owing to thee; but as thou art young and healthy, thou hadst better work for thy living: my intention is to give thee a bond for it, bearing interest at the rate of seven per cent.

"Thou hast now no master but God and the laws. Go into the next room; thou wilt find there thy late mistress and my nephew; they are engaged in writing thy manumission. May God bless thee, James! Be wise and industrious; in all thy trials, thou wilt find a friend in thy old master."

James, surprised at a scene so new and affecting, shed many tears; astonishment, gratitude, and a variety of feelings, shook his frame. He shed a flood of tears, and could scarcely articulate these words: "Ah, my master! why do you give me my liberty? I have always had what I wanted: we have worked together in the fields, and I have worked as much for myself as for you.

"I have eaten of the same food, and been clothed like you--and we have gone together on foot to meeting. We have the Sabbath to ourselves: we don't lack any thing. When we are sick, our good and tender mistress comes to our bedside, always saying something consolatory to us. Ah, my dear master! when I am free, where shall I go? and when I am sick--"

"Thou shalt be as the whites; thou shalt hire with those who will give thee generous wages: in a few years, thou shalt purchase a piece of land, marry a wife, wise and industrious as thyself, and rear up children, as I have reared thee, in the fear of the Lord and love of labor. After having lived free and happy, thou shalt die in peace.

"Thou _must_ accept liberty, James; it is a great while since it was due to thee. Would to God, the Father of all men, that the whites had never thought of trading in thy African brethren; may He inspire all men with the desire of following our example. We, who regard liberty as the first of blessings, why should we refuse it to those who live among us?"

"Ah, my master! you are so good is the reason I wish not to leave you--_I have never been a slave_. You have never spoken to me but as you speak to white men; I have lacked nothing, either in sickness or in health; I have never worked more than your neighbors, who have worked for themselves.

"I have been richer than many whites--to some of whom I have lent money. And my good and tender mistress never commands us to do anything, but makes us do everything by only saying, 'Please to do it.' How shall I leave you? give me by the year what you will, in the name of a freeman or a slave, it is of little consequence to me--I shall never be happy but with you--I will never leave you."

"Well, James, I consent to what thou desirest; after thy manumission shall have passed through the necessary forms, I will hire thee by the year; but take at least one of relaxation; it is a great epoch of thy life; celebrate it with joy, and rest by doing whatsoever thou wilt."

"No master! it is seed time--I will take my pleasure another time--one day only shall be a holiday in my family. Then, since you will have it so, I will accept my liberty; and my first action, as a free man, is to take your hand, my master, press it between mine, and lay it on my heart, where the attachment and gratitude of James will not cease until that ceases to beat; and until that moment be assured that no laborer in the county of Kent will be more industrious than he who henceforth shall be called FAITHFUL JAMES."

EZEKIEL COSTON.

Aged upwards of eighty-three years, related to Samuel Canby, of Wilmington, Delaware, in 1825, the following circumstances of his freedom from his master, the late Warner Mifflin, a Quaker: and it may be observed, that he always supported an unblemished character:

That he was born a slave in the family of Daniel Mifflin, of Accomack county, Virginia, with whom he lived until about twenty years of age; about which period Warner Mifflin (son of Daniel) married a daughter of John Kensey's, of West River, Maryland, and settled near Camden, in the State of Delaware. Ezekiel, and five other slaves, were given him by his father; there were also a number of slaves belonging to his wife brought into the family.

He lived with Warner Mifflin about eighteen months, when he put him on a plantation of his to work it, about six miles from his residence, where he continued about four years a slave. At this period Ezekiel was informed by his master that he had concluded to set his slaves free; and very soon after his master came to his residence, and calling him from the field where he was ploughing, they sat down together, when he told Ezekiel his mind had long been uneasy with holding slaves, and that he must let him go.

Ezekiel was so well satisfied with his present situation, that he told his master he could not leave him. Their conversation on the subject produced such feelings of tenderness that they _both wept much_. Finally, as an inducement to comply, his master told him he might remain on the farm, and they entered into a mutual engagement, which was carried into effect, and Ezekiel continued to live on the farm fourteen years, when his master gave him a piece of land, upon which he built a house, where he remained until he came into the neighborhood of Wilmington, where and in that town he has resided until the present time.

After relating the foregoing narrative, he was inquired of respecting the account entitled "The Good Master and his Faithful Slave"--a circumstance which took place about the time of his being liberated, and in the same family--to which he bore the following testimony, shedding many tears while the reader was pursuing the theme, saying, "It is just so, poor Jem and I lived together with master, and worked together in harmony. How well I remember when Jem told me that Master Mifflin had done the same by him as he had done for me.

"It is all true--mistress brought a number of slaves with her into the family, after master married her--one of them was my wife--all the rest of us, making, I suppose about thirty, were given by old master to Master Warner, who is now an angel in heaven. Oh, how it comforts me to believe that, after suffering a few more pains, I shall live with him for ever in communion sweet! We were brought up children together, slept together, eat at the same table, and never quarrelled."

The dear old man seems indeed like one waiting with Christian resignation for an entrance into the heavenly kingdom. I have no doubt of the correctness of his testimony. He appears to have as perfect a recollection of the days of his childhood as though they had just passed.

AN ANECDOTE,

Communicated to a Friend on the way from Charleston to Savannah by a Fellow-Passenger.

A slave belonging to his grandmother was carried off when a boy by the British, in the time of the revolutionary war, to Nova Scotia, where he lived several years; but he did not forget his old home and friends, and he returned to his mistress, giving himself up as a slave. But she, not having employment for him, talked of selling him. He told her if she did, he was determined to destroy himself, for that it was nothing but his attachment to the family that brought him back. He was then suffered to work out, paying a certain part of his wages to his owner.

The family soon after became embarrassed; and one of the grandsons was sent to the West Indies to a relation. Just as he was embarking, the faithful black put into his hand a purse containing all his little earnings, and insisted upon his young master's taking it, saying he had no use for the money himself, and his master might want it in a strange country, away from his friends. The slave, still living in Charleston, was suffered to work for himself. He has had repeated offers of his liberty, but he prefers living in the family that brought him up.

THE COLORED FOUNDLING.

A poor, but honest and respectable old man, whose name was Hector, resided in Philadelphia. He and his wife lived on the scanty earnings of their own hands, in a very small cottage. One evening, at a late hour, a woman of their own color, with an infant, stopped at their dwelling and asked for a night's lodging, to which his wife answered, "We can't lodge you, we got but one bed." "Oh," said the old man, seeing her a stranger and in difficulty, "let her tag [stay], she sleep in de bed with you, I go make a bed on de floor--must not turn her out o' doors."

The woman accordingly stayed; and in the night, Hector was awakened by the cries of the child. He arose to ascertain the cause of it, and found the mother was gone; on which he aroused his wife, saying, "Well, Sukey, you see de woman has gone off and lef' de child for you." "Oh," said his wife, "what shall we do now? She never come again." "Well," returned Hector, "then you must take care of him: who knows God Almighty send him here for something--may be to take care of us in our old age--must not turn him out o' doors."

So they fed and nourished it with milk from the market--the old man going regularly to procure it. No one appearing, the child became their adopted. When he had attained the age of eight or nine years, proving an active lad, they put him to a chimney sweeper, as the most likely way for him to become early useful, and he soon contributed a little to his guardian's subsistence.

They at length grew quite infirm, and the wife died. After which, the neighbors, thinking it too much for the lad to have the whole care of the old man, prevailed on him to go to the Bettering House. When there the boy did not forsake but frequently visited him, and continued to add to his support until he died; a few days after which the lad died also, having grown up beloved and respected.

THE GRATEFUL NEGRO.

Some years since, a gentleman, who was the possessor of considerable property, from various causes became embarrassed in his circumstances and was arrested by his creditors, and confined in the king's bench prison; whence there was no probability of his being liberated, unless some law proceedings (upon his succeeding in which the recovery of a great part of his property depended) were decided in his favor.

Thus situated, he called a colored man who had for many years served him with the greatest faithfulness, and said, "Robert, you have lived with me many years, but I am now unable to maintain you any longer; you must leave me, and endeavor to find another master."

The poor man, well remembering his master's kindness, replied, "No, massa, me no leave you; you maintain me many years, me now try what I can do for you." Robert then went and procured employment as a day laborer, and regularly brought his earnings to his master; on which, though small, they managed to subsist for some time, until the law-suit was decided in the master's favor, and he thereby regained possession of a very considerable property.

Mindful of his faithful servant, one of his first acts was to settle an annuity upon him for the remainder of his life, sufficient to secure to the poor fellow the enjoyment of those comforts he had so well deserved. This little anecdote may afford instruction both to the nominal and professing Christian: let the former inquire, Should I have acted thus, if in a similar situation?

THE FAITHFUL NURSE.

FROM THE LADIES' MONTHLY MUSEUM.

In the dreadful earthquake which made such ravages in the island of St. Domingo, in the year 1770, a colored nurse found herself alone in the house of her master and mistress, with the youngest child, which she nursed. The house shook to its foundation. Every one had taken flight; she alone could not escape, without leaving her infant charge in danger.

She flew to the chamber, where it lay in the most profound sleep. At the moment the walls of the house fell in, anxious only for the safety of her foster child, she threw herself over it, and serving as a sort of arch, saved it from destruction. The child was indeed saved; but the unfortunate nurse died soon after, the victim of her fidelity.

COFFIN.

FROM DR. MOYES'S LECTURES.

During the late war a gentleman and his wife were going from the East Indies to England. His wife died on the passage, and left two infants, the charge of which fell to a colored boy about seventeen years of age. The gentleman, for some reason which I do not recollect, went on board the vessel of the commodore of the fleet in which they sailed. There came on a violent storm, and the vessel which the children were on board of was on the point of being lost.

They despatched a boat from the commodore's vessel, to save as many as they could. They had almost filled the boat, and there was room enough for the infants, or the negro boy. What did he do? He did not hesitate a moment, but put the children into the boat, and said, "Tell my master that Coffin has done his duty;" and that instant he was received into the bosom of the ocean, never more to return. The queen requested the celebrated poetess, Hannah Moore, to write an epic poem on it, but she wisely declined it, saying that no art could embellish so noble a sentiment.

JAMES DERHAM,

Originally a slave in Philadelphia, was sold by his master to a physician, who employed him in his shop as assistant in the preparation of drugs. During the war between America and England he was sold to a surgeon, and by that surgeon to Dr. Robert Dove, of New Orleans. He learned the English, French, and Spanish languages, so as to speak them with ease.

He was received a member of the English church; and in the year 1788, when he was about twenty-one years of age, he became one of the most distinguished physicians in New Orleans. "I conversed with him on medicine," says Dr. Rush, and "found him very learned. I thought I could give _him_ information concerning the treatment of diseases, but I learned more from him than he could expect from me."

The Pennsylvania Society, established in favor of the people of color, thought it their duty, in 1789, to publish these facts, which are also related by Dickson, page 184. In the Domestic Medicine of Buchan, and in a work of Duplaint, we find accounts of a cure for the bite of the rattlesnake. I know not whether Derham was its discoverer, but it is a well-known fact that one of his color did make such a discovery, for which he received, from the General Assembly of Carolina, his freedom and an annuity of a hundred pounds sterling.

THE AFRICAN PRINCE.

In the most flourishing period of the reign of Louis XIV. two African youths, the sons of a prince, being brought to the court of France, the king appointed a Jesuit to instruct them in letters and in the Christian religion; and gave to each of them a commission in his guards. The elder, who was remarkable for candor and ingenuousness, made great improvement, more particularly in the doctrines of religion.

A brutal officer, upon some dispute, insulted him with a blow. The gallant youth never so much as offered to resent it. A person who was his friend took an opportunity to talk with him that evening alone upon his behavior, which he told him was too tame, especially in a soldier. "Is there then," said the young African, "one revelation for soldiers, and another for merchants and gownsmen? The good father to whom I owe all my knowledge, has earnestly inculcated in me forgiveness of injuries; assuring me that a Christian was by no means to retaliate abuses of any kind."

"The good father," replied his friend, "may fit you for a monastery, by his lessons, but never for the army and the rules of a court. In a word," continued he, "if you do not call the colonel to an account, you will be branded with the infamy of cowardice, and have your commission taken from you." "I would fain," said the young man, "act consistently in every thing; but since you press me with that regard to my honor which you have always shown, I will wipe off so foul a stain; though I must own I gloried in it before."

Immediately upon this, he desired his friend to go from him and appoint the aggressor to meet him early in the morning. Accordingly, they met and fought, and the brave African youth disarmed his adversary, and forced him to ask his pardon publicly. This done, the next day he threw up his commission, and desired the king's leave to return to his father.

At parting, he embraced his brother and his friends, with tears in his eyes, saying that he had not imagined Christians to be so unaccountable a people; that he could not apprehend their faith could be of any use to them, if it did not influence their practice; and that, in his country, they thought it no dishonor to act according to the principles of their religion.

UNCLE HARRY.

FROM THE LITERARY AND EVANGELICAL MAGAZINE, 1824.

Late in the last autumn it was my privilege (says the author) to spend a few hours in the hospitable mansion of the Rev. S. B. W., of F. I arrived at his house very early in the morning, just before the family assembled to perform their customary devotions. On the signal being given, the children and domestics came into the room where we were sitting.

Among the latter, there was a very aged colored man, whom every one called Uncle Harry. As soon as he entered, I observed that Mr. W. and his lady treated him with marked attention and kindness. The morning was sharp and frosty, and Uncle Harry had a chair in the corner, close to the fire.

The portion of Scripture selected for the service was the second chapter of Luke. I observed that the attention of Harry was deeply fixed, and he soon began to manifest strong emotions. The old man's eye kindled as the reader went on, and when he came to the tenth verse, Harry appeared as though his heart was tuned to the angelic song, and he could hardly help uttering a shout of triumph.

There was not, however, the smallest ostentation of feeling, or endeavor to attract attention. He only, in a gentle manner, turned his face upward, strongly clasping his hands as they lay on his lap, and expressing by his countenance the joy of his heart. By this time he had interested me so highly that I could not keep my eyes from him.

I watched the varying expressions of his countenance, and saw that every word seemed to strike on his heart, and produce a corresponding emotion. I thought I would give the world, if I could _read_ the Bible just as Harry _heard_ it. While I was thinking, and looking on with intense interest, the reader came to the passage where old Simeon saw the infant Saviour, took him in his arms, blessed God, and said, "Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation."

Harry's emotion had become stronger and stronger, until the words just quoted were read, when he was completely overpowered. Suddenly turning on his seat, to hide as much as possible his feelings, he bent forward and burst into a flood of tears; but they were tears of joy. He anticipated his speedy peaceful departure and his final rest. This state of feeling continued during the remainder of the service, and when we rose from our knees, Uncle Harry's face seemed literally to have been bathed in tears.

As soon as we had risen, the old man came toward me with a countenance beaming with joy. "This," said Mr. W., addressing me, "is _Uncle Harry_." He reached out his hand and said: "Oh, why did my God bring me here to-day, to hear what I have heard, and see this salvation?" I asked: "Are you as ready to depart, Uncle Harry, as good old Simeon was, of whom we read in this chapter?" I shall never forget his look of humble, joyful submission, when he replied, "Just when it shall please my blessed Lord and Master." "You hope to go to heaven?" "Through divine mercy, I do." "What is the foundation of that hope?" "The righteousness of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ."

On perceiving that I wished to converse with the old man, Mr. W. said, with a kindness which showed that he recognized Harry as a Christian brother, and respected his age: "Come, take your seat again, Uncle Harry, and sit up near the fire." He accepted the invitation, and I entered into conversation, which afforded me higher pleasure than I ever enjoyed in the circles of fashion, beauty, wit and learning. I here send you some of the most interesting particulars.

"How old are you, Uncle Harry?" "Why, as nigh as I can tell, I am eighty-nine or thereabout." "Where were you born?" "At Port Tobacco, in Maryland." "And who had you to preach the gospel to you there?" "Ah, we had no preacher of the gospel there at that time." "Then it was after you left Port Tobacco that you embraced religion, was it?" "No, sir, it was while I lived there, and I will tell you how it was: A great many years ago there was one Dr. Whitefield, that travelled all through this country, preaching the gospel everywhere; I dare say you have heard of Dr. Whitefield, he was a most powerful preacher.

"Well, as I was saying, he went through Maryland, but his place of preaching was so far off that I did not hear of it until he was gone. But not long afterwards I met a man, an acquaintance of mine, who did hear him. He told me about the sermon; and what I heard opened my eyes to see that I was a poor lost sinner; and ever since that time I have been determined to seek Jesus as my Saviour, and to spend my life in His service."

Happy Whitefield! thought I, and greatly honored of thy Master, who has used thee as His instrument in saving so many souls. "But," said I, "how old were you then?" "Why, as nigh as I can guess, I was somewhere about sixteen or seventeen years old." "And have you never repented of this resolution?" "No, indeed, master; I have never repented of any thing, but that I have served my blessed Saviour so poorly."

"But have you not met many trials and difficulties by the way?" "Yes, indeed, master; but out of them all the Lord has delivered me; and having obtained help of God, I continue to this day: blessed be His name; He never will leave me or forsake me; I have good hope of that."

"Well, how did you obtain religious instruction where you lived, as you say there was no preacher of the gospel in the neighborhood?" "Why, by the mercy of my God, I learned to read the Bible; and that showed me the way to Jesus. But now I think of it, when the Roman Catholics heard that I was concerned about my soul, they sent for me, and tried hard to get me to join them.

"There was a priest at Port Tobacco, whose name was Mr. O'Neal; he talked to me a great deal. I remember he said to me one day, 'Harry, now you are concerned about your soul, you must come and join the Catholic church.' 'What for,' said I, 'Mr. O'Neal?' 'Because,' said he, 'it is the true church.' 'Then,' said I, 'if the Catholic church will lead me to Jesus, I will join it with all my heart, for that is all I want;' and Mr. O'Neal said, 'If you will join the church, I will warrant that you shall go to heaven.' 'How can you do that, Mr. O'Neal?' said I.

"Then he told me that a great many years ago our Saviour came into the world, and He chose twelve apostles, and made St. Peter their head; and the Pope succeeded St. Peter; and so all that join the Pope belong to the true church. 'Then,' said I, 'why, how do you know that, Mr. O'Neal?' 'Because,' said he, 'our Saviour told Peter, I give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven; and whatsoever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatsoever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.'