Part 10

His thoughts were continually on the stretch, and this, it was supposed, at length occasioned a fever, which seized him when his voyage was nearly at an end. His malady increasing, it was attended with delirium, which left him only a few lucid intervals. In these, his mind always shone out full of religious hope and patient resignation to the will of God.

In one of these intervals, he told Mr. Graham, a fellow-passenger with whom he was most intimate, that he began to think he should be called away before he had an opportunity to tell his mother of the mercies of God toward him, and of his obligations to the Sierra Leone Company. He then desired him to write his will, which he began in the presence of Captain Wooles and James Cato, a servant that attended Naimbanna.

When Mr. Graham had written a considerable part, as particularly directed, manifesting the feelings and generosity of his heart, Naimbanna complained of fatigue, and said he would finish it after he had taken a little rest. But his fever came on with increased violence, and his delirium scarcely ever left him afterward.

The night after, the vessel, though close to the African coast, durst not attempt to land, as the wind was contrary, and there was danger of running on the Scarries bank. Next morning, though, the wind continued contrary, Mr. Graham went off to the settlement in an open boat to procure medical aid. But when the physician came on board, Naimbanna was just alive; and in that state he was carried to the settlement, the next morning, July 17th, 1793, when the ship came to anchor.

On the first account of his illness, an express was sent to inform his friends at Robanna; and soon after he was landed, his mother, brothers, sisters, and relatives came to the settlement. The distracted looks of his mother, and the wildness of his sisters' grief, affected everyone. His cousin Henry, an ingenuous youth, who stood among them, attracted the attention of all by the solemn sorrow of his countenance, which seemed to discover a heart full of tenderness and woe. In the meantime, the dying youth appeared every moment drawing nearer the close of life.

His voice failing more and more, the little he said was with difficulty understood. Once or twice, those who stood around him caught hold of something like our Saviour's words: "Many are called, but few chosen." About an hour before he died, his voice wholly failed. He was awhile restless and uneasy, till, turning his head on his pillow, he found an easier posture, and lay perfectly quiet.

About seven in the evening of the day on which he was brought on shore, he expired without a groan. When his mother and other relatives found his breath was gone, their shrieks and agonizing cries were distressing beyond measure. Instantly, in a kind of frantic madness, they snatched up his body, hurried it into a canoe, and went off with it to Robanna. Some of the gentlemen of the factory immediately followed in boats, with a coffin.

When the corpse was laid decently into it, Mr. Horne, the clergyman, read the funeral service over it, amid a number of people, and finished with an extempore prayer. The ceremony was conducted with so much solemnity, and performed in so affecting a manner, that the impression was communicated throughout the whole crowd. They drew closer and closer, as Mr. Horne continued to speak; and though they understood not a syllable of what he said, they listened to him with great attention, and bore witness, with every mark of sorrow, to the powers of sympathy.

After the ceremony was over, the gentlemen of the factory retired to their boats, leaving the corpse, as his friend desired, to be buried according to the custom of the country.

ZILPAH MONTJOY.

In the year 1821, died, in the city of New York, an aged woman of color, named Zilpah Montjoy; whose pious circumspect life rendered her an object of peculiar interest to many of her acquaintances; to some of these, whose friendly notice she had experienced, she more than once related the following circumstance:--

Being a slave, inured to hard labor, she was brought up in such extreme ignorance as to have no idea that she was an accountable being--that there was a future state--not even that death was universal, until the sixteenth year of her age, when a girl of her own color dying in the neighborhood, she was permitted to attend the funeral.

The minister's text was, "Man that is born of a woman is of few days and full of trouble: he cometh forth like a flower, and is cut down: he fleeth also as a shadow, and continueth not!" by which and subsequent remarks, she understood that all were to die; that there was a state of existence after death, a preparation for which was necessary while here.

She was much affected, and returned home in great agitation. Revolving these things in her mind for several days, she at length asked her mistress whether she had understood right, that all must die. The reply was, "Go to your work." She continued thus exercised for a considerable time, earnestly desiring to know what she had to do, but had no one to give her instruction.

In this tried state, the Lord was pleased to reveal Himself, and impress on her untaught mind a belief in an omnipotent and omniscient Being, and that His law was written on the heart. Thus, gradually becoming calm and settled, her confidence was made strong in Him, who, hiding His counsels from the wise and prudent in their own eyes, "hath revealed them unto babes." And it is believed she was from that time guarded and careful in her conduct.

She married, and had two daughters, one of whom was taken at an early age, and placed at so great a distance from her that she never saw her after. The other died when about grown, and being also bereaved of her husband, she was very lonely. But under these trials she appears to have been sustained, as was David when he could say, "Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me."

She was a member of the Methodist Church, and a diligent attender of their meetings as long as her strength permitted. When she was (as near as can be ascertained) about sixty-eight years old, the Clarkson Association for teaching colored women to read and write was established.

And when she received the information, she offered herself as a scholar, but the teachers endeavored to dissuade her, telling her she was too old to begin, as she did not know a letter, and her sight was so impaired as to require two pairs of spectacles; she however urged admittance, stating that her only motive was a desire to be able to read the Bible, and she believed "the Lord would help her," adding, "We are never too old to do good."

And being admitted, she was very diligent in her attendance, and by great perseverance became able to read a little in the New Testament; and one with large print being given her, she prized it very highly, and would frequently open it and read one of the chapters contained in Christ's sermon on the mount, calling it "the blessed chapter."

But notwithstanding her great desire to learn, she did not allow her studies to interfere with her religious engagements; and the time for meeting with her class being fixed on one of the afternoons that the school was taught, it was inconvenient to her; but as the school commenced at three o'clock, and the meeting at four, the hour between she generally spent at the school, staying as long as it would do, and then going as quickly as she could, to be punctual to the time. Sometimes she has been seen running, when she heard the clock strike and found herself a little too late.

She was industrious and frugal, but liberated late in life, she barely procured a subsistence; and for the last two or three years, being nearly past labor, she was dependent on the benevolence of others: but at no time, however destitute and tried, did she lose her confidence in the power of Him "who provideth for the raven his food," often saying at such seasons, "The Lord has been my helper, and I trust in Him." And when any favor was conferred on her, she feelingly expressed her gratitude, yet mostly with reference to the Great Supreme, for giving her friends so kind.

At a certain time, a friend, being unusually thoughtful about her, went to see how she was situated, taking with her a loaf of bread. She found her unable to go out, and without provision; and querying with her, "Zilpah, art thou here alone?" she replied, "No, I am never alone; my Master is with me. When I awake in the night season he talks with me. He has promised to take care of me, and He has done it; He has now sent me that loaf of bread." At another time, she said to a person who visited her, "How good the Lord is; I have always something to eat, for if I take my last morsel, some one comes and brings me more before I want again."

Her understanding failed, so that for several weeks before her death she knew very little; but her conversation was innocent, sometimes saying, "If it is the Lord's will to take me, I am willing to go, but I must wait His time." And He was pleased to release her, after a short confinement, without any apparent disease but the decline of nature, about the seventy-ninth year of her age.

BELINDA LUCAS.

A woman of color, living in Chrystie street, New York, is now, 1825, about one hundred years old. She retains her faculties remarkably well, and she recently gave the following account of herself: "When I was a small child in Africa, being one day at play in the woods, some people came along; one of whom catched me, and throwing me over his shoulder, ran away with me. After he had gone some distance, he put me down and whipped me to make me run.

"When we came to the water, they put me into the ship and carried me to Antigua. Soon after, the captain of a vessel from New York, taking a liking to me, bought me, and brought me here. I was then so little, that I slept sometimes at my mistress's feet. I think there was only one house for worship in the city then; and I remember very well that up Broadway there were only a few small houses; and where the college (in Park Place) stands it was woods.

"I was sold several times, married twice, and had one child that died young. I was baptized in St. Paul's church, not long after it was built; and when I was about forty years old, I bought my freedom for twenty pounds. Not long after I married my last husband, I paid for his freedom, and we went to Charleston. After living there about seven years, he died; and knowing I had many friends and acquaintances in New York, I came back.

"I brought a hundred dollars with me, which I put into the church stock. From that I have received seven dollars every year, and with it I buy my winter firewood. By working early and late, besides my day's work, I earned money, and got a life lease of this spot of ground, and built this house; and in this room" (which is on the first floor) "I have lived many years.

"The upper part I rent; but sometimes the people have been poor, and could not pay me; then I lost it; but these people pay me very well. I have been asked many times to sell it, but I think it is much better for me to stay quietly here than to be moving about: and besides, I let Mr. ---- have fifty dollars, and when he failed, I lost it; and the bad folks have several times taken money out of my chest; and I was afraid, if I did sell, I should lose that also, and then I should be very bad off.

"As I have no relation of my own, when I am gone, and don't want these things any more, they are to be divided among my husband's folks." A person present told her she should have a writing drawn, to tell how they should be divided; saying, "Perhaps they will quarrel about it." She said, "I have told them if they did, them that quarrelled must not have anything."

When asked if she could read, she answered, "Yes; when I was young I learned to spell a little, but I did not know how to put the words together, till I went to the Clarkson school. There I learned to read; and though I can't read all the hard words in the Bible, I can read Matthew and John very well." A representation of the crucifixion of Christ hanging over the chimney-piece, she pointed to it, and explained it very intelligibly, remarking that, "To Mary, who was kneeling near the cross, it was said, 'Woman, behold thy Son,' and to one of those standing by, 'Behold thy Mother.'"

This representation appeared to afford her much interest in contemplating it, though she looked only to the Lord for consolation, and several times, while giving this account, testified of His goodness and mercy to her; saying, "It is the Lord's will that I should be so comfortably provided for. When I was younger, and worked so steadily, the people used to say, 'Belinda, what do you work so hard for, and lay up money? you have no children to take it when you are gone.'

"I did not know then, but the Lord knew that I was to live a great while, and He put it into my heart to do so, and now I have plenty, and trouble nobody for a living. I am unwell this morning, but by and by, when I feel better, I intend to clean up. I used to live very snug and comfortable; I can't get anybody now to put up my things for me so well as I can do it for myself." Her bed had curtains, and appeared to have comfortable covering on it. She had a looking-glass, an arm-chair, a carpet on her floor, and other necessary furniture.

She further said, "When I was able, I went often to see the sick, and the suffering poor, and do something for them, and I sometimes prayed by their bedside;" and added, "I believe the Lord heard my prayers." Placing her hands in an attitude of supplication, and turning her eyes upward, "I often pray now, and I leave it to Him, and He gives me what I pray for. If He thinks it best for me to live longer yet, I am willing to stay; and if He thinks best to take me away, I am ready to go."

On being asked how old she was, she replied, "When Peter Williams was going to Hayti, and he came to see me and bid me farewell, he said, 'Belinda, I have been calculating your age, as near as I can from circumstances, and I believe you are about a hundred years old.' I thought I was older, but I suppose he must be correct.

"I used to work for the rich folks, and they seemed to love me, and treated me very kindly. Mrs. T----, and Mrs. H----, and many others, have been to see me a great many times. Mr. Livingston, the lawyer, who died at Washington, you remember--with his first wife's father, Mr. Kittletas, I lived, and of him I bought my freedom. And when I went to Mr. Livingston's, he would say, 'Why, Belinda, you have a long life of it here.' I would say, 'Yes, master, the Lord knows, but I don't, why I stay so long'--but, dear man, he is gone!"

On being asked why she lived alone, she said, "If I have somebody with me, they will want other company, and that will make more noise than I like. I love to be still; then I can think. And when I am sick, the people up stairs are kind to me, and do what little I want done."

When speaking of reading, she said, "I met with a bad accident lately; I dropped my spectacles in the fire, and it spoiled them: when I can get into the Bowery, to Mr. ----'s store, I can get another pair; but nobody can get them for me--they would not know how to suit my eyes--and then I always pay cash for what I get--I have found it the best way. In all my life long, there has never anybody had the scratch of a pen against me. I have been saving too: them plates there" (pointing to her closet), "I brought them with me from Charleston before Washington's war."

In this unpolished narrative, we see the benefit of acquiring steady habits in early life--of honest, persevering industry--and frugality in the use of what was so obtained. From the one hundred dollars put into church stock, she has in fifty years received three hundred and fifty dollars; and in such a way as to be particularly useful to her. Her pious care of the sick; her quiet, decent, and comely way of living; and her exertions in learning to read, even at the advanced age of eighty years, are also worthy of particular notice.

GUSTAVUS VASSA.

TAKEN FROM HIS NARRATIVE, WRITTEN ABOUT THE YEAR 1787.

"I offer here neither the history of a saint, a hero, nor a tyrant. I believe there are few events in my life, which have not happened to many; but when I compare my lot with that of many of my countrymen, I acknowledge the mercies of Providence in the occurrences that have taken place.

"That part of Africa known by the name of Guinea, to which the trade for slaves is carried on, extends along the coast above 3,400 miles, from Senegal to Angola, and includes a variety of kingdoms. The most considerable of these is Benin, as it respects its extent, wealth, and richness of soil. It is bounded on the sea 170 miles, and its interior seems only terminated by the empire of Abyssinia, near 1,500 miles from its first boundaries.

"In one of the most remote and fertile provinces of this kingdom I was born, in the year 1745. As our country is one where nature is prodigal of her favors, our wants, which are few, are easily supplied. All our industry is turned to the improvement of those blessings, and we are habituated to labor from our early years; and by this means we have no beggars.

"Our houses never exceed one story, and are built of wood, thatched with reeds, and the floors are generally covered with mats. The dress of both sexes consists of a long piece of calico or muslin, wrapped loosely round the body; our beds are also covered with the same kind of cloth; this the women make when they are not engaged in labor with the men. Our tillage is in a large common, and all the people resort thither in a body and unite in the labor.

"My father being a man of rank, had a numerous family; his children consisted of one daughter, and a number of sons, of which I was the youngest. As I generally attended my mother, she took great pains in forming my mind, and training me to exercise. In this way, I grew up to about the eleventh year of my age, when an end was put to my happiness in the following manner:

"One day, when all our people were gone to their work, and only my dear sister and myself were left to watch the house, two men and a woman came, and seizing us both, stopped our mouths that we should not make a noise, and ran off with us into the woods, where they tied our hands, and took us some distance, to a small house, where we stayed that night.

"The next morning, after keeping in the woods some distance, we came to an opening, where we saw some people at work, and I began to cry for assistance; but this made them tie us faster, and again stop our mouths; and they put me into a sack until we had got out of sight of these people. When they offered us food we could not eat. Often bathing each other in tears, our only respite was sleep; but alas! even the privilege of weeping together was soon denied us. While enclosed in each other's arms we were torn asunder, and I was left in a state of distress not to be described.

"After travelling a great distance, suffering many hardships, and being sold several times, one evening my dear sister was brought to the same house. We were both so overcome that we could not speak for some time, but clung to each other and wept. And when the people were told that we were brother and sister, they indulged us with being together; and one of the men at night lay between us, and allowed us to hold each other's hand across him.

"This comfort, small as it may appear to some, was not so to us: but it was of short duration; when morning came, we were again separated, and I never saw her more. I remember the happiness of our childish sports, the indulgence of maternal affection; and fear that her lot would be still harder than mine, fixed her image so indelibly on my mind, that neither prosperity nor adversity has ever erased it.

"I once attempted to run away; but when I had got into the woods, and night came on, I became alarmed with the idea of being devoured by wild beasts, and with trembling steps, and a sad heart, I returned to my master's house, and laid down in his fireplace, where I was found in the morning. Being closely reprimanded by my master, he ordered me to be taken care of, and I was soon sold again. I then travelled through a very fertile country, where I saw cocoa-nuts and sugar-cane.

"All the people I had hitherto seen, resembled my own; and having learned a little of several languages, I could understand them pretty well; but now, after six or seven months had passed away, from the time I was kidnapped, I arrived at the sea-coast, and I beheld that element which before I had no idea of. It also made me acquainted with such cruelties as I can never reflect upon but with horror. The first object that met my sight was a _slave ship_ riding at anchor, _waiting for her cargo_!

"When I was taken on board, being roughly handled and closely examined by these men, whose complexion and language differed so much from any I had seen or heard before, I apprehended I had got into a world of bad spirits, which so overcame me that I fainted and fell. When I came to, their horrible looks and red faces frightened me again exceedingly. But I had not time to think much about it, before I was, with many of my poor country people, put under deck in a loathsome and horrible place. In this situation we wished for death, and sometimes refused to eat, and for this we were beaten.

"After enduring more hardships than I can relate, we arrived at Barbadoes, in the West Indies. When taken on shore, we were put into a pen like so many beasts, and thence sold and separated--husbands and wives, parents and children, brothers and sisters, without any distinction. Their cries excited some compassion in the hearts of those who were capable of feeling, but others seemed to feel no remorse, though the scene was so affecting.

"I, with some others, was sent to America: when we arrived in Virginia, we were also sold and separated. Not long after, Captain Pascal, coming to my master's, purchased me, and sent me on board his ship, called the Industrious Bee. I had not yet learned much of the English language, so I could not understand their conversation; and some of them made me believe I was going home to Africa. This pleased me very much, and the kind treatment I received made me happy; but when we came in sight of England, I found they had deceived me. It was on board this ship I received the name of Gustavus Vassa.

"Having often seen my master, and a lad named Richard Baker, who was very kind to me, reading in books, I had a desire to do so, that I might find out how all things had a beginning. For that purpose, I often took a book, talked to it, and then placed it to my ear to hear what it would say; but when I found it remained silent, I was much concerned.

"The summer of 1757, I was taken by a press-gang, and carried on board a man-of-war. After passing about a year in this service, on the coast of France and in America, on my return to England, I received much kindness, and was sent to school, where I learned to read and write. My master receiving the office of lieutenant on board one of those ships, took me with him up the Mediterranean. My desire for learning induced some of my shipmates to instruct me, so that I could read the Bible; and one of them, a sober man, explained many passages to me.

"As I had now served my master faithfully several years, and his kindness had given me hopes that he would grant my freedom when we arrived in England, I ventured to tell him so; but he was offended, for he had determined on sending me to the West Indies. Accordingly, at the close of the year 1762, finding a vessel bound thither, he took me on board, and gave me in charge of the captain.