Years went by, bringing changes, bringing to Mou-Setse grey hairs,
taking from him his fresh youth, and adding to his face some anxious
lines. But the years brought greater changes than the light hands they
lay upon head and brow, to his black brothers and sisters in America.
The brave souls who had fought through thick and thin for the freedom of
the slaves, who had gone through danger and hardship almost at the peril
of their lives in this great cause, had won a noble victory. America,
by setting free her black brethren, had also removed from herself a most
grievous curse.
The black men were free, and Mou-Setse had removed from the little town
where he had first settled to the larger and more flourishing one of St
Louis. He had succeeded as a merchant, and was now a rich man. His
love for his brethren had also increased with years. He did much to
help them. He was reverenced and loved by all who knew him, and that
was saying no little, for there was scarcely a black man in the States
who did not know Mou-Setse. But the dearly-longed-for and unfulfilled
purpose was still discernible on his face, and oftener than ever would
he repair to the church to pray.
"I specs de dere Lord will be good to me," he would say; "de dere Lord
hab patience wid me. I told de Lord dat I would have great patience wid
Him. I will wait His good leisure. I believe as I will see my people
again."
Mou-Setse had for long years now added work to his prayers, leaving no
stone unturned to find or obtain some tidings of the father and mother
and brothers and sister from whom he had been so cruelly torn. But all
his efforts had been as yet in vain, no description even resembling them
had ever reached his ears.
His black friends told him that his father and mother had either never
reached America or had long been dead. But Mou-Setse would never
believe these evil reports, his strong faith that at least some of his
own would be restored to him, that the work and labour of his life would
not be in vain, never deserted him.
"I tole de Lord dat I would have great patience," he would reply to
those who begged of him to give up so hopeless a search, and doubtless
patience was doing its perfect work, for the end for which he so longed
was at hand.