FURTHER ACCOUNT OF THE INDIANS--I ARRIVE AT MY FATHER'S FARM.
"What fancied zone can circumscribe the soul,
Who, conscious of the source from whence she springs,
By Reason's light, or Resolution's wings,
Spite of her frail companion, dauntless goes
O'er Libya's deserts, and through Zembla's snows?
She bids each slumb'ring energy awake,--
Another touch, another temper take;
Suspends th' inferior laws that rule o'er clay.
The stubborn elements confess her sway;
Man's little wants his low desires refine,
And raise the mortal to a height divine."
Notwithstanding the darkness in which my friend Pecoe had been brought
up, I was impressed with the notion that his soul was sufficiently
alive to receive the great truths of Christianity. I therefore
resolved again to introduce the subject, and make an effort to engross
his attention. I commenced by impressing on his mind that my
countrymen were a race acknowledged to be inferior to none other, and
that they worshipped only One Great Spirit, the Maker of the heavens
and the earth, together with all things visible and invisible. He
surprised me by admitting that these things had engaged much of his
attention, and that his mind was now made up on the question; his
conviction being that the heavens and the earth had existed from
eternity, and would continue the same to eternity.
I explained to him that nothing endured for ever but the power of God;
that all things were constantly undergoing a process of change; that
the globe we inhabited had a beginning, and, consequently, like
inferior bodies, would have an end; that God permitted the dissolution
of one body, and the birth of another, at periods appointed, to the end
that the whole of his designs might arrive at perfection, and no
absolute loss be sustained. Pecoe heard me out with great patience,
then shook his head, and enquired how it came that my father should
know better than his? When, however, I spoke of the existence of the
soul in another and better world, and endeavoured to illustrate that
certainty by saying, in the dissolution of bodies nothing perished but
their forms, and that the soul when it abdicated its decaying vessel,
the body, was translated to another, and a purer state of existence, he
evidently looked on me as being insane.
[Sidenote: Attempts at conversion]
I was disappointed,--was vexed at my inability to awaken him to a sense
of what all mankind, more or less, in some form, have acknowledged,
namely, a future state of existence. I now urged that all human beings
were sensible of relations not subject to the senses, and therefore
possessed sensibilities distinct from the body. That they could
compare, and therefore had judgment; that they retained, and therefore
have memory; that they possessed freedom of choice, and therefore have
will. I then said, if to these we add instinct, there are five
faculties of the soul; adding, Reason compares those ideas immediately
transmitted to the memory; imagination is the same faculty exercised on
the same objects differently combined, having no similitude in nature.
"These," replied Pecoe, "are all your own thoughts."
Having from early infancy been accustomed, both morning and evening, to
offer up my prayers to God, and having, when in the wilds of nature,
found in this practice much solace, I did not fail while with the
Indians to continue the custom; yet none of the people had hitherto
taken any notice of my devotion. At length Pecoe inquired my motives,
asking what I expected to gain by the practice.
I replied, that we had all daily wants, and that in the morning I
petitioned the Great Spirit--my God---to supply them, and that in the
evening I returned thanks for the protection and supplies I had
received. I further explained, that prayer was the voice of sin to Him
who alone can pardon it; that it was the petition of poverty, the
prostration of humility, the confidence of trust, the feeling of
helplessness, and the compunctions of the soul. All this I put in the
most simple form of language, and I have reason to think that he fully
understood the feeling I endeavoured to convey.
Notwithstanding, he asked me whether I had not food enough to eat, and
what it was the Evil Spirit had made me do that troubled me so much?
[Sidenote: Conversation on prayer]
In vain did I labour to impress his mind with a sense of the necessity
there is for all to worship the Giver of life and all other blessings,
and that by intreating the One God to protect us, the value of his
gifts was enhanced, and that there was an inexpressible delight in
committing ourselves to the care and guidance of one who is infinitely
able to protect us in the right path.
"The Spirit," said he, "is good, and will do nothing wrong--he will not
listen to what you tell him."
I replied by saying that we could not tell God of anything that he did
not already know, and that prayer and thanksgiving were due from us all
to one so beneficent. I then explained to him that his condition of
darkness in religious matters was once the condition of all mankind,
and that it was only by reflection, and the intercommunication of
minds, that the little light our forefathers possessed was obtained,
until at length God sent his only Son to reveal the truth to us. I
then repeated the Lord's Prayer, and promised to teach it to him in his
own language if he would use it.
He replied that he must have time to consider of it. A few days after
he requested that I would not talk in that way any more to him, adding,
that they were all my own sayings, meaning they were things of my own
invention.
"You have consulted your father," said I. He acknowledged that he had,
laughing at the same time, as if I had been a subject of their
ridicule. Up to that moment I had flattered myself that I should have
been spiritually of service to him, and perhaps through him, to more of
his race. His father, however, was an enemy to civilized man, and
inimical to innovations of every kind.
It appeared from a traditional story, which Pecoe subsequently related
me, that at some former period these people had been visited by a party
of missionaries, the particulars of which I an induced to give, as a
caution to gentlemen who labour in such arduous undertakings as those
of converting heathens to Christianity.
"Some white men," said Pecoe, "came here a long time since, and brought
strange talk about the Great Spirit and his Son, (that is, about our
blessed Saviour), to which our people agreed to listen, upon condition,
that every time they attended they should receive a bottle of rum.
They did attend," continued Pecoe, "but in a short time the white men
wanted them to come and listen for nothing, and so broke their
contract." Scrupulously punctual to their own engagements, the
Indians, immediately on the withholding of the rum, took a prejudice
against the missionaries, which no subsequent conduct on the part of
the latter could remove, or perhaps will ever efface from the memory of
the former. Thus has a stumblingblock been placed in the way of all
future adventurers among them in the cause of Christianity. As soon as
I was made acquainted with these particulars, I resolved to undertake
the defence of the missionaries' conduct, and at least, lessen the
prejudice against them. With this view, I availed myself of the first
large assemblage of the natives, and opened the subject by inquiring
how long it was since the white men had visited them, which way they
came, and lastly, by what road they returned? suggesting, that perhaps
the same road might lead me to a European colony, where I might have a
chance of hearing from my friends.
[Sidenote: Defence of the missionaries]
An aged Indian replied to these inquiries, adding, that he had no great
opinion of the white men who came there; and on asking how they had
conducted themselves, he related the story in nearly the same words as
I had heard it from Pecoe. I then explained the good intentions of the
persons who subscribed money to spread the truths of the gospel, and
the great sacrifices made by those who consented to give up the charms
of civilized life for the good of the poor unenlightened heathen. I
then went on to say, that with respect to the presents of rum, it was
natural, after the missionaries had taken the trouble to study their
language, and to travel so far, to adopt any means to secure a hearing,
without which, no good could possibly accrue to the objects of their
mission. Although, I continued, they might at first hold out some
inducement to be heard, yet it was unreasonable to expect that persons
so far away from home and their resources could continue to find the
means of making repeated presents in order to tempt persons to their
own good.
When I had finished, some of the Indians laughed, others shook their
heads, indicating disapprobation, and a hint that I had better be
silent. Upon the whole, though I pushed the matter somewhat strongly,
I failed in making any impression on the auditors.
With regard to natural objects, I question if there be a more acute and
observing people in the whole world; yet they are wholly a people of
feelings, being evidently deficient in intellect. Their imagination
and understanding are both at a low ebb, as I could never extend their
ideas beyond their own path of life. At times I gave Pecoe credit for
possessing a more lively imagination than others of his tribe; but as I
knew more of him, this impression died away. In the highly cultivated
walks of society, manhood is the period when the feelings are
predominant. Imagination prevails in youth, and the understanding in
old age. These people are in the middle stage of progress; and as they
possess the purest moral notions of right and wrong, cannot be
incapable of receiving the truths of revealed religion. The highest
degree of moral elevation can only be attained by carefully cherishing
the more benevolent and kindlier feelings of nature; that is, by
cultivating the good passions, and throwing into disuse the bad ones.
The Indians with whom I lived, effected these objects in a very high
degree; for I never saw an instance of any violent exhibition of temper
among them, and it was always a matter of astonishment to me to see how
exceeding tractable their children were without severity on the part of
the parents.
In the moral sense of the word, they were good; and if they had been
Christians, would have been deemed examples for more refined nations.
"A good man, and an angel! these between,
How thin the barrier? What divides their fate?
Perhaps a moment, or perhaps a year;
Or, if an age, it is a moment still."
The following anecdote will not only illustrate the kind feelings of
the Indian's heart, but also exhibit his delicacy in bestowing a
favour. I had for some time been uneasy at not being able to
contribute, by my exertions, a fair share towards the provisions of the
common stock of those with whom I resided; and this uneasiness was
frequently expressed to Pecoe, the principal difficulty being the want
of a canoe--for these vessels were not constructed in general to carry
more than one person; I was thus precluded from sharing in the daily
excursions on the water.
[Sidenote: Gift of a canoe]
Pecoe, as I have said, knew that I felt this want, and one morning
surprised and delighted me, after a walk in the woods, where he pointed
out the silk cotton tree as the material out of which they made canoes.
"Why," exclaimed he, as he took a turn towards an inlet of the great
river, "here is a canoe already made for you; come, help me to launch
it, and let us see how it fits you when afloat." I had recently, for
several long intervals, missed him, and having, when inquiring the
cause of his absence, received equivocal replies, I thought it was
occasioned by some duty connected with his family, and had in
consequence forborne to notice it again. He had, however, been in the
wood, fashioning a canoe for my use, being the most valuable present he
could, at that juncture, have made me; and the manner in which he
conducted the matter, considerably enhanced its value. I was now as
rich in property as any of the natives, whose ambition seldom soars
beyond the possession of a canoe and a stock of hunting and fishing
implements, which my friend Pecoe did not forget to provide with the
canoe.
My health being perfectly restored, I now joined in all the sports
followed by the natives, having previously, at Pecoe's earnest
solicitation, learned to swim. Time ran on smoothly, the morning
invited me to the woods (my natural home) to hunt for game.
"On a sweet shining morning, thus drawn out,
It seem'd what man was made for, to look round
And trace the full brook, that, with clamorous route,
O'er fallen trees and roots, black curling, wound
Through glens, with wild brakes scatter'd all about."
The days did not linger in their progress, nor did night arrive too
soon, the changes being all attended with enjoyments.
"Night bringeth sleep
To the forest deep,
The forest bird to its nest,
To care, bright hours,
And dreams of flowers,
And that balm to the weary--rest."
Discontent is man's great enemy. I believe that, constitutionally, I
was fitted to enjoy any station to which the Almighty, in his wisdom,
might call me; yet even contentment may be carried to an extreme, and
degenerate into apathy, or the want of a healthful spirit into
indolence.
Soft leisure hath her charms, and the bliss of her votaries is to bask
in summer rays through the day under the greenwood tree; but however
soothing or pleasant this may be to the reflective mind, the common
duties of life should not be neglected. I had parents, relations, and
friends, all of whom had more or less been rendered unhappy by my loss
in the woods; and I now became impressed with a notion that I had not
been sufficiently active in using means for my restoration.
I had indeed escaped the mazes of the forest by the inundation--an
event in which the hand of Providence was conspicuous; for had not the
flood-gates of the firmament been opened, I might still have remained
in my forest prison. I now asked myself why I did not stir and exert
all the energies the same Providence had bestowed on me, to reach the
nearest European colony and seek advice as to the proper mode of
proceeding to discover the home of my parents. All my moments of
leisure were now filled up with self-reproaches. The deep solitude of
the woods, I thought, had enchanted me, and now the wild charm of a
free and roving life was weaning me from duty. These were errors
which, I thought, demanded a rigid retribution; yet at intervals I was
in no want of excuses to extenuate my conduct. I reflected on the
extraordinary flexibility of our nature, which accommodates and adapts
itself to all circumstances; and, that the reality of our existence is
the present moment, the exigencies of which are inimical to prudent
resolutions.
Of man's generic character there is much yet to be written; the change
of climate, food, scenery, society, together with a thousand contingent
circumstances that follow in their train, all produce effects
unappreciable by those whose lives have been bounded by one circle. Of
all animals, man best endures the changes of food and climate. It
therefore follows that his physical construction is more changeable;
but in proportion as the body undergoes a change, and adapts itself to
the circumstances of its situation, so will the feelings, temper, and
mind also undergo some change, and more or less affect the character of
the individual.
[Sidenote: Forgetfulness of home]
In reference to my own case, and the experience derived from it, this
is the best solution I can give of the passive submission with which I
accommodated myself to the manner of life into which my waywardness had
cast me. If we pass from man to the influence of climate on other
animals, the effect on dogs is very remarkable. In Kamtschatka,
instead of the dog being faithful and attached to his master, he is
full of deceit and treachery; he does not bark in the hot parts of
Africa, nor in the extreme cold countries of the north; in Greenland he
loses his fitness for hunting and his character for docility. If this
subject were pursued, it might be added that the African slaves, when
removed from their own country to the West Indies, undergo a marked
change of character. The American settlers too, have changed in
character since their first settlement in that country, as also have
the Anglo-New Hollanders. The temperate zones appear to be the most
favoured regions for the full development of the human powers, whether
physical or moral, especially of the principle of sympathy, that
vicegerent of the divine benevolence in our world, which is capable of
binding up all the wounds that sin and death have introduced into it.
As we are all, however, too much swayed by the considerations of
pleasure and pain, it is probable, that had I been cast into regions
subject to a rigorous winter, I should have been more anxious to have
escaped from the forest. Perpetual summer, however, beguiled me from
my resolution, and being unprovided with a defence against ease and
indolence, years passed on while I was only dreaming of home and
friends.
The hand of Providence, notwithstanding, continued over me, and in a
miraculous manner took me from savage life.
The sun's departing red rays were shining on the surface of the river,
as Pecoe, myself, and three other youths were hastening in our canoes
to reach home before night should set in, when I heard the stroke of
oars, that indicated the approach of a boat's crew. I have before said
that an inexplicable feeling came over me whenever I thought that I was
in approximation with those who might be the means of conveying me
again into civilized life. On this occasion I was for the moment
paralysed. Pausing to assure myself of the reality of the sounds, I
heard Pecoe and his companions calling to me to pull towards the
opposite shore, from whence the sounds proceeded, and turning round to
ascertain the direction they were pursuing, I caught sight of a
long-boat, manned with ten sailors, just turning a point of land which
had hitherto screened them from my view. The Indians were still
calling to me, but it was too late. With the usual celerity of British
sailors, the boat in a few seconds was abreast of my canoe. The
officer who commanded the crew pulled my canoe aft, and after
scrutinizing my countenance, ejaculated, "The boatswain is right--an
European; but not, as he supposed, a runaway convict; it's the wrong
latitude for that kind of fish;" continuing, "Come, young man, step
into our boat: we are in want of some information with which you may
furnish us."
[Sidenote: Impressed on board an English ship]
I hesitated, then made some reply in English, when one of the sailors
exclaimed, "I told Tom that he was a Briton."
"I am glad I have met with a countryman," resumed the officer, who held
the canoe fast as he offered his hand to assist me into his own boat;
but as I still hesitated, he affected to stumble, and in the action
drew me over the bow of the canoe, which constrained me either to jump
into the ship's boat or fall into the river. When seated beside the
lieutenant, I had in some measure recovered from my surprise; I
inquired whether the practice of pressing in the British navy was
revived.
"It is not," replied the lieutenant, "but I shall feel myself justified
in detaining you until I have the particulars of your history, and
learn especially what brought you into this part of the world."
All this time the boat was proceeding down the river, and had carried
me out of sight of my Indian friends. When I informed the officer that
I had been lost when a boy, he replied--
"Then you are now found; but have you a knowledge of this river?"
"From hence upwards I have," said I. "having accompanied the Indians
in their farthest migrations."
"Make your mind easy," rejoined the officer, "I shall introduce you to
the captain of our brig."
It appeared that the boat had been sent out by a government brig which
was on a survey in the river Amazon, to ascertain the course of one of
its tributaries. Late in the evening of the following day we reached
the ship, and when my story had been heard by the captain, he at once
determined on taking me with him, saying that he should find means of
sending me to Berbice, the point, he judged, from which my father had
started, and to which place he thought it probable my father would in
the first instance transmit an account of my having been lost; and
where also it was likely some arrangement had been made for providing
me with the means of finding my way to his residence.
The brig remained two months on the survey, and then sailed for
Halifax, crossing the Mexican bay, where I had an opportunity of
witnessing the extraordinary phenomena produced by a large body of fish
that at one time surrounded the vessel. The sea was like one field of
fireworks, all sparkling with serpents and silver spangles; the mind,
when contemplating such scenes, is lost in amazement at the prodigious
number of living things the regions of the sea contain. But whether
the naturalist turns to the woods and the water, or explores the
cloud-capt mountains, the sequestered cave, or the rocky cliffs, he
will at first be embarrassed at the sight of the variety of objects
that claim his attention; and it is only by learning how to distinguish
them in a methodical manner that the mind can be brought to contemplate
them in detail.
On board the vessel I was supplied with a sailor's dress, but the force
of habit was so strong that for a considerable time I could not wear it
with any comfort to myself. The captain was faithful to his promise,
and from Halifax sent me in a merchant vessel to Demerara, with a
letter addressed to the British consul at that station. On my arrival
I presented myself before that authority, who the next day produced a
colonial newspaper in which I had seven years previously been
advertised, and a reward offered for my recovery, and in which also the
name of an agent was mentioned who would defray any costs incurred on
the occasion.
[Sidenote: Return to society]
Fortunately that gentleman was still in the colony, who, after
satisfying himself of my identity, promised to avail himself of the
earliest opportunity to restore me to my family. The location of my
father's property was on the remote banks of a branch of the Amazon
river, to which few vessels traded, there was therefore no possibility
of reaching it otherwise than overland, as the family had previously
done. For some time after my arrival in Demerara, I found myself an
object of interest, receiving invitations from most of the respectable
inhabitants; while my appearance in the streets excited a sensation.
Although I was much pleased with the opportunity of attending public
worship, where I might collect and concentrate the scattered ideas I
retained of my father's faith, yet the ceremonies and forms of society
appeared ridiculous to me, and were very irksome.
[Sidenote: First sight of home]
[Sidenote: The brother and sister]
[Sidenote: Rengal]
I received marked attention and kindness from the gentleman who had
been advertised as my father's agent, and an opportunity soon occurred
for him to place me under safe escort to my home. Two gentlemen were
about to journey near to where my father resided, and they kindly
undertook my safe conveyance. They were entrusted with a letter from
the agent to my father, which was to be delivered into no other hands
but his own. I can scarcely describe my delight when all was in
readiness for our departure and we set out on our journey. My feelings
of impatience grew more uncontrollable every day. The thoughts of home
and the prospect of again beholding all I held dear on earth made my
passage appear a lifetime;--tedious and protracted as it was I shall
pass it over now, as it had no incident that was at all attractive to
me--until we arrived at the Amazon River, whose clear surface I hailed
with indescribable delight, as I knew then we were not far from my
father's estate. Following its course for a day we arrived towards the
afternoon at a plantation of cotton, the proprietor of which informed
me that we were within two miles of my father's house. He had heard
the particulars of my absence, but declined to comply with my request
to go and inform the family of my arrival. The reason he assigned was
that he had lately been engaged in a dispute with my father, and
therefore could not undertake my mission--adding that the alteration in
my appearance, living as I had from the age of thirteen to twenty in
the wilderness, would be sufficient to prevent them from recognising me
at first. I then inquired for my uncles, and was informed that one had
sold his land and returned to England, and that the other (the widower)
was dead. This unchristian man also informed me that, in his opinion,
I had been given up as entirely lost by my family. As the day was
advancing, I waited no longer to hold converse with him, but abruptly
turned away, disgusted with his apathy and want of feeling. As we
proceeded towards my home, I consulted with the two gentlemen who were
my guides what course to adopt in breaking the intelligence of my
return, to my family, as I felt a dread of presenting myself too
precipitately after so long an absence, being naturally fearful that
the shock would be more than my mother could sustain. We deemed it
prudent, therefore, to send the letter by one of my guides, while I
waited the result close by. Our precautions, however, were not carried
into effect, as an incident occurred which rendered them unnecessary.
I had arrived in sight of my father's habitation, and paused on a
slight eminence to contemplate with mingled feelings of surprise,
delight, and fear, the spot made sacred by the affections which were
centred there, with all the ties which bound me to the world--that spot
which, from the meanest to the noblest in every land, is the only haven
of refuge from the troubles and travail in this life, and which finds a
ready response in every heart by the one magic word--home! I had not
felt its cheering influence for now more than six years. An outcast
and a wanderer for that period, how often in the loneliness of my
forest life had I yearned to be again restored to it, and to find, like
the dove of old, a place of refuge and rest--an ark, and a covenant.
But now, as the fruition of my hopes appeared to be realized, I paused,
spell-bound and overpowered by the many conflicting feelings which the
sight of it had conjured up. The memory of all the incidents of my
early life--the days of childhood--the school-boy troubles--the many
acts of parental kindness evinced in a thousand ways--were all pictured
to my sight in one rapid glance. And then the terrible foreboding
presented itself, that I might not find my family circle as I had left
them--alive and in health. In the history of the world six years is
but a speck of time; but with individuals the case is widely different.
I had lost one uncle, and the fear came across me that my loss might
not be ended thus. I almost dreaded to make the inquiry, as I felt
incapable of bearing such a calamity. It was a beautiful mansion which
lay before me. The large and well-built house, surrounded with thick
foliage--the carefully cultivated grounds surrounding it--the broad and
extensive landscape beyond of richly wooded hill and dale--the wide and
meandering river by whose banks I had been guided thither--gave to the
scene a lofty grandeur. While standing thus irresolute, a young man of
some five or six and twenty was advancing towards us; he had on his arm
a female, with whom he appeared to be chatting familiarly. I watched
them as they came near us, and from the young man's appearance judged
him to be one of the settlers here. As they approached, I heard their
voices more distinctly. That of the female fell upon my ear in well
remembered tones. There could be no mistaking them, I knew it to be
the voice of my sister. But ah! how changed she was. The laughing
merry girl had grown into a staid and matronly woman. I could hardly
believe it possible; but to assure myself, I inquired of her companion
if that was the residence of Mr. Howard. My sister started as I spoke,
turned pale, and looked at me intently. I suppose I was changed;
indeed, there was but little doubt of that--but changed as I was, she
could not be deceived. She trembled, and would have fallen, had I not
caught her in my arms in a fond embrace. The first surprise over, she
laughed and cried by turns, and overwhelmed me with caresses. Then the
numberless inquiries she had to make! One after the other in such
rapid succession, without waiting for replies. I know not what the
three spectators of the scene must have thought; but no doubt they
deemed her frantic, and, indeed, for the time, I believe she was. My
first inquiry was about my parents. They were both well. She had left
them a few minutes previously. Her companion she introduced to me as
her husband. She told me, also, that she had two children, a little
boy and girl. We arranged our plan, if it could be called arrangement,
where all was mad delight; she insisted that my two guides should go
home with her husband for that evening, as his house was close by, and
deliver the letter in the morning, while she and myself went home to
our parents. When we had arrived at the house, I detained her from
entering until I had peeped in at the window to take a glance at its
inmates. There was a light in the interior, and I could observe all
distinctly. I saw my father seated in a comfortable apartment, quite
unconscious of any one observing them. My father was reading aloud one
of the local papers. He wore spectacles; I remember to have been
struck with this, otherwise, my mother and he were not at all changed.
The same as I had left them--the old familiar faces, remembered from
earliest childhood--the old familiar faces, it made a child of me again
to gaze on them. Presently my sister entered, and from her hurried
manner and sudden return, they seemed surprised. She said something, I
did not know what, but my father rose, and hastily throwing down the
paper, gazed wonderingly on my sister. I waited no longer--another
moment--I was on my knees before my mother, buried in her embrace. She
wept over me, her truant boy, tears of joy. Who of us has not felt the
depth and purity of a mother's love? Who hath not found, be his errors
what they might, that there was one gentle spirit to turn to, ever
ready to pardon, protect, and solace? I felt the force of this doubly
then. And now, when past the meridian of my life, I look back through
the long vista of the past, the self-devotedness of a mother's love
shines forth as something "which lighted up my way of life," never to
be forgotten. My father could scarcely find utterance, from excess of
joy at my return. I recounted to him a brief summary of all I had gone
through since I had been lost, and half that night was passed in the
details of my story. My sister did not return to her own home till the
following morning, when I accompanied her. Another surprise awaited
me. I saw Rengal and his father working on our estate. They had
become devoted and trustworthy servants of the family, being employed
as free labourers. It seemed that my father had instituted a vigorous
search for me, and had engaged them many months for that purpose,
believing their acquaintance with the country would be of infinite
service in the undertaking. Their labours, however, proved fruitless,
as my reader already knows. Ultimately, pleased with their faithful
conduct, and evident anxiety to accomplish my restoration, he engaged
them as assistants on his farm, where they had remained ever since.
Their surprise and extravagant delight when I made myself known,
exceeded all bounds; and although, perhaps, I compromised my dignity, I
was obliged, in spite of myself, to burst out into a fit of immoderate
laughter. There was a degree of comicality about these people which
was perfectly irresistible, the more so, as they could not at all
comprehend it themselves. The old negro informed me that he had
discovered his daughter, and my sister's husband had purchased her
freedom, and engaged her as a domestic in his house.
* * * * *
Many years have rolled on since the incidents described in this
narrative occurred. Time has been busy with his ceaseless works and
wondrous changes. Our little settlement has now sprung up into a large
and thriving city, in whose streets are seen a throng of busy men. Our
river bears upon its bosom many argosies freighted with the merchandise
of every clime. Our meadows are ploughed into furrows by the hand of
the skilful husbandman, and returning autumn sees them laden with the
products of cultivated nature. The giant, steam, is made a slave to
man. and is seen at work on the mill--the mine--the forge--and rail;
and everywhere marks of the master spirit, industry, are visible in our
town. For myself, I am rich in the possession of all the blessings of
domestic life, with an amiable and loving partner and dutiful children.
I am respected as a thriving merchant, and I hope as a worthy friend.
My parents, I am happy to say, still cheer me with their presence and
advice; and if this, the narrative of my earlier years, should awaken
the youthful mind to a sense of self-reliance and dependence under all
trials and vicissitudes, and make manifest the bounteous providence of
a wise and beneficent Creator, my labours will not have been spent in
vain.
THE END.
[Transcriber's note: In this etext, the source book's variant page
headings have been converted to sidenotes and positioned where most
logical.]