Chapter VII: Part 7

"And I said, 'The Lord knows how it is, Mr. O'Neal; I am a poor ignorant creature, but it always did seem to me that Peter was nothing but a man, like the other apostles;' but Mr. O'Neal said, 'No, he was the head and chief of the apostles; for our Saviour said again, Thou art Peter, and on this rock I will build My church; and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.' And I asked him, 'Now, do you think Peter was that rock, Mr. O'Neal?' He answered, 'To be sure he was;' and I said again, 'The Lord knows how it is; but it never did seem so to me.

"'Now I think it was just so--when Peter said, Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God, our Saviour told him, Thou _art Peter_,'" (while the old man repeated the words, _Thou art Peter_, he pointed his finger at me, and looked me directly in the face, but as soon as he began the following part of the quotation he brought his hand briskly down to his knee, saying with emphasis, as he looked at himself), "'and upon this rock will I build My church; and that rock was Christ; for it is written in another place, Behold, I lay in Zion a chief corner-stone, elect, precious; and he that believeth on Him shall not be confounded; and that corner-stone is Christ.'

"Then Mr. O'Neal said to me, 'Why, Harry, where did you learn that?' I said, 'From my Bible.' 'Oh!' said he, 'you have no business with the Bible; it will confuse and frustrate you.' But I said, 'It tells me of my Saviour.' Then a gentleman, who was sitting by, said, 'Oh! you might as well let him alone, Mr. O'Neal; you cannot make anything of him;' and from that time I never had any desire to join the Roman Catholics."

The narrative, of the truth of which I could not entertain a moment's doubt, showed a promptness of reply and an acquaintance with the Scriptures which truly surprised me, and I remarked, "I suppose, Uncle Harry, you take great pleasure in reading the Bible?" "Ah, master! when I could read, it was the pleasure of my life. But I am old now; and my book is so rubbed that the print is dim, and I can scarcely make out to read a word."

On this, Mr. W. said, "Well, Uncle Harry, you shall have a new Bible. Do you call on Mr. ----, when you go down town, and he will give you a new one from the Bible Society." Harry bowed, and expressed gratitude for the kindness, but did not manifest as much pleasure as I expected, considering how highly he professed to value the Bible. While I was wondering, and rather sorrowing on the account, I observed the old man to be feeling, with an air of embarrassment, in his pocket.

At length he pulled out an old tattered case, which appeared to have been long in use, and observed, "This new Bible will not be of much use to me, because my spectacles are so bad that they help me very little in reading." With that he opened his case, and showed a pair of spectacles of the cheapest sort, of which one glass was broken, and the other so scratched, that it was wonderful that he could see through it at all.

Mr. W. no sooner observed this than he said, "Well, Uncle Harry, you must have a new pair; do call at Mr. ----'s store, and tell him to let you have a pair suited to your age, and I will settle with him about it." On hearing this, Harry's eyes gleamed with joy, and he exclaimed, "Thank God! God bless you, master! Now I shall have comfort again in reading the Bible." And I never saw a happier, or a more grateful countenance.

Presently, he said the wagon would soon call for him to take him home, and he must go down town, and be getting ready: on which he again thanked his friend, and invoked a blessing on him and his family. He then affectionately and respectfully took me by the hand, and said, "I never saw you before, and I never shall see you again in this world; but I love you as a minister of my blessed Lord and Master, and I hope that I shall meet you in the house above. Remember and pray for poor old Harry."

I squeezed his hand, and assured him of my affectionate remembrance, and requested that he would pray for me, and for the preachers of the Gospel generally. "Oh!" said he, "may God Almighty bless all the dear ministers of Christ, and enable them to call many poor sinners to the dear Saviour! Oh! I do love to hear of souls coming to Christ; and it is my daily prayer--Thy kingdom come, and Thy will be done on earth, as it is done in heaven!" With that the old man took leave.

I confess that I have often since wished to see him and hold communion with him. There was about him a spirit of piety and benevolence, of humble zeal and fervent hope, of meekness and submission, which I have rarely seen equalled. At the same time, there was a degree of intelligence, an extent of religious knowledge, which, in his condition, really surprised and delighted me.

I saw here one of the triumphs of divine grace. I was made to appreciate the value and the excellence of that religion which could take a poor slave, and so transform him, that he was well nigh fitted to be a companion of saints in light, and of just men made perfect. And since I saw him, I have often prayed that after the days of my wandering shall be over, and all the sufferings of my life shall be endured, I may obtain a share in the rest, and a lot in the inheritance, which I have no doubt are prepared for Uncle Harry.

THE HOSPITABLE NEGRO WOMAN.

The enterprising traveller, Mungo Park, was employed by the African Association to explore the interior regions of Africa. In this hazardous undertaking, he encountered many dangers and difficulties. His wants were often supplied, and his distress alleviated, by the kindness and compassion of negroes. He gives the following lively and interesting account of the hospitable treatment he received from a poor negro woman:

"Being arrived at Sego, the capital of the kingdom of Bambarra, situated on the banks of the Niger, I wished to pass over to that part of the town in which the king resides; but from the number of persons eager to obtain a passage, I was under the necessity of waiting two hours. During this time the people who had crossed the river carried information to Mansong, the king, that a white man was waiting for a passage, and was coming over to see him.

"He immediately sent over one of his chief men, who informed me that the king could not possibly see me until he knew what had brought me into this country, and that I must not presume to cross the river without the king's permission. He therefore advised me to lodge, for that night, in a distant village, to which he pointed, and said that in the morning he would give me further instruction how to conduct myself. This was very discouraging. However, as there was no remedy, I set off for the village; where I found, to my great mortification, that no person would admit me into his house.

"From prejudices infused into their minds, I was regarded with astonishment and fear; and I was obliged to sit the whole day without victuals, in the shade of a tree. The night threatened to be very uncomfortable; the wind rose, and there was great appearance of a heavy rain. The wild beasts too were so numerous in the neighborhood, that I should have been under the necessity of climbing up a tree, and resting among the branches.

"About sunset, however, as I was preparing to pass the night in this manner, and had turned my horse loose, that he might graze at liberty, a negro woman, returning from the labors of the field, stopped to observe me; and perceiving that I was weary and dejected, she inquired into my situation. I briefly explained it to her; after which, with looks of great compassion, she took up my saddle and bridle, and told me to follow her. Having conducted me into her hut, she lighted a lamp, spread a mat on the floor, and told me I might remain there for the night.

"Finding I was very hungry, she went out to procure me something to eat; and returned in a short time with a very fine fish, which, having caused it to be half broiled upon some embers, she gave me for supper. The rites of hospitality being thus performed toward a stranger in distress, my worthy benefactress (pointing to the mat, and telling me I might sleep there without apprehension), called to the female part of her family, who had stood gazing on me all the while in fixed astonishment, to resume their task of spinning cotton; in which they continued to employ themselves a great part of the night.

"They lightened their labor by songs, one of which was composed extempore; for I was myself the subject of it. It was sung by one of the young women, the rest joining in a sort of chorus. The air was sweet and plaintive, and the words, literally translated, were these: 'The winds roared, and the rain fell. The poor white man, faint and weary, came and sat under our tree. He has no mother to bring him milk, no wife to grind his corn.' _Chorus_: 'Let us pity the white man; no mother has he to bring him milk, no wife to grind his corn.'[1]

"Trifling as these events may appear to the reader, they were to me affecting in the highest degree. I was oppressed by such unexpected kindness, and sleep fled from my eyes. In the morning, I presented to my compassionate landlady two of the four brass buttons which remained on my waistcoat; the only recompense it was in my power to make her."

FOOTNOTE:

[1] These simple and affecting sentiments have been very beautifully versified.

1. The loud wind roar'd, the rain fell fast,
The white man yielded to the blast.
He sat him down beneath the tree,
For weary, sad, and faint was he:
And ah! no wife's or mother's care,
For him the milk or com prepare.

CHORUS.

The white man shall our pity share--
Alas! no wife's or mother's care
For him the milk or corn prepare.

2. The storm is o'er, the tempest past,
And Mercy's voice has hush'd the blast;
The wind is heard in whispers low,
The white man far away must go;
But ever in his heart will bear
Remembrance of the negro's care.

CHORUS.

Go, white man, go; but with thee bear
The negro's wish, the negro's prayer,
Remembrance of the negro's care.

GRATITUDE IN A LIBERATED SLAVE.

Some time in the year 1790 a member of the Manumission Society, residing on Golden Hill (now called John Street) in New York, observed, for a considerable time, his front porch to be scrubbed and sanded, every Seventh-day morning before the family were up. He ordered a servant to watch, and ascertain to whom he was indebted for this singular mark of kindness.

At an early hour in the morning a colored woman was observed with her pail, brush, cloth, soap and sand, carefully performing her accustomed task. The domestic who had been on the watch followed her home, and requested to know her inducements for performing this service. Her reply was, "Massa got me free, and I can do no less than scrub off the stoop." A gratitude so genuine and untainted is rarely found among the most polished and refined minds.

AGNES MORRIS.

Another narrative, respecting a dying woman, displays a faith so strong, a hope so full of immortality, as may lead the Christian reader to exclaim, "Let my last hours be like those of this poor slave." Agnes Morris, a poor negro woman, sent a pressing request to Mrs. Thwaites, a lady residing in Antigua, to visit her: she was in the last stage of dropsy.

This poor creature ranked among the lowest class of slaves. Her all consisted of a little wattled[2] hut and a few clothes. Mrs. Thwaites, finding her at the commencement of her illness in a very destitute condition, mentioned her case to a friend, who gave her a coat. When she paid her last visit, on her entering the door, Agnes exclaimed, "Missis! you come! This tongue can't tell what Jesus do for me! Me call my Saviour day and night; and He come"--laying her hand on her breast--"He comfort me here."

On being asked if she was sure of going to heaven when she died, she answered, "Yes, me sure. Me see de way clear, and shine before me"--looking and pointing upward with a smiling face. "If di dis minute, Jesus will take me home, me ready." Some hymns being sung, she was in a rapture of joy; and in reference to the words of one of them, exclaimed, "For me--for me--poor sinner!"--lifting up her swelled hands--"what a glory! what a glory!"

Seeing her only daughter weeping, she said, "What you cry for? No cry--follow Jesus--He will take care of you." And turning to Mrs. Thwaites, she said, "Missis, show um de path:" meaning the path to heaven. Many other expressions fell from her of a similar nature, to the astonishment of those who heard her. It was understood she continued praying and praising God to her latest breath.

This poor creature was destitute of all earthly comforts. Her bed was a board, with a few plantain leaves over it. How many of these outcasts will be translated from outward wretchedness to realms of glory, there to mingle with the blessed, and sing praises to Hun who lives for ever!

FOOTNOTE:

[2] Plaited twigs.

EXTRAORDINARY EXERTIONS TO OBTAIN LIBERTY.

That human being who would run the gauntlet for freedom so desperately as the poor African appears to have done, whose story is given below, surely should never again be brought under the lash of a taskmaster. The captain of a vessel from North Carolina called upon the police for advisement respecting a slave he had unconsciously brought away in his vessel, under the following curious circumstances:

Three or four days after he had got to sea he began to be haunted every hour with tones of distress seemingly proceeding from a human voice in the very lowest part of the vessel. A particular scrutiny was finally instituted, and it was concluded that the creature, whatever or whoever it might be, must be confined down in the run under the cabin floor; and on boring a hole with an auger, and demanding, '_Who's there?_' a feeble voice responded, '_Poor negro, massa!_' It was clear enough then that some runaway negro had hid himself there before they sailed, trusting to Providence for his ultimate escape.

Having discovered him, however, it was impossible to give him relief, for the captain had stowed even the cabin so completely full of cotton as but just to leave room for a small table for himself and the mate to eat on; and as for unloading at sea, that was pretty much out of the question. Accordingly, there he had to lie, stretched at full length, for the tedious interval of _thirteen days_, till the vessel arrived in port and unloaded, receiving his food and drink through the auger hole.

The fellow's story is, now he is released, that, being determined to get away from slavery, he supplied himself with eggs, and biscuit, and some jugs of water, which latter he was just on the point of depositing in his lurking-place, when he discovered the captain at a distance coming on board, and had to hurry down as fast as possible and leave them; that he lived on nothing but his eggs and biscuit till discovered by the captain, not even getting a drop of water, except what he had the good fortune to catch in his hand one day, when a vessel of water in the cabin was overset, during a squall, and some of it ran down through the cracks of the floor over him.

WILLIAM BOWEN.

Died, near Mount Holly, New Jersey, 12th of sixth month, 1824, in the 90th year of his age, William Bowen, a man of color. The deceased was one of those who have demonstrated the truth of that portion of Scripture that, "in every nation, he that feareth God and worketh righteousness is accepted with Him."

He was concerned in early life to do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with his God; and by closely attending to the light of Christ, and faithfully abiding under the operation of that blessed spirit of Divine Grace in his soul, he was enabled not only to bear many precious testimonies, through his life, but to bring forth those fruits of the Spirit which redound to the glory of God and to the salvation of the soul.

He was an exemplary member of the religious Society of Friends. As he lived so he died, a rare pattern of a self-denying follower of Jesus Christ. He had no apparent disease either of body or mind; and as he expressed himself, but a short time before his death, "he felt nothing but weakness," which continued to increase until he gently breathed his last, and no doubt entered into his Heavenly Father's rest. "Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright, for the end of that man is peace."

ANTHONY BENEZET.

Died, on the 3d of fifth month, 1784, Anthony Benezet, aged 71 years, a member of the Society of Friends. It was a day of sorrow. The afflicted widow, the unprotected orphan, and the poor of all descriptions, had lost the sympathetic mind of Benezet. Society lamented the extinguishment of the brilliant light of his philanthropy.

The wandering tribes in the American wilderness, and the oppressed Africans, were indeed bereft; for his willing pen and tongue had ceased forever to portray the history of their injuries, or plead for the establishment of their rights, before the sons of men.

At the interment of his remains, in Friends' burial ground in Philadelphia, was the greatest concourse of people that had ever been witnessed on such an occasion; being a collection of all ranks and professions among the inhabitants; thus manifesting the universal esteem in which he was held.

Among others who paid that last tribute of respect were many hundred colored people, testifying, by their attendance and by their tears, the grateful sense they entertained of his pious efforts in their behalf. Having no children, by his will he bequeathed his estate to his wife during her natural life. At her decease, he directed several small sums to be paid to poor and obscure persons.

The residue he devised in trust to the overseers of the public school, "to hire and employ a religious-minded person or persons to teach a number of negro, mulatto or Indian children to read, write, arithmetic, plain accounts, needle-work, etc. And it is my particular desire, founded on the experience I have had in that service, that, in the choice of such tutor, special care may be taken to prefer an industrious, careful person, of true piety, who may be or become suitably qualified, who would undertake the service from a principle of charity, to one more highly learned not equally disposed."

He also bequeathed, as a special legacy, the sum of fifty pounds to the Society in Pennsylvania for the promotion of the abolition of slavery. Thus closed the life of this great and good man. Dispensing his blessings with his own hand, he was too liberal to be a man of wealth. He was a native of France; and in the ancient records of his family are exhibited evidences of religious character in his predecessors.

Connected with the demise of his grandfather, the event is said to be, "to the great affliction of his children, and the universal regret of his relatives and friends, for he was a model of virtue and purity, and lived in the constant fear of God." Attached to the birth-note of his grandson Anthony, are these expressions: "May God bless him, in making him a partaker of his mercies." Though virtue is not hereditary, it must be admitted that example is powerful.

Among the productions of Anthony Benezet's pen, was, "An historical account of Guinea, its situation, produce, and the general disposition of its inhabitants; with an inquiry into the rise and progress of the slave trade, its nature, and calamitous effects."

_Note from the Memoirs of A. Benezet._

The influence of this work, in giving an impulse to the mind of the indefatigable and benevolent Thomas Clarkson, whose exertions contributed so much toward bringing about the abolition of the slave trade by the British Parliament, is certainly remarkable. In the year 1785, Dr. Peckard, vice-chancellor of the University of Cambridge, proposed to the senior Bachelors of Arts, of whom Clarkson was one, the following question for a Latin dissertation: viz. (in English), "Is it right to make slaves of others against their will?"

Having in the former year gained a prize for the best Latin dissertation, he resolved to maintain the classical reputation he had acquired by applying himself to the subject; but it was one with which he was by no means familiar, and he was at a loss what authors to consult respecting it; "when going by accident," he says, "into a friend's house, I took up a newspaper then lying on the table.

"One of the articles which attracted my notice, was an advertisement of Anthony Benezet's historical account of Guinea. I soon left my friend and his paper, and, to lose no time, hastened to London to buy it. In this precious book I found almost all I wanted." The information furnished by Benezet's book encouraged him to complete his essay, which was rewarded with the first prize; and from that moment, Clarkson's mind became interested with the great subject of the abolition.

EXTRAORDINARY MUNIFICENCE.

FROM THE GENIUS OF UNIVERSAL EMANCIPATION--1825.

A paragraph has lately gone the round of the papers announcing that a gentleman of Virginia had emancipated _upwards of eighty slaves_, and chartered a vessel to send them at his own expense to Hayti, but without giving the name of the author of so distinguished an act of munificence.

"We think it due to justice," says the Norfolk Herald, "to supply this deficiency, and to add the following facts, which have been communicated to us by gentlemen familiar with them, as well as by Captain Russell, one of the owners of the brig Hannah and Elizabeth, of Baltimore, the vessel chartered.

"The gentleman who has thus distinguished himself, is David Minge, of Charles City county, living near Sandy Point, on James River. Captain Russell informs us that there were put on board the Hannah and Elizabeth eighty-seven colored people of different ages, from three months to forty years, being all the slaves Mr. Minge owned, except two old men, whom he had likewise manumitted, but who, being past service, he retains and supports them.

"The value of these negroes, at the prices now going, might be estimated at about twenty-six thousand dollars! and Mr. Minge expended, previous to their embarkation, about twelve hundred dollars in purchasing ploughs, hoes, iron, and other articles of husbandry for them; besides providing them with several suits of clothes to each, provisions, groceries, cooking utensils, and everything which he supposed they might require for their comfort during the passage, and for their use after their arrival out. He also paid sixteen hundred dollars for the charter of the vessel.

"But Mr. Minge's munificence does not end here. On the bank of the river, as they were about to go on board, he had a peck of dollars brought down, and calling them around him, under a tree, he distributed the hoard among them, in such sums, and under such regulations, that each individual did, or would, receive seven dollars.

"By this provision, Mr. Minge thought his emigrants would be enabled to commence the cultivation of the soil immediately after their arrival, without being dependent on President Boyer for any favor whatever, unless the permission to improve the government lands be so considered.

"Mr. Minge is about twenty-four or twenty-five years of age, unmarried, and unencumbered in every respect; possesses an ample fortune, and received the benefits of a collegiate education at Harvard University.

"We have heard of splendid sacrifices at the shrine of philanthropy; aged men, on quitting the stage of mortal existence, have bequeathed large endowments to public charities, and princely legacies to religious and moral institutions. But where shall we find an instance of the kind attributable to a man of Mr. Minge's age? The case, we believe, is without a parallel."

TEMPTATION RESISTED AND HONESTY REWARDED.

FROM DILLWYN'S ANECDOTES.

A poor chimney sweeper's boy was employed at the house of a lady of rank to sweep the chimney of the room in which she usually dressed. When finding himself on the hearth of a richly-furnished dressing room, and perceiving no one there, he waited a few moments to take a view of the beautiful things in the apartment.

A gold watch, richly set with diamonds, particularly caught his attention, and he could not forbear taking it in his hand. Immediately the wish rose in his mind, "Ah! if you had such a one!" After a pause, he said to himself, "But if I take it I shall be a thief; and yet," continued he, "nobody would know it; nobody sees me--nobody! Does not God see me, who is present everywhere?" Overcome by these thoughts, a cold shivering seized him. "No," said he, putting down the watch, "I would much rather be poor, and keep my good conscience, than rich and become a rascal." At these words he hastened back into the chimney.

The lady, who was in the room adjoining, having overheard the conversation with himself, sent for him the next morning, and thus accosted him: "My little friend, why did you not take the watch yesterday?" The boy fell on his knees, speechless and astonished. "I heard every thing you said," continued her ladyship; "thank God for enabling you to resist this temptation, and be watchful over yourself for the future: from this moment you shall be in my service: I will both maintain and clothe you: nay, more, procure you good instruction, which will assist to guard you from the danger of similar temptations."

The boy burst into tears; he was anxious to express his gratitude, but could not. The lady strictly kept her promise, and had the pleasure of seeing this poor _chimney-sweeper_ grow up a good, pious and intelligent man.

An Indian, being among his white neighbors, asked for a little tobacco to smoke, and one of them, having some loose in his pocket, gave him a handful. The day following the Indian came back, inquiring for the donor, saying he had found a quarter of a dollar among the tobacco. Being told that as it was given him he might as well keep it, he answered, pointing to his breast, "I got a good man, and a bad man here, and the good man say, 'It ain't yours; you must return it to its owner:' the bad man say, 'Why, he gave it to you, and it is your own now:' the good man say, 'That's not right; the tobacco is yours, not the money:' the bad man say, 'Never mind, you got it, go buy some dram:' the good man say, 'No, you must not do so:' so I don't know what to do, and I think I go to sleep; but the good man and the bad keep talking all night, and trouble me; and now I bring the money back I feel good."

Another Indian related, that, having got some money, he was, on his way home, tempted to stop at a tavern and buy some rum; "But," said he, pointing to his breast, "I have a good boy and a bad boy here; and the good boy say, 'John, don't you stop there: the bad one say, 'Poh, John, never mind, you love a good dram:' the good boy say, 'No, John, you know what a fool you made yourself when you got drunk there before, don't do so again.' When I come to the tavern, the bad boy say, 'Come, John, take one dram; it won't hurt you:' the good one say, 'No, John, if you take one dram, then you take another:' then I don't know what to do, and the good boy say, 'Run, John, hard as you can'--so I run away, and then, be sure, I feel very glad."

THE GOOD OLD INDIAN.

Captain James Smith relates, that he was taken prisoner by the Indians in the year 1755, and lived several years among them. At one time, he lived with an old man named Tecaughretanego, and his little son, Nunganny; they were quite alone, and there were not any inhabitants for many miles around. The old man was too lame to go out hunting; it was winter; they had no victuals; the snow was on the ground, and so frozen as to make a great noise when walked on, which frightened away the deer, and the captain could not shoot anything for some time.

He says: "After I had hunted two days without eating anything, and had very short allowance for some days before, I returned late in the evening, faint and weary. When I came into our hut, the old man asked what success. I told him not any. He asked me if I was not very hungry. I replied that the keen appetite seemed in some measure abated, but I was both faint and weary.

"He commanded his little son to bring me something to eat; and he brought me a kettle with some bones and broth. After eating a few mouthfuls my appetite violently returned, and I thought the victuals had a most agreeable relish, though it was only fox and wildcat bones, which lay about the ground, which the ravens and turkey-buzzards had picked; these Nunganny had collected, and boiled until the sinews that remained on them would strip off. I speedily finished my allowance, and when I had ended my _sweet_ repast the old man asked me how I felt. I told him I was much refreshed.

"He then handed me his pipe and pouch, and told me to take a good smoke. I did so. He then said he had something of importance to tell me, if I was now composed and ready to hear it. I told him I was ready to hear him. He said, 'The reason why I deferred my speech till now is because few men are in a right humor to hear good talk when they are very hungry, as they are then generally fretful and discomposed; but as you now appear to enjoy calmness and serenity of mind, I will communicate to you the thoughts of my heart, and those things I know to be true.

"'Brother, as you have lived with the white people, you have not had the same advantage of knowing that the great Being above feeds His people, and gives them their meat in due season, as we Indians have, who are frequently out of provisions, and yet are wonderfully supplied, and that so frequently that it is evidently the hand of the Great Spirit that does this; whereas, the white people have commonly large stocks of tame cattle, that they can kill when they please; and they also have barns and cribs, filled with grain, and therefore have not the same opportunity of seeing that they are supported by the Ruler of heaven and earth.

"'Brother, I know you are now afraid that we will all perish with hunger, but you have no just reason to fear this. I have been young, but I am now old. I have been frequently under the like circumstances that we now are, and some time or another in almost every year of my life; yet I have hitherto been supported, and my wants supplied in time of need.

"'Brother, the Good Spirit sometimes suffers us to be in want, in order to teach us our dependence on Him, and to let us know that we are to love and serve Him; likewise to know the worth of the favors that we receive, and also to make us thankful.

"'Brother, be assured that you will be supplied with food, and that just in the right time: but you must continue diligent in the use of means: go to sleep, and rise early in the morning, and go a hunting--be strong, and exert yourself, like a man, and the Great Spirit will direct your way.'"

The captain was thus encouraged to try again the next morning, though much disheartened and extremely hungry. He went a great distance before he could shoot anything; but at length he shot a buffalo cow; thus finding, as the good old Indian had said, that the Great Spirit had enabled him to provide for them just at the time of their distress.

FAITH OF A POOR BLIND WOMAN.

A person going to see a very aged woman of color, found a respectable-looking white girl sitting by her, reading the Bible for her. On inquiring of the old woman whether she could ever read, the visitor was answered, "Oh, yes, mistress, and I used to read a great deal in that book (pointing to a Bible very much worn that lay on the table), but now I am most blind, and the good girls read for me; but by and by, when I get on Zion's hill, I shall then see as well as anybody."

The poor of this world are often found rich in faith, and their confidence in the wisdom and goodness of a bountiful Creator, strong. How frequently, on visiting the abodes of the aged and the infirm, do we find this verified: one saying, when something is handed her, "The Lord has sent me this;"--another, "The Lord put it into my heart to be industrious, and lay up something for old age," etc.

AFRICAN SCHOOLS IN NEW YORK.

The Clarkson Association, for instructing adult females of color, commenced in the spring of 1811, and was conducted ten or twelve years by a number of young ladies of the Society of Friends. This was the first institution that came under the appellation of Sabbath-school in this city, where there are now so many.

It was taught on that day, because those people had generally more leisure to attend than on other days of the week; but these benevolent ladies soon appropriated also one afternoon in the middle of the week, for such as were at liberty to attend. There were a considerable number of aged women, as well as those in the prime of life, who learned to read, and rejoiced greatly in the acquisition. There were also schools kept by young men, for adults of color of the other sex.

"There is one remarkable fact connected with the effects of this excellent school upon the moral condition of the colored people. At every term of the Court of Sessions in this city, there are many colored persons convicted of crimes, and sent to the State prison or penitentiary. This school has now been in operation a number of years, and several thousands of scholars have received the benefits of a good thorough English education, _and but three persons who have been educated here have been convicted in our criminal courts_."

Several girls, who have received their education at this school, have gone with their parents to Hayti, where they will be capable of teaching schools, and may be of singular benefit. Two interesting letters, written in a very fair intelligible hand, by one of these girls about fourteen years old, have been received by E. J. Cox; extracts from which are here subjoined.

"REPUBLIC OF HAYTI, }
CITY OF ST. DOMINGO, Sept. 29, 1824. }

"DEAR TEACHER:--With pleasure I hasten to inform you of our safe
arrival in St. Domingo, after a passage of twenty-one days.
Mother and myself were very much afflicted with sea-sickness for
about nine or ten days, but after that we enjoyed a little of the
pleasures of our voyage.

"On our arrival, we were conducted by the captain of the port
to the governor's house, where we were received by him with all
the friendship that he could have received us with had we been
intimately acquainted for years. After informing him of our
intention of residing on the island, we were conducted to the
residence of the second general in command, where we had our names
registered.

"From thence we went to see the principal chapel in the city; to
give a description of which, it requires a far abler pen than
mine;" (she, however, mentions many particulars;) "but you cannot
form an idea of it, unless you could see for yourself. After
we had viewed the church throughout, we were conducted to our
lodging, at which place we are at present. Since we have been
here, my sampler and bench-cover have been seen by a number of
ladies and gentlemen, and have been very much admired by all who
have seen them.

"Dear teacher, notwithstanding we are hundreds of miles from each
other, I hope you will not think that I shall forget you, or those
kind friends (I mean the trustees), who have been so kind to me:
for had it not been for them and yourself, perhaps I never should
have known one half what I do, as respects my education; for
which, for them and you, to God I shall offer up my humble prayers
for your welfare, both in this life and that which is to come.

"I am, with respect, yours,

"SERENA M. BALDWIN."

THE INJURED AFRICANS.

FROM THE NEW YORK OBSERVER--1826.

In our paper of the 21st of January we inserted a communication from a correspondent giving an account of an aged colored woman who emigrated with her husband from New Orleans to this city last summer, bringing with her another colored woman whom she had rescued from slavery at the expense of _her little all_. The object of these poor people in coming to New York was simply to enjoy the privileges of the gospel without interruption.

A benevolent gentleman of our acquaintance whose feelings were much interested in the account which we published, and who has since repeatedly visited this interesting family, has put into our hands the following particulars of their history for publication. The name of the husband is _Reuben_, that of his wife, _Betsey_, and that of their companion, _Fanny_.

_Reuben Madison_, the husband, was born in Virginia, near Port Royal, about the year 1781. His parents, and all his connections in this country, were slaves. His father died when he was about seven years old. His mother is now living in Kentucky, enjoying freedom in her old age, through the filial regard of Reuben, who purchased her liberty for seventy dollars. She is seriously disposed, but not a professor of religion.

He has now eight brothers and sisters living in Frankfort, Franklin county, Kentucky, all slaves, and all, excepting one, members of a Baptist church in that place. About a year after his conversion Reuben was married to a slave, who had been kidnapped in Maryland and sold to a planter in his neighborhood. She was also hopefully pious.

While they lived together she became the mother of two children; but about four years after their marriage she and one of the children, aged eight months, were sold without his knowledge, and transported to a distant Spanish territory, and with so much secrecy that he had no opportunity even to bid her a last farewell. "This," said he, "was the severest trial of my life, a sense of sin only excepted. I mourned and cried, and would not be comforted.

"After several months, however, the hope of meeting her and my children again in the kingdom of God, when we should never be separated, together with a promise from my master that I should at some future time go to see her, in some measure allayed my grief, and permitted me to enjoy the consolations of religion." The other child is now a slave in Kentucky, though the father has often endeavored in vain to purchase his freedom.

About six years since, having hired his time of his master for five years previous, at 120 dollars a year, Reuben succeeded, by trafficking in rags, and in other ways, in collecting a sum sufficient for the purchase of his own freedom, for which he paid 700 dollars, and not only so, but he was enabled, with his surplus earnings, to build a brick house, and to provide it with convenient accommodations. By the dishonesty of his former master, however, all was taken from him.

Thus stripped of his property, he left Kentucky and went to New Orleans, that he might learn something from his wife, and, if possible, find and redeem her; but he only succeeded in gaining the painful intelligence that she was dead. He there formed an acquaintance with his present wife, whose former name was Betsey Bond, and they were soon married. The circumstances of her life were briefly these:

Betsey was born a slave, near Hobb's Hole, Essex county, Virginia, about 1763, and was married to a slave at about the age of twenty years. By him she had three children, one of which, together with her husband, died a few years after their marriage. Soon after their death, she was led to reflect on her lost state as a sinner, and after about seven months of deep anxiety was enabled, as she trusts, to resign herself into the hands of her Saviour, and experience those consolations which He deigns to grant to the broken-hearted penitent.

She gained the confidence and attachment of her mistress, who treated her with much kindness, and she was married to a pious servant of the family, where she remained about nine years. At the close of this period a planter from the vicinity of Natchez, coming to Alexandria in Virginia, where she then lived, for slaves, she was sold, and carried, with eight others, to his plantation, leaving her husband behind.

Her new master treated her with great severity, and she was compelled to labor almost incessantly every day of the week, Sabbath not excepted. With this man she lived nineteen years. He then died, and left his slaves, by will, to another planter, who also dying soon after, she was again sold and transported to New Orleans, where she arrived about the year 1812.

At the end of two years this master also died; and when his slaves were about to be sold, Betsey succeeded with some difficulty in hiring her time, and in a little more than a year, by washing and other labor, she acquired sufficient property to purchase her freedom, for which she paid 250 dollars. Her youngest son and his wife being also slaves in New Orleans, she hoped to obtain, by her industry and economy, money sufficient to purchase them also; but their master refused to part with them.

Several years after a large number of slaves were brought to New Orleans from Virginia, and were about to be offered for sale, and Fanny was among the number. Having accidentally become acquainted with her, previous to the sale, and finding her a sister in Christ, Betsey's feelings were deeply interested, and she resolved to purchase her, and to treat her not as a slave, but as a child and companion.

This determination she communicated to Fanny, and with the aid of a gentleman she succeeded in accomplishing her object. The price was 250 dollars. She paid 200, _her all_, and obtained a short credit for the remainder. Soon after this her present husband, coming to New Orleans, as before stated, they were married, and the payment for Fanny was then completed.

By their united industry they were soon able to build a comfortable house, in which they set apart a room for religious purposes. Here they assembled with others every Sabbath, for the worship of God. But being constantly exposed to disturbance in their worship, they felt a great desire to go to a free State, where they might enjoy religious privileges unmolested; where they could unite with Christian friends in social prayer and conversation, without a soldier with a drawn sword stationed at their door.

They fixed upon New York as the desired asylum; and having arranged their concerns, rented their house, and collected their effects, they engaged and paid their passage, which was seventy dollars, and sailed from New Orleans about the 12th of July, 1825, with pleasing anticipations, for a land of freedom and religious privileges.

They suffered much on the voyage, through the cruelty of the captain; being exposed without shelter, during the whole of the passage, either on deck or in the longboat. In consequence of this exposure, both of the women were taken sick; and in this condition they arrived at New York, and were landed on the wharf in a land of strangers, their money almost expended, and none to commiserate their sufferings.

After a few days, however, Reuben succeeded in obtaining a miserable cellar in Chapel Street, at sixty dollars annual rent, where he remained for some time, supporting the family in their sickness, by his labor as a shoemaker, and by the sale of some of his effects.

On his arrival at this port his first act was to grant entire freedom to Fanny, giving her liberty to live with him, or to go where she pleased. She chose to remain with him; and she assisted in the support of the family by washing and other labor, and nursed her mistress, who was evidently declining with the consumption, occasioned doubtless by the severity of her treatment on the passage from New Orleans.

Not being able to pay their rent in advance, owing to their sickness and other expenses, their landlord compelled them to quit their residence; and they have since been obliged to put up with still more miserable accommodations in a cellar in Elm Street.

They appeared to put their trust and confidence in God, and expressed their entire belief that all their trials were designed for their good. They seemed to be one in sentiment and feeling, and to manifest a spirituality of mind rarely to be found. Every little attention was most gratefully received, and the best of blessings were implored on him who bestowed it.

With some assistance from the benevolent, and with what they may receive from New Orleans for rent, it is believed they may be provided with a comfortable house, and be introduced to those privileges which they so ardently desire. No one of the family can read, though they are all desirous to learn, and from a little attention which their friends have given them it appears that they may be taught without difficulty.

It is an affecting thought, that the wrongs of this poor woman, which commenced at her birth, and were inflicted without interruption during the long years of slavery, still followed her on her passage to the land of freedom, and have been finally consummated in this city, the city of her hopes, her fancied asylum from the oppressor.

HENRY BOYD.

FROM THE ANTI-SLAVERY RECORD.

Henry Boyd was born a slave in Kentucky. Of imposing stature, well-knit muscles, and the countenance of one of nature's noblemen. At the age of eighteen he had so far won the confidence of his master, that he not only consented to sell him the right and title to his freedom, but gave him his own time to earn the money.

With a general pass from his master, Henry made his way to the Kenhawa salt works, celebrated as the place where Senator Ewing, of Ohio, chopped out his _education_ with his axe! And there, too, with his axe, did Henry Boyd chop out his _liberty_. By performing double labor, he got double wages. In the daytime he swung his axe upon the wood, and for half the night he tended the boiling salt-kettles, sleeping the other half by their side.

After having accumulated a sufficient sum, he returned to his master and paid it over for his freedom. He next applied himself to learn the trade of a carpenter and joiner. Such was his readiness to acquire the use of tools, that he soon qualified himself to receive the wages of a journeyman. In Kentucky prejudice does not forbid master mechanics to teach colored men their trades.

He now resolved to quit the dominions of slavery and try his fortunes in a free State, and accordingly directed his steps to the city of Cincinnati. The journey reduced his purse to the last _quarter of a dollar_; but, with his tools on his back and the consciousness of his ability to use them, he entered the city with a light heart. Little did he dream of the reception he was to meet. There was work enough to be done in his line, but no master workman would employ a colored man.

Day after day did Henry Boyd offer his services from shop to shop, but as often was he repelled, generally with insult, and once with a kick. At last, he found the shop of an Englishman, too recently arrived to understand the grand peculiarity of American feeling. This man put a plane into his hand, and asked him to make proof of his skill. "This is in bad order," said Boyd, and with that he gave the instrument certain nice professional knocks with the hammer, till he brought it to suit his practised eye.

"Enough," said the Englishman; "I see you can use tools." Boyd, however, proceeded to dress a board in a very able and workmanlike manner, while the journeymen from a long line of benches gathered around with looks that bespoke a deep personal interest in the matter. "You may go to work," said the master of the shop, right glad to employ so good a workman. The words had no sooner left his mouth than his American journeymen, unbuttoning their aprons, called, as one man, for the settlement of their wages.

"What! what!" said the amazed Englishman, "what does this mean?" "It means that we will not work with a _nigger_," replied the journeymen. "But he is a first-rate workman." "But we won't stay in the same shop with a _nigger_; we are not in the habit of working with _niggers_." "Then I will build a shanty outside, and he shall work in that." "No, no; we won't work for a _boss_ who employs _niggers_. Pay us up, and we'll be off." The poor master of the shop turned with a despairing look to Boyd--"You see how it is, my friend; my workmen will all leave me. I am sorry for it, but I can't hire you."

Even at this repulse our adventurer did not despair. There might still be mechanics in the outskirts of the city who had too few journeymen to be bound by their prejudices. His quarter of a dollar had long since disappeared, but, by carrying a traveller's trunk or turning his hand to any chance job, he contrived to exist till he had made application to every carpenter and joiner in the city and its suburbs. _Not one would employ him._ By this time, the iron of prejudice, more galling than anything he had ever known of slavery, had entered his soul.

He walked down to the river's bank below the city, and throwing himself upon the ground, gave way to an agony of despair. He had found himself the object of universal contempt; his plans were all frustrated, his hopes dashed, and his dear-bought freedom made of no effect! By such trials, weak minds are prostrated in abject and slavish servility, and stronger ones are made the enemies and depredators of society; it is only the highest class of moral heroes that come off like gold from the furnace.

Of this class, however, was Henry Boyd. Recovering from his dejection, he surveyed the brawny muscles that strung his Herculean frame. A new design rushed into his mind, and new resolution filled his heart. He sprang upon his feet and walked firmly and rapidly towards the city, doubtless with aspirations that might have suited the words of the poet:

"Thy spirit, _Independence_, let me share,
Lord of the lion heart and eagle eye."