BV 2848 .J3 B54 Bleby, Henry, 1809-1882 Romance without fiction, or,| Sketches from the portfoli, WITHOUT FICTION; OR, >ketc]^cs front tlje portfolio of an #lb By henry BLEBY, OHAIItMAN AND GENERAL SUPERINTENDENT OF THE ^VESLEYAN MISSIONS IN THE BAHAMAS. "Truth needs no flowers of speech." — Popk. NEW YORK: NELSON & PHILLIPS. CINCINNATI: HITCHCOCK & WALDEN. ^ SUNDAY-SCHOOL DEPARTMEXT. PREFACE. tHESE sketches have been written at dif- ferent times since 1853 ; some of them in Barbadoes, others in Paris, some upon the sea, and several in the Bahamas. They are not tales of fiction. All the persons mentioned in them were real actors on the stage of life, and all the events described were veritable occur- rences. Should any hearts be moved to pity by reading these stories, it will not be pity wasted upon mere imaginary suffering. If tears of sympathy are called forth, they will not be shed over fanciful distress and ideal woe. The narrative element possesses a subtle fas- cinating power, that accounts for the supremacy of the novel and the story above every other form of literary art. The omnivorous appetite that prevails in the nursery for such stories as "Jack the Giant Killer," "Little Red Riding- Hood," and " Cinderella," is a silent acknowl- edgment of this power. Jack's insatiable love 6 Preface. of yarns upon the forecastle is homage ren- dered to it. And the preference of Sunday scholars for story volumes, above all others that load the shelves of the library, is a tacit assertion of the enchanting influence. The story is at the bottom of the epic and the drama, and the most pleasing essays and dis- quisitions are those which embody brief stories for enlivenment and illustration. Even in the sacred volume the narrative element abounds, recognizing the fact that the taste for it has its basis in the depths of human nature. It is hoped that this volume of truthful nar- rative will not only afford amusement and grati- fication to its readers, but serve also to deepen in many hearts an interest in the great work of Christian missions, by which the kingdoms of this world are to be subdued and won for the Prince of Peace. CONTENTS. Sketch Pagk I. Prayer Answered 9 II. The Famine of the Word 38 III. The Martyr Missionary 69 IV. Judgment Hill 103 V. The Assassin 113 VI. The Hell-Fire Club 130 VII. The Blacksmith's Wedding 147 VIII. In Slavery a Hundred and Forty Years 165 IX. The Rendezvous of the Buccaneers 180 X. The Groundless Panic 20T XL The Lost Missionary 227 XII. Yellow-Fever Victims 237 XIII. The Midshipmen's Frolic 253 XIV. Benjie and Juno 270 XV. Driving Away the Rooks 277 XVI. Father and Son 328 XVII. The Kidnapped Noble 334 XVIII. Pursuit of Knowledge under Difficulties 362 XIX. Blighted Lives 373 XX. Happy Deaths 395 XXI. Crossing the Atlantic 41 5 8 Contents. Sketch Tjlqk XXII. A Child of Sorrow 445 XXIII. The Funf.ral Sermon 459 XXIV. A Mother's Dream 47° XXV. The Old Sanctuary 481 XXVI. The Curse Causeless 519 XXVII. The Wedding 532 XXVIII. The Broken Promise 540 XXIX. The Murdered Child 547 XXX. The Broken Heart 566 |llttstrati;0n. Manchioneal Chapel 2 ROMANCE WITHOUT FICTION. I. Prayer Ans'wered. More things are wrought by prayer Than this world dreams of. Wherefore let thy voice Else like a fountain for me night and day, For what are men better than sheep or goats, That nourish a blind life within the brain, If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer. Both for themselves and those who call them friend? For so the whole round earth is every way Bound by gold chains about the feet of God. — Tennyson. •EAR the center of the pleasant little island of Antigua — which, like most of its sister isles, abounds with natural beauties and smiling landscapes — on a sugar plantation delight- fully situated, resides a Mr. Gilbert. He occupies a large, well-furnished mansion, abounding in all the luxurious comforts with which wealthy West India planters generally surround themselves ; a class of men to whom the words of heavenly wisdom apply with much truth, " men of the world who have their portion in this life," and who deny them- selves no earthly indulgence that is within their reach. Mr. Gilbert is one of the principal men of the island, wealthy and well-educated; and, as TO Romance Without Fiction. Speaker of the House of Assembly, holds one of the highest official situations in the land. An ex- tensive proprietor of the soil, and the owner of slaves on a large scale — several hundreds looking to him as their proprietor — he is regarded as one of the most influential persons in the colony. He bears, however^ the reputation of being a kind and indulgent master, under whom slavery is stripped of many of its revolting features. None of his slaves are either flogged into a bloody grave, or ground out of life by reckless and incessant toil beyond human strength to endure. Broken down in health by one of those diseases which prevail within the tropics, when all means of restoration have failed nearer home this gentleman is advised by his medical attendants to try the eff"ects of a voyage to England, often the best remedy in such intertropical ailments. Navigation has not yet arrived at that advanced degree of perfection which it is destined to reach in after years. A voyage to Europe from the West Indies is a matter of time, and is not without considerable risk. But when' life and health are at stake, men will make sacrifices, and expose themselves to hazards they would not otherwise -encounter. Mr. Gilbert resolves to act upon the advice of his physicians ; and in one of the well loaded and comfortably fitted ships which bear his own produce to the European market, bids adieu to his native isle, uncertain, in the shattered state of his health, whether he shall ever look upon those lovely shores again. It pleased the wise Prayer Answered. Ii Disposer of events to restore him ; the long sea voyage, and a short residence in England, ac- complish the purpose for which he has left his home. For thirty or forty years John Wesley has been passing through the country, a flame of light and love, carrying blessing and peace and salvation to thousands of wretched homes. The fruits of his God-honored labors are covering the land, and his name is every-where known to be venerated by multitudes, who owe all their most precious hopes to his loving toil ; having by his preaching been led to the Saviour of sinners. Mr. Gilbert hears of this wonderful man, who is making such a noise in the nation ; praised by some, denounced as a troubler and a fanatic by others. Perhaps it may be that sickness and a near approach to the con- fines of the unseen world have not been without some effect upon his mind ; or that God's loving- kindness in his restoring his shattered health may have exerted a softening influence, and predisposed his heart to listen favorably to -the message of Divine mercy. Certain it is, however, that the life-giving word lays hold upon his conscience. As he listens to that servant of the Lord, who has been the herald of salvation to multitudes, a vivid impression of eternal things comes upon his mind. Thoughts of God and of religion are awakened, to which he has all his life been a stranger. The past and the future are presented in a light altogether new to him ; and the proud man of the world — the self-indulgent slaveholder 12 Romance Without Fiction. — is found humbled at the foot of the cross, earn- estly praying, " God be merciful to me a sinner." Burdened and heavy laden with a sense of sin, he soon forms an acquaintance with the God- honored man whose powerful ministry has been the means of awakening him to a sense of his guilt and danger as a sinner, and ere long he is enabled to rejoice in the blessings of salvation, passed from death unto life, and made a child of God by faith in Christ Jesus. Mr. Gilbert resided for some time in England, during which he had the privilege of frequent in- tercourse with the founder of Methodism, who preached in his house at Wandsworth, and bap- tized two of the negro slaves he had taken with him to the mother country, who, like their owner, had heard the Gospel to salvation, and he re- turned to Antigua about 1759. Thus to John Wesley himself is to be ascribed the honor of lay- ing the foundation of the prosperous Methodist Churches in the West Indies. Not only was Mr. Gilbert brought to God through his instrumentali- ty— the first among the slave owners — but the two slaves of that gentleman, received into the Church by baptism administered by the Founder of Meth- odism, were the first-fruits and the earnest of a large harvest of souls lo be gathered into the gar- ner of the Lord from among the enslaved children of Africa by that ministry of Methodism which Mr. Wesley originated. The West Indian planter is a greatly changed man when his foot again presses the soil of Anti- Prayer Answered. 1 3 gua. He has not only gained the physical health he went to seek in Europe ; he has found the pearl of great price. Once a child of wrath even as others, having his portion in this life, and caring for nothing beyond it, he is now a new creature, translated out of the kingdom of darkness into the kingdom of God's dear Son ; a warm-hearted, devoted member of the Methodist body. Settled again on his own plantation, he no longer looks around him with the heedlessness and indifference of former times. Once, in common with the men of his class, he identified the negroes who cultivated his lands with the monkey tribes, as mere goods and chattels ; or as being at best such a degenerate variety of the human species as to defy all cultivation of mind or correction of morals. But old things have passed away, and all things have become new. Those dense clouds of prejudice with which sin and selfishness had bur- dened his mind have been dispelled by the bright Sun of Righteousness shining upon his soul, and now he regards the sable children of toil around him as men and brethren — men equally with him- self heirs of immortality, and equally with himself interested in a heavenly Father's love, and entitled to the blessings of redemption. The love of God that has been shed abroad in his heart is not mere sentimentality. It is the loving, active prin- ciple that produces a yearning charity to his fel- low-men. It is like a fire in his bones, that will give him no rest until he makes known to the thousands of souls perishing all around him in 14 Romance Without Fiction. darkness and sin, and to persons of all shades of color, that glorious Gospel which has been to him- self the power of God to salvation. It soon begins to be whispered that there are " strange doings at Gilbert's." The plantation is known by the family name. It is observed that the mill is not in motion, and there is no smoke from the boiling-house on Sunday, as there used to be. On that day there is no work of any kind done on the plantation. Worse than this, Mr. Gilbert is reported to have " gone mad, for he is trying to teach religion to the negroes ; and he might just as well try to turn his mules and oxen into men, as to make Christians out of negro slaves." The fact is that the master of Gilbert's, con- strained by the love of Christ, has begun to do something for the salvation of the souls living and dying all around him in ignorance and in sin. He first of all gathers his household for domestic worship ; and many of the slaves of the estate, as they can get an opportunity, crowd in on these occasions, and manifest an earnest desire to know something of this " new religion," as they call it, of which they have never heard any thing before. The two converted slaves baptized by Mr. Wesley tell their fellow-slaves of what God has done for them, and the happiness of which they have been made partakers; and in many hearts there is awakened an intense yearning for instruction concerning the things of God. This desire, freely expressed by many of these poor ignorant negroes, Prayer Answered. 15 he regards as a providential call pointing out to him the path of Christian duty. Regardless of what may be said or thought by those around him, he boldly takes up the cross, and Sabbath after Sabbath speaks to the assembled negroes of his own plantation concerning their souls, the great work of redemption, and the things belonging to their peace. And the work grows. The slaves from other estates venture tremblingly to Gilbert's when they can make an opportunity, not quite sure that they will not be driven away or punished ; but they become more bold and confident when they find that their presence gives no offense, but is rather welcomed both by Mr. Gilbert and his people. Then some of the white people go to see this strange sight — one of the leading men of the island become " a negro parson." After awhile the Sabbath services at Gilbert's become an ac- knowledged institution throughout the district in which the plantation is situated, and multitudes resort thither to join in Christian worship, and receive instruction in the way of life. Probably had some person of inferior note at- tempted such an innovation upon the established state of things in the island, he would have been indignantly driven from the land by the ungodly and deeply-prejudiced slaveholders. But God has wisely chosen the right instrument for com- mencing a work pregnant with such grand results. He has laid his hand upon the proper man. The religion-haters of the colony may scowl, and grumble, and mutter vain protestations. Many of 1 6 Romance Without Fiction. them do so. But Mr. Gilbert is beyond their control. He occupies a position in society which sets their opposition at nought. Consequently no active measures are taken to interfere with the Sabbath services at Gilbert's. In this is seen and recognized the all-controlling providence of God. The work goes prosperously on. First one and then another presents himself, groaning under the burden of a guilty conscience, and anxious to know what they must do to be saved. They are directed to " the Lamb of God, that taketh away the sin of the world," and obtain peace with God, and rejoice in the blessings of salvation. After the lapse of a few years there are found upward of two hundred souls, chiefly negro slaves, rejoicing in a new life, and in the spiritual liberty where- with Christ has made them free. They have all been gathered into classes, after the model of En- glish Methodism ; and many a negro hut resounds with the voice of prayer and praise, where, for generations, there has been the unbroken stillness of spiritual death. Dark and mysterious are the ways of God ! Mr. Gilbert has prosecuted his unostentatious career of usefulness until he has lived down all the re- proach that was cast upon him. And the little so- ciety of which he is the overseer has become firm- ly established, when his health again gives way. Many tears and many prayers are called forth when his sickness becomes known. But after a short illness he passes away in Christian triumph to the realms of the blest, and the little flock of Prayer Answered. ly converted souls, who have been brought to Christ through his labors, are left without a shepherd. His loss is greatly mourned, for there is none left to take his place, and preach, as he had done. Sabbath after Sabbath, the word of life to the poor enslaved children of Africa, who had too much cause to say, before he became their instructor in the things of God, " No man cared for my soul." Gilbert's, deprived of its master, has become spiritually a desolation. There is no longer seen on the Sabbath forenoon a multitude, clad in their best and cleanest apparel, going up with joy to the house of prayer. The voice of the beloved preacher who had proclaimed to the multitude the glad tidings of great joy is silent in the dust, and gloom and sorrow are in many habitations. In the absence of every thing like pastoral care and oversight, it is not surprising that during the lapse of several years some of the members fall away, and classes which had been formed are broken up. But there are two faithful negro wom- en who strive and labor earnestly to keep to- gether the scattering flock. Among those things which their faithful instructor has often delighted to dwell upon, both in his public and private min- istrations, was the power of prayer ; and he con- tinually urged them, as a duty and a privilege, " In every thing by prayer and supplication with thanks- giving to make known their requests unto God." These two earnest class-leaders have not forgotten this. They call to mind the examples he had brought from the Scriptures to show how God i8 Romance Without Fiction, hears, and ultimately answers, the prayer of faith. They remember what he told them of Abraham, and Elijah, and Daniel, and others who pleaded successfully with God ; and they urge the people now, in this time of extremity, when God alone can help them, to call upon him in prayer. They want a teacher to supply the place of Mr. Gilbert, and show them the way of the Lord. They cannot conceive how it can be done, or where the man they want is to come from. But they know that nothing is too hard for the Lord. He is all-sufii- cient, and can do whatsoever he pleases ; "for has not Massa Gilbert told them so out of the book ? " " Let us tell God about it." " Let us pray to we Saviour, as Massa Gilbert tell us. He will find de way to help we," is the continual exhortation of these two faithful unlettered women. And it is not without effect. Although some who had been gathered in have fallen away, a goodly num- ber are yet in earnest to " flee from the wrath to come," and save their souls. Animated by the zeal and faith of this devoted couple, they fre- quently assemble together for prayer. Often are they hindered by the almost incessant toil exacted from them on the estates to which they belong as slaves, yet as many as can get together continue " instant in prayer." Night after night, whenever it is practicable, there is a little band, led on by these two faithful slaves, pouring out simple, earn- est supplication before God, the burden of which is that he will look in pity upon their destitution, and send them one like " Massa Gilbert," to break Prayer Answered. 19 to them the bread of life, and help them on in the way to heaven. Years roll on, and the answer comes not. But still they pray and do not faint. Greatly tempted to yield to discouragement, they call to mind what the man of God has often told them, " that the Lord sometimes tries the faith and patience of his people by keeping back for awhile the promised blessing which he is sure to bestow in the end. Like the woman of Canaan, they cry more earnestly, " Lord, help us ! " looking out as eagerly as did the prophet on Carmel for the sign that their prayer has prevailed. It does prevail. The all-merciful One cannot • turn a deaf ear to importunity like this. It is in the designs of his providence to carry on a mighty work of grace and salvation from this small be- ginning in Antigua. He tries the faith of these simple-hearted supplicants for a long season ; then he sends them the help they pray for. And he sends it in a way that no human wisdom could have anticipated. About this time a want is felt in the dock-yard at English Harbor. A master shipwright is re- quired to superintend the workmen employed upon the ships of war that are brought thither for repairs. The skilled workman that is needed is not to be found in Antigua. In these times of war, operations are carried on upon a large scale in the docks at English Harbor, and it is a situation of considerable responsibility that has to be filled. The skeptic would probably curl his lip in scorn at the thought ; but it is the pleading importunity 20 Romance Without Fiction. of these poor praying slave people at Gilbert's that influences and decides the filling up of this vacant situation at English Harbor. Men often uncon- sciously fulfill the Divine purposes when acting only with a regard to their own convenience. So it is in the present case. There is in the Govern- ment service at Chatham a subordinate but clever mechanic, who through Methodist agency has been won from the world to Christ. Being a man of considerable intelligence, and possessing talents for usefulness in the Church, he has been appointed to fill the offices of class-leader and exhorter. Here is the chosen successor to the saintly Gil- bert, the man to take up his mantle and enter into the evangelical labors from which he had been taken away. To him is directed the choice of those whose province it is to fill up the vacant post at English Harbor. They select him for the place because he is an accomplished workman, and a man of sober and upright character. But God has overruled the selection in his own unerring wisdom ; and, all unconscious of the sphere of Christian usefulness that is awaiting him at Anti- gua, John Baxter accepts the situation, and crosses the Atlantic, in direct opposition to the wishes of his friends, to undertake the duties that have been assigned to him there. Mr. Baxter is a devoted man of God, who for twelve years has borne the reproach of Methodism. He is well fitted, both by nature and grace, for the work that lies before him in the service of his Divine Master. It soon becomes manifest to him Prayer Ansiuered. 2i that, in accepting the Government appointment that was offered to him, he has been guided by a wisdom higher than his own. He has not been many hours upon the strange shores before he is informed of the work begun by Mr. Gilbert, and interrupted by his death. He soon finds out the praying remnant of the scattered society, and when he begins to speak with them of the things of God, they at once recognize in him the man whom God has brought to them, in answer to the many prayers they have sent up to him, that he would give them a teacher to help them in find- ing the way to heaven. Two days after his arrival, Mr. Baxter begins to address the people. It is Saturday night, and only a few of the faithful members are present, who for years have been longing to hear again the voice of a faithful preacher of the word of life. How are their spirits gladdened ! How greatly is their faith in God confirmed as they listen once more to the joyful sound, and look upon the manly form of him whom God has brought to their help ! They have asked God to send them a teacher of his truth, and there he is before them, in their eyes the embodiment of the promise fulfilled, " Ask, and ye shall receive ! " The news spreads rapidly, " A preacher has come." On the next day, being Sabbath, some hundreds flock to hear the messenger of truth. So it is during the following week : whenever he preaches, he finds a multitude athirst for the word. He accepts the sign. God has brought him here, 22 Romance Without Fiction. in his wonder-working providence, " to preach the Gospel to the poor, to heal the broken-hearted, to preach deliverance to the captives, and the opening of the prison doors to them that are bound." He gives himself heartily to the work, rejoicing over many souls awakened and made wise unto salvation through his labors. He does not abandon or neglect the duties of the secular office he was sent out to fulfill. On the contrary, he commands the respect and confidence of all with whom he is connected by uncompromising diligence and fidelity. But on the Sabbath, and very frequently on week evenings, he preaches to anxious multitudes the Gospel of salvation. He does not labor in vain. His heart is cheered by glorious success. Many a dark mind is il- luminated ; many a sin-hardened heart melted down into true penitence under the power of the word. Week after week his soul is cheered by seeing sinners converted from the error of their way. The classes which had been scattered are gathered again. Other classes are formed ; and the planters are as much astonished as the Jews were when God through Peter granted unto the Gentiles repentance unto life, at seeing religion powerfully spreading, and producing all its gracious fruit among the negro slaves. They have been accustomed to look upon these unfortunate chil- dren of oppression as no more capable of religious instruction than their cattle and their mules. Success itself becomes in time a source of em- barrassment. Soon after Mr. Baxter's arrival he Prayer Answered. 23 had written to Mr. Wesley, " The old standers de- sire that I would inform you that you have many children in Antigua whom you never saw." A year later he writes : " Six hundred of them (the negroes) have joined the society ; and, if using the means of grace be any proof, we may conclude they are in earnest. Some of them come three or four miles after the labors of the day, that they may be present at eight o'clock to hear the word ; and on Sundays many come nine or ten miles bare- footed to meet their classes." Mr. Baxter is in labors abundant. Every evening, after the duties of the day are over, this devoted servant of Christ rides to one of the plantations where the required permission has been granted, to meet with and preach to the people there, and then returns home to be ready for the secular duties of the morrow. The entire Sabbath is devoted to ministerial work. It is very desirable that a preacher be sent from home to take charge of the growing Church ; that, however, is impracticable, or the zeal of John Wesley would have led him favorably to respond to the appeals addressed to him on this sub- ject. But the work is the Lord's, and he fails not to provide for it. When Mr. Baxter is well-nigh overwhelmed with the care of this expanding cause, another member of the Gilbert family, or one bearing the same name, is sent to his aid. A Mrs. Gilbert has claims upon a plantation in Anti- gua, and failing to receive her annuity regularly, she is compelled to visit the West Indies. She 24 Romance Without Fiction. has been a member of the Methodist Society in England when it was a sect every-where spoken against, and when it required both resolution and fortitude to be identified with it. On her arrival in Antigua she sees and acknowledges the hand of the Lord in bringing her to this far-off land that she may render much-needed aid to a faithful servant of his master, who, like Issachar, " is crouch- ing down under two burdens," either of which is quite sufficient for any man to bear. This Chris- tian lady enters cheerfully and energetically into the work, recognizing the leadings of the cloud that has conducted her to the sunny land. " Had the estate," she observed, " regularly paid my an- nuity, I should have rested in my native clime, and quietly enjoyed those means of grace which I so highly prize ; but God hath his way in the whirlwind. I did not know that he had any thing for me to do in his vineyard, nor could I suppose that he would use so mean an instrument. But my work was pro- vided. Immediately on my arrival I was called on to supply those deficiencies which the secular affairs of Mr. Baxter rendered unavoidable." The help thus providentially sent to Mr. Bax- ter affords temporary relief, but soon greatly in- creases the trouble and difficulty. This Christian lady opens her house to all that will attend at family prayer every day, and once in every week for the reading of the Scriptures. Both whites and blacks attend in considerable numbers, and a new im- pulse is given to the soul-saving work. The so- cieties largely increase, and the pressure of duty Prayer Answered. 25 and responsibility becomes heavier than it has ever been before. One urgent application after another is sent to Mr. Wesley. But, though earnestly desirous of sending the much-required help, he is unable to do so. God, however, is mindful of the work that is turning many to right- eousness, and again answers prayer in sending help to those faithful laborers. Driven by stress of weather to the shores of Antigua, a ship drops her anchor in the harbor that has on board a Meth- odist family bound to the plantations in Virginia, They have been unscrupulously imposed upon, and shamefully treated by the captain ; so that when the vessel, after thirteen weeks' contention with the elements, is compelled to put into Antigua, where the sufferings they have endured are made known, they are advised by kind and sym- pathizing friends whom they meet among the Methodists to leave her. The same friends also raise a subscription to pay for their passage, and set them free from the power of the tyrant into whose hands they have unhappily fallen. The father of the family is an old man, who has been for some years a devoted member of the Meth- odist Society at Waterford, in Ireland. His two sons, both of them grown-up men, soon find em- ployment suited to their condition and capacities, one at the dock-yard, and the other on a planta- tion. The old man displays gifts and piety that render him a valuable helper to Mr. Baxter and Mrs. Gilbert : and, thus strengthened, the work spreads and grows more and more. 26 Romance Without Fiction. Eight years have elapsed since Mr. Baxter en- tered into the labors of the lamented Gilbert. They have been years of toil and anxiety, and yet of joy and triumph. Every year has witnessed considerable accessions to the number of those who have experienced the saving power of Divine grace. A chapel has been erected in the principal town of the island, in which a large number of all classes in the community assemble every Sab- bath to worship God and hear the truth as it is in Jesus. The societies, that numbered about two hundred when Mr. Gilbert was so mysteriously taken from their head, have now increased to over two thousand. " I find it hard to flesh and blood," says Mr. Baxter in a letter to Mr. Wesley, " to work all day and then ride ten miles into the country at night to preach." The need for minis- terial help has become almost overwhelming. Neither Mr. Baxter, who has taken to himself a wife that is a true helpmeet, nor Mrs. Gilbert, who devotes all her time and energies to the cause, can hope to hold out long under this severe and continually increasing pressure. There seems to be no help in man. Even the large warm heart of John Wesley fails them ; for, in the multiplicity of his labors and advancing infirmities of age, he can find no means of furnishing the aid he earnestly desires to afford to the little Methodist flock in the isles of the sea. But it is now remembered how prayer once be- fore moved the Lord's hand to send help in the time of need. When the society was scattered Prayer Answered. 2/ after the death of Mr. Gilbert, the earnest interces- sions of a faithful few prevailed with God, and he took a man from the dock-yard at Chatham, and brought him to the bereaved flock, to become their pastor and instructor in divine things. " The Lord's hand is not shortened, neither is his ear heavy." He can find the means of supplying their great want. All along Mr. Baxter and Mrs. Gilbert have been praying that some faithful la- borers might be sent to assist them in the great work. But now the whole Church is stirred up with themselves to more special pleading with God on this behalf. Week after week meetings are held in the chapel and on the plantations for this purpose ; and God is earnestly entreated to send forth laborers into this field, where the harvest is already great. They do not pray in vain. As in the former instance, prayer is heard and answered, and in a way that wondrously displays the all-prevailing, all-controlling, providence of God ; showing how He who hears the prayers of the faithful has " his way in the whirlwind," riding " upon the heavens " in their help, and " in his excellency on the sky." It is in the autumn of 1786 — when for several years earnest and united prayer has been going up to heaven from the widely scattered societies in Antigua, that God would send them ministers to meet the demands for instruction of the scattered and increasing congregations — that Dr. Coke em- barks at Gravesend with a band of missionaries. The three companions of the good doctor are 28 Romance Without Fiction, Messrs. Warrener, Hammett, and Clarke. They are bound to Nova Scotia, where a Wesleyan Mission has been commenced, and a reinforcement of missionary laborers is required to meet the de- mands of the growing work. Appointed by the conference to go to British North America, they have no thought about the West Indies and the praying people there ; nor have they the slightest expectation of ever visiting those sunny regions of the West, But " the steps of a good man are or- dered by the Lord," and he directs and over- rules all human events for the accomplishment of his own wise purposes. There are prayers reg- istered in heaven which are to influence their movements, and give their voyage a direction al- together unexpected. On the 24th of September the missionary band join the ship which is to be, much longer than they anticipated, their home upon the deep, and they commence their voyage under circumstances not the most auspicious. Their course down the Channel is both rough and dangerous. A storm of unusual severity and duration assails the vessel, during which .their safety is imperiled by collision with a sloop ; and they also narrowly escape the danger of being run down by a large frigate, driven by the fury of the tempest across their path. Battered and tossed about for many days at the mercy of the elements, it is not until the end of the third week that they are able to pass the Land's End, and fairly stretch out into the wide and angry Atlantic. Prayer Answered. 29 But this is only the beginning of sorrows to the tempest-tossed voyagers. They encounter a succession of fierce gales day after day, causing the waters to rise and swell into waves of mount- ainous dimensions, and driving them far out of the course they want to pursue. After nine weeks of this rough kind of life a greater peril threatens them, for the ship is found to have sprung a dan- gerous leak, and it is with difficulty the water can be kept under by the constant use of the pumps. Before effectual measures can be adopted to remedy this evil a fierce whirling tempest, worse than any thing they have encountered before, comes upon them, and the vessel is in imminent danger of foundering. Axes are in readiness to cut away the masts, and both crew and passengers feel that there is but a step between them and eternity. Great are the searchings of heart which these continuous perils cause in the missionary band. But they know in whom they have be- lieved ; and, raised above all anxious fear, they feel, with the apostle, " For to me to live is Christ and to die is gain." It is one of the aggravations of their condition that the commander of the vessel that is bearing them over the sea is, like too many more of his class, ignorant, surly, and brutal, and the slave of a vulgar superstition. Owing probably to a mis- understanding of Jonah's history, the superstitious notion is held by many whose business leads them to go down to the sea in ships, that the presence of a minister of religion on board brings bad luck 30 Romance Without Fictiok. to a ship's crew. The captain is one of these, and every disaster that occurs on the voyage is by him attributed to the influence of the missionaries on board the vessel. From the beginning he has looked with a strong feeling of dislike upon these men of God, and every fresh trouble that occurs adds to the gloom and surliness of his disposition. The more they pray the worse becomes the weather, in the captain's opinion, and the greater the danger to the ship. At length the brute in him becomes so thoroughly aroused that he is on the point of imitating the conduct of the mariners in the case of Jonah, by throwing Dr. Coke over- board, to propitiate the angry spirits of the deep. Though restrained from proceeding to this ex- tremity, he assails the doctor with personal vio- lence, administering sundry cuffs and kicks, and in his frenzy seizing upon some of the books and papers that overspread the table in the doctor's cabin and hurling them into the sea. These surly humors and proceedings of the captain do not by any means add to the comfort of the mis- sionary travelers; but they endure them patiently, as they do the other evils and discomforts of a miserable voyage, rejoicing that they are not only called to believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, but also to suffer for his sake. The captain's ebullitions of violent temper bring no improvement of tlie weather. For sixty-eight days, with scarcely any intermission, they have been driven about by the fury of the elements, often at their wits' end, and seemingly ready to perish. Prayer Anszvered. 31 As yet there is no improvement. On the sixty- ninth day they are in the midst of a violent hurri- cane. The ship is thrown on her beam ends, and the passengers are crying out, " Pray for us, doc- tor, for we are just gone." But the Lord inter- poses, as he has done many times before when they seemed to be in the last extremity, and by the blowing away of the sails the ship is relieved from her imminent danger, and they drive before the terrible gale with bare spars until its violence has in some degree expended itself. The provis- ions are now getting low, and the water supply is beginning to fail ; for it will soon be three months since they left the Thames. Nor is there the slightest prospect of a favorable change in the weather. In these circumstances the captain summons a sort of council from among the passengers to con- sider what is best to be done. The ship is in bad condition and very leaky, owing to her fierce and protracted conflict with the elements, and he ex- presses it as his opinion that it is hopeless to at- tempt to reach Halifax in the face of such stormy weather as they have encountered for so many weeks; and even with fine weather the provisions would not hold out for the voyage. With one consent it is determined, as that which seems to be most practicable, to give up the attempt to reach Nova Scotia and shape their course to the West Indies. The sails are altered accordingly ; they direct their course in a more southerly direction, and a few days suffice to carry them out of the 32 Romance Without Fiction. region of storm and tempests. A clear blue sky is now above them, and the water is comparatively smooth. A favorable breeze bears them swiftly on their course. The cold chills of winter speedily change to a balmy summer temperature. A tropical bird hovers about the ship ; and after the lapse of eleven days from the time they turned their vessel's prow toward the West Indies they discover land. It proves to be the island of An- tigua, and early on the morning of the 25th of De- cember, to the great joy of all on board, they find themselves in the pleasant land-inclosed harbor of St. John. As soon as the anchor is dropped Dr. Coke and his companions go ashore, with the view of in- quiring for Mr. Baxter, of whose labors and suc- cesses in Antigua Dr. Coke is not entirely ignorant. In passing along the street from the landing-place one of the first persons they fall in with is Mr. Baxter himself, on his way to the chapel to cele- brate the public services of the Christmas festival. The joy of the meeting is great on both sides, though for widely different reasons. Dr. Coke and his fellow-voyagers rejoice that they have been thus graciously delivered from the perils of the sea. With Mr. Baxter there is joy in that God has answered prayer and sent the help so long de- sired. Upon the doctor devolves the services of the day. Thrice to large and attentive audiences does he hold forth the word of life, and declare the wonders of that love of God which spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all. Prayer Anszvered. 33 But who shall describe the gladness of the peo- ple, or tell of the confirmation given to their faith in God by this impressive and wonderful answer • to their prayers ? For months, for years, they ha.ve been pleading with God in earnest supplication that, as he sent Mr. Baxter to their aid when they prayed so earnestly in that behalf, so now he would by some means, not difficult to heavenly wisdom to discover, send them ministers to be their instructors and guides in the way of life. And, lo ! the answer has come. While they have been praying God has heard them, and in his own wise and perfect way has been working for them, and giving such a direction to passing events as to fulfill the desire of their hearts. There they are ; the very men they have wanted ! the very men they have prayed for! brought, contrary to their own wishes and in opposition to their most strenuous efforts, across the broad stormy ocean to Antigua ; faithful ministers of the Gospel of peace ! What a wonderful proof is this of the power of prayer, and what an encouragement in every thing to make known their wishes unto God ! Prayer has raised up the stormy wind and lashed the ocean waves into fury to drive these men of God far from their intended course and bring them to a strange land, a land altogether far from their thoughts, there to find a people pre- jiared- of the Lord for their evangelical labors, and to gather, in an unexpected field, a precious har- vest of immortal souls. Nor do the missionary band fail to consider the 34 Romance Without Fiction. works of the Lord and regard the operation of his hands. When they look at the work of the Lord that for twenty-six years has been going on in the colony, first through the labors of Mr. Gilbert, and then through the agency of Mr. Baxter; when they observe the proportions to which it has grown, and learn how for several years the people have been besieging the throne of grace with prayer that he would send them help they cannot obtain from man, they see clearly the hand of the Lord in all that has befallen them. In answer to the prayers of the earnest, simple people in Anti- gua, he has commissioned the fierce storm and tempest to assail them on their way, and thus ren- dered it impracticable for them to reach the country to which they were bound. While their lives have been precious in his sight, and he has preserved them in the manifold perils of their protracted voyage, he has driven them away from their in- tended course and brought them, by a way they knew not, and by a path they have not known, to the very island and into the very port where there is a people prepared of the Lord, and hun- gering for that bread of life which they can break unto them. Their own purposes and wishes have been overruled and baffled, and they have been guided through the darkness and the danger by a wisdom superior to their own. The idea of proceeding to Nova Scotia is at once abandoned by the missionaries. Here is a field open to them, and it is surely the hand of the Lord that has guided their course hither. The Prayer Answered. 35 cloud of Divine Providence has so manifestly led the way, that they at once resolve to accept and enter upon the work which lies before them. Apart from the white population there are in the several islands that pertain to the British crown at least a million in whose veins flows the blood of Africa, from the fair Mestafina, only one sixteenth black, or the olive Quadroon, to the jetty, full- blooded Negroes, stolen by thousands from their own sunburnt shores to till the lands of the stran- ger. And for the souls of all these multitudes no man cares. Classed with the unintelligent brute, they are by their owners, and by those to whom their owners look as religious instructors, shut out, so far as man can do it, from the blessings of re- demption, and left, without an effort to save them, to perish in their sins. Here is the work to which the Lord has called them. The results of Mr. Gilbert's and Mr. Baxter's labors have dem- onstrated, not only that the black man has a soul that is capable of being saved equally with that of the man of fairer hue, but that he is also capable of exhibiting in his life and conversation all the heavenly dispositions, and all the exalted graces and beauties of Christian holiness. Here, therefore, it is resolved that they shall stay, and toil in the field which God has Opened to them ready for a glorious harvest. By this opportune arrival of the missionaries not only is Antigua supplied with the pastoral help it needed so much, but provision is made for the extension of the work to other parts of the 2,6 Romance Without Fiction. West Indies. St. Vincent, Dominica, St. Eustatius, St. Kitt's, Jamaica, soon receive the Gospel, carried thither by Wesleyan missionaries ; and ul- timately this work of God extends over all the islands under the British crown. Other mission- aries are sent out as the spreading work demands their services. Mr. Baxter sees it his duty to give up the lucrative situation held by him in the dock-yard, and devote himself to the full mission- ary work. And many souls, rescued from dark- ness and sin, pass away to the skies, to swell the great multitude before the throne gathered out. of every nation and people and kindred and tongue. " See how great a flame aspires, Kindled by a spark of grace ! " How little did Mr. Gilbert dream, when he first stood up with fear and trembling to speak to a few of his own family and dependents about the com- mon salvation, of the extent to which the work he was commencing would grow. Little did he sup- pose that he was laying the foundation of a mission destined to prosper until Churches should be planted in all the islands of the Caribbean Sea, and tens of thousand of souls, recovered by the instrumentality of the preached word, should be made meet for the inheritance of the saints in light. And far, very far, was it from his thoughts, that in introducing to the Western Archipelago the Gospel as known and preached by the Meth- odists, he was lighting up a flame that would ulti- Prayer Answered. 37 mately melt the chains of the slave, thus wiping ofif the foulest blot that ever stained the escutcheon of Christian Britain. Yet so it was. Mr. Gilbert, the planter and slaveholder, was God's chosen in- strument to initiate a work of grace and salvation that has brought peace and joy and hope into thousands of families, saved a multitude of souls, and proclaimed liberty to those who, held in slavery under the British flag, were groaning under the lash and plundered of all that is dear to man. For more than a century the work of God through Methodist agency has now been going on in the western isles of the sea, unchecked by op- pressive and persecuting laws, or by the frequent imprisonment of missionaries, or the brutal violence of mobs ; and numerous Churches have grown up, against which the gates of hell have not prevailed. The Wesleyan Mission has had its martyrs too, who have died under the whip or through cruel impris- onment, and it has rejoiced in examples of Chris- tian heroism and devotedness to God worthy of apostolic times. May the word of the Lord have free course and be glorified until all the isles of the sea and all the continents of the earth shall hear the life-giving sound, and the world be full of the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea! 38 Romance Without Fiction. II. " The Famine of the Word. Sad are the sorrows that oftentimes come, Heavy and dull, and blighting- and chill, Shutting the light from our heart and our home. Marring our hopes and defying our will. But let us not sink beneath the woe — 'Tis well, i^erchance, we are tried and bowed ; For be sure though we may not oft see it below, " There's a silvery lining to every cloud." — ^Eliza Cook. tHE eye that surveys Jamaica from the sea rests upon a scene of surpassing grandeur. Clothed with perennial verdure, the range of mountains extending from east to west forms the great backbone of the island. Sloping gradually to the sea on either side, they tower to the clouds, in which their summits are frequently shrouded ; while at other times their perfect outline, strongly marked against the clear, cloudless azure of a tropical sky, and seen through a calm, pellucid atmosphere, from a distance of forty or fifty miles, exhibits that beautiful, soft, dark-blue appearance which secured for them the designation of "the Blue Mountains." From the vast reservoirs which these majestic mountains embosom flow innumerable streams, often seen winding, like a silver thread, through the deep ravines, until their waters unite in a river of considerable magnitude, imparting unbounded fertility to the soil, and pro- The Famine of the Word. 39 ducing a luxuriance of vegetable life of which the denizens of more temperate zones can scarcely form an adequate conception. And it is always so. In these regions, where the icy gi.i?-: of win- ter is unknown and the evergreen cocoa-nut and cabbage-palms exhibit their lofty plumes in un- changing beauty, and the paroquet and tiny hum- ming-bird flit about, where little change of tem- perature is experienced from January to De- cember, we find the type of that better land — that uncorrupted paradise — " Where everlasting spring abides, And never-withering flowers." There stands in the center of Kingston, the com- mercial capital of this large and lovely island, a com- modious place of worship, with a missionaries' resi- dence under the same roof. It was originally the mansion of one of the city magnates. Partly through the contributions obtained by Dr. Coke in England and in the Island, and partly out of his own private fortune, wlaich was never spared in God's cause, this convenient locality, with the buildings upon it, has been secured for the mis- sion service, and adapted to the twofold purpose it is required to serve. The ground floor furnishes ample accommodation for a large family, with an extensive band-room attached. The upper part forms a commodious chapel, having a low gallery running partly around it. When completely filled this sanctuary receives fifteen hundred or sixteen hundred persons ; while the band-room, from 40 Romance Without Fiction. which a broad staircase affords access to the chapel and a view of the pulpit and the preacher, will allow three hundred more from below to listen to the word of life. God has hallowed this spot by making it the birthplace of many souls. Through his blessing on his truth nearly six hundred, in addition to those who have passed away to join the assem- bly before the throne, have been born to glory here, and now form a flourishing and increasing Church. Many of these are free colored and black people, formerly sadly debased by igno- rance and vice. But not a few are slaves, who, while wearing the chains of an earthly owner, and degraded into chattels, have been brought, through the mighty energy of the Gospel, into spiritual liberty and elevated to the dignity of children and heirs of God. The blessed work still goes on, and souls, made wise unto salvation through faith in the crucified One, are being continually added to the Church, When God works in saving men Satan rages, and his agents also become active to hinder or destroy the truth. Attempts have already been made by the legislative authorities, who are all slaveholders, to place insuperable barriers in the way of the instruction of the negroes and harass their teachers, and, if possible, drive them from the land. But the vigilance of Dr. Coke and the tolerant spirit prevailing in his Majesty's councils have hitherto rendered these efforts abortive, or prevented them from producing more than tem- TJie Famine of the Word. 41 porary embarrassment and injury, inasmuch as the intolerant enactments of the local Legislature have been uniformly disallowed by the home Govern- ment. But during the time these persecuting laws were suffered to come into operation, pending the de- cision of the Imperial Government concerning them, several missionaries have experienced the rigors of a Jamaica jail, and some of them, with health broken by persecution, or to avoid the penalty of perpetual imprisonment incurred by preaching to congregations comprising slaves, have been compelled to depart from the colony. Mob violence has also done its evil work. But that has been considerably checked by a startling event, which, for a season, made a powerful im- pression on many thoughtless minds. A fierce opposer of the missionaries, named Taylor, noto- rious for his profaneness and profligate habits, made several unsuccessful attempts to break up the congregation and injure the preacher. At this time, the chapel not having as yet been ob- tained, the people were accustomed to assemble in a private house in the lower part of the city, which could contain only a small portion of those who flocked to hear the truth. Many, therefore, were compelled to sit or stand both in the front and at the back of the premises. The persecutor having one evening, with his vicious companions, been foiled in the attempt to break up the meeting and hinder the service from going on, took his depart- ure, givmg utterance to a profane oath that he 42 Romance Without Fiction. would come next Monday with his companions on horseback and " gallop over the crowd till he had trampled the accursed Methodists down to hell." But God was beforehand with the blasphemer. At the very same hour the following Monday, when the people, many of them with great fear and trembling, were gathering, as usual, to wor- ship God, the corpse of the persecutor, followed by many of the abettors of his wickedness, was borne to the church-yard for interment. God had smitten him down with fever. For some years after this a salutary dread of the Almighty arm, which had been so impressively uplifted, modified the rage of the persecutors. But the work is growing, and it must be stopped ; for, say some, " People cannot pass through the streets of the city without being annoyed by sing- ing and prayer." "These Methodists are at it all night; the orderly inhabitants cannot rest in their beds without being disturbed." " It must be put an end to." How to accomplish this is the ques- tion. Mob violence will not do : that has been tried, and it only makes the matter worse ; for the more the Methodists are opposed in this way the more they seem to increase. And, through the representations of parties in England, the home Government disallow every bill passed by the local Legislature to prevent "this preaching and psalm- singing and teaching religion to slaves." "What can be done ? " " How shall we silence or get rid of these troublesome Methodists, or keep our slaves away from them .'' " The Famine of the Word. 43 There is great perplexity among the religion- hating clique. At length a bright and lucky thought suggests itself to the mind of one of the persecutors. "The Common Council can do it." True, the corporation cannot stop the preaching in the country parishes, for their authority is lim- ited to the city, and the Government in London are sure to reject and neutralize any law of the island containing clauses to that effect. But the missionaries can be silenced in the city, which is the head-quarters of the fraternity. With this new light upon the subject there is soon to be ob- served great activity among the enemies of the truth ; frequent meetings are held, and rumors begin to circulate that evil is impending over the Methodists. The Common Council possess au- thority from their charter to frame such ordi- nances as they may see fit for the maintenance of order and good government within the city, and that authority (whether legitimately or otherwise it matters little) may be made to cover such measures as are necessary to put an end to " this nuisance of praying and preaching." At the next meeting of the City Council there is a large gathering of the members. Lawyers have left their offices and merchants have de- serted their counting-houses to be present, for the purpose to be accomplished is felt to be one of great interest and importance. The mission- aries have heard something of the conspiracy formed to deprive them and their people of relig- ious rights, and they also are alert to meet the 44 Romance Without Fiction. crisis. But it is in vain they present themselves with a petition, and request to be heard against the passing of the contemplated ordinance. In vain they endeavor to secure such a modification of its worst provisions as will leave the people, who love the truth, some small remnant of liberty to worship God and hear his word. A few of the members of the Board are somewhat dubious con- cerning their right to enact such a law; but only one gentleman has courage openly to resist the meditated oppression. He unhesitatingly ex- presses it as his opinion that " not only is it wrong thus to trample upon the consciences and restrict the religious liberties of the Methodist people, but the corporation possesses no legal au- thority for taking such a course." Intolerance and wickedness are, however, permitted for a sea- son to triumph. Yet there is a boundless Wisdom at work in these things, accomplishing its own purposes, and bringing much good out of the ap- parent evil. The ordinance is passed by an overwhelming majority, and there is in it much of the subtlety of the old serpent. No religious service of any kind is permitted to be held in the city after sun- set, or before six o'clock in the morning, under penalty of p^ioo for each offense, or three months' imprisonment in the common jail, the occupier of the premises used for such service being also liable to the same penalty. And at other times no person is to " presume to teach or preach, or expound the Holy Scriptures, or offer up public The Famine of the Word. 45 prayer, or sing psalms in any meeting or assembly of negroes or persons of color, not being duly au- thorized, qualified, or permitted;" the city magis- trates, who passed the ordinance, reserving to themselves the sole right of judging concerning such qualification, and of giving or withholding the required authority or permission. The effect of this ordinance, which comes into immediate operation, is at once to cut off nearly the whole of the unfortunate slaves from receiving any instruction whatever ; for there can be no re- ligious service held, except on the Sabbath, be- tween sunrise and sunset ; and the Sabbath is not .theirs, nor a single hour of it, apart from the will of their owners. No law recognizes their right, or gives them opportunity, to keep holy the Sabbath day. They are absolutely under the control of their owners, and have no right except to labor, suffer, and die. The free colored and black peo- ple can assemble and join in the public worship of God, and hear words whereby they may be saved ; for as yet the attempt may not be pru- dently and safely made to deprive them of the Methodist services altogether. There are some among the city magistrates who do not heartily approve of the persecuting ordinance, and one who is strongly opposed to it. It will not, there- fore, be good policy to push matters to an ex- tremity too suddenly, lest inconvenient opposition should be aroused in their own body. But the purpose of the persecutors is to put a stop to the Methodist preaching and praying entirely ; and 46 Romance Without Fiction. assuredly it must be done. It is only a question of time, and the desired opportunity at length presents itself. It is a day of gladness at the Coke Chapel Mis- sion house. The hearts of the harassed mission- aries, already in the field, have been cheered by the arrival of a fresh band of laborers from Eu- rope, consisting of three missionaries and the wife of one of the number, after a long and tempestu- ous passage across the Atlantic. Such an event is always a gladsome one to the toil-worn ministers of the cross in a far-oif land, especially when, as here, they have to prosecute their labors in the midst of great difficulties, and in the face of re- proach and persecution. It is the evening of the day on which the new comers have landed, glad to be released from a tedious and uncomfortable confinement in the ship. They and the brethren who have welcomed them to the slave-land form a pleasant party. But little does it enter into the anticipations of any one among them that, within the lapse of a week, having only preached one sermon to the people among whom he hopes to prosecute a long and useful course of hallowed toil, that young missionary, whose countenance glows with the bloom of lusty health, and whose limbs are nerved with the vigor of youthful manhood, will, together with his young and lovely wife, be sleeping in the grave. Yet so it is to be. In the inscrutable arrangements of an unerring Provi- dence, both of them, suddenly swept away from their labors, and from life, by yellow fever, before The Famine of the Word. 47 the week has elapsed, pass away in the same night, and enter with glorious triumph their Fa- ther's house above. But no thought of this enters the mind of any of that happy group, which embraces all the mis- sionaries in the island. And it is well that a thick and impenetrable vail does conceal the future from our view, or how much more frequently would the enjoyments of life be marred ! The young missionary and his wife who are so soon to join the upper choir are found to possess voices of more than ordinary sweetness and power, and are .well skilled in the beautiful melodies pop- ular in the Methodist churches in England. It is with these delightful remembrances of home that the party is occupied, voices and spirits blending in sweetest harmony, and attracting many outside to listen to the pleasing sound. The evening speeds on, and they " Forget All time, and toil, and care." Not one of them observes that the dial indicates a quarter of an hour passed beyond those limits within which it is the will and pleasure of the Common Council that psalms and hymns may be sung or prayer offered in the district under their control. They are suddenly and disagreeably re- minded of the fact by the unceremonious intrusion of a police officer, accompanied by one of the city magistrates, and a party of the town guard. By these rude and unwelcome visitors Messrs. Gil- grass and Knowlan, the resident missionaries, are 48 Romance Without Fiction. taken into custody and marched off at once to the cage. On the next day the younger of the two is released, but Mr, Gilgrass, as the occupier of the Mission house, being held guilty of violating the city ordinance, is sentenced to expiate the crime of singing Methodist hymns by a month's impris- onment in the city jail. The excellent wife of the culprit is permitted, as an act of special grace on the part of the civic dignitaries, to share her hus- band's punishment. At the end of the specified time the persecuted missionary comes forth from his prison cell to find that another and a heavier blow has been struck at the cause of truth by the heartless oppressors of the slave. Three years have elapsed since the last intolerant law enacted by the island legislative authorities ceased to operate, in consequence of its disallowance by the sovereign in council, and now another attempt is made to prevent mission- ary instruction being given to the slaves. In hope of being able to elude the vigilance of the friends of missions in England, the Legislature, sanctioned in their oppressive policy by Sir Eyre Coote, the governor, (such men deserve all the immortality which the press can give to their evil works,) have embodied in an act entitled " The Consolidated Slave Law," several clauses intended to shut up the negro in hopeless ignorance, by preventing the Christian missionary from approaching him with the word of life. This wicked law subjects " every Methodist missionary, or other sectary or preacher," who shall presume to instruct the The Famine of the Word. 49 slaves, or receive them into their " houses, chap- els, or conventicles, of any sort or description," to a fine of " twenty pounds for every slave found to have been there," or " perpetual imprisonment 'until such fines are paid." Such a persecuting enactment is not more likely to receive the approval of the king in council than others of a similar character which have preceded it, and have been disallowed, if its true character and tendency become known. It is not likely to escape the observation of the watchful friends of the slave, that this act is intended to impart greater intensity to the oppression that crushes him down, and the designs of its originators will be bafiied. But their evil purposes will be so far accomplished that the act will come into operation for some time, pending the decision of the home Govern- ment concerning it. Thus an opportunity and pretext will be given for working great annoyance and injury to the missionaries and their flocks during many months that must elapse before the fate of the bill can be officially made known. The result soon becomes apparent. It is not pos- sible to keep the negroes out of the chapels when they are opened for public service, and to avoid the penalty of perpetual imprisonment — since it is not practicable for them to pay the fines imposed by the new law — the missionaries are compelled for the present to desist from their public labors. Excepting that in the city, all the chapels in the islands are closed, and cease to echo the voice of prayer and praise, and the proclamation of 50 Romance Without Fiction. mercy and salvation to the peeled and plundered slaves. Coke Chapel still resounds with the delightful exercise of Christian worship. This privilege, however, is secured to some of the free popula- tion only by the harsh precaution of placing per- sons at each door of the building to prevent the entrance of any unfortunate slave. It is often touching and heartrending in the extreme to hear the pleadings and remonstrances of these deeply- wronged children of Africa, thus driven from the footstool of God. They can scarcely be made to understand the cruel necessity that exists of ex- cluding them from the holy place without such explanations being entered into as would lay open the person giving them to the capital charge of constructive treason. It is a capital crime to ren- der slaves dissatisfied with their condition or with the law. But thus it must be until the dawning of better times, or the sanctuary must be altogether closed. Nor is it long before this further great wrong is also perpetrated, and the voice of the preacher is hushed, and there is silence in the house of "the Lord. The enemies of religion in the city have merely waited for the opportunity of conveniently accom- plishing their evil purposes, and now the time has arrived. A few weeks only have elapsed since the infamous " consolidated slave law " came into operation, shutting up all the chapels in the rural districts, when the missionaries in Kingston are summoned before their old adversaries of the Com- The Famine of the Word. 5 ^ mon Council, to show their qualification and author- ity for preaching in the city. Exhibiting certifi- cates which show that they have taken the oaths and subscribed the declarations required by the toleration laws of England, they claim to be duly qualified ; but are met with the inquiry, " What are the laws of England to us ? " They are then informed that they will be allowed to preach no more, under the heavy penalties specified in the city ordinance, until they are duly licensed by the magistrates of the city. A respectful application is then and there made to the bench for such a license as the magistrates consider to be necessary ; which calls forth the peremptory response, " Indeed, you will not get one." Thus, by a godless, persecuting oligarchy, are ministers and people deprived of their religious rights as British subjects ; and the public worship of the Almighty is held to be a crime, and treated as such. At the court of quarter sessions, held during the following month, a similar application is made. But care has been taken that the bench shall be occupied only, or chiefly, by those who belong to the faction opposed to religion and religious teach- ing. To the sorrow of hundreds, the missionaries are scornfully driven from the court, menaced with a most rigid enforcement of the penalties imposed by the persecuting ordinance, if they dare, in any way, to violate its provisions by preach- ing, praying, or singing among the people. For a season, Satan has triumphed. Intolerance 52 Romance Without Fiction. and oppression are rampant throughout the land, and the enemies of the Gospel are every-where jubilant. There is sorrow in the habitations of the just; and a dense gloom has darkened the prospects of many a poor negro, who has been per- mitted to catch a glimpse of the distant immor- tality beyond this vail of suffering and woe, only, as it now appears, that it may be lost to him for- ever. From Manchioneal in the east, to Negril in the west, no Christian sanctuary now opens its portals where the poor slave can hear of Jesus and the cross, the pardon of sin, and the bright and better land where there is no curse, and the weary are at rest, and God himself doth wipe away the tears from all eyes. True, there are men in the land called rectors of parishes ; but troops of ille- gitimate mulatto children deriving their paternity from them, and their own mangled and murdered slaves, proclaim, in too many instances, that these are no ministers of Christ's pure Gospel ; and that for the injured, disconsolate negro to go to them for instruction or comfort would be like expecting to find grapes on thorns, or figs on thistles. There are buildings called parish churches that might possibly contain one in five hundred of the population of the parish. But it is no uncommon thing for these to remain closed, without minister or congregation, for months together. Slight, in- deed, is the loss sustained when it is so ; for, at best, the light in these sanctuaries is scarcely enough to make the darkness visible. Nor do The Famine of the Word. 53 these ministers even consider that any beyond the thinly-scattered whites of the population form a portion of the charge with which they are con- cerned. All the hopes of the sons and daughters of Africa, whether bond or free, so far as religious instruction and the joys and blessings of religion are concerned, center in the missionary. Now, alas ! he is silent ; and it is a dubious question whether the existing generation will ever be permitted again to hear, in public, the voice of the Lord's servant, pointing the weary, sin-burdened soul to the aton- ing Lamb of God. The months roll on, and repeated efforts have been made to remove the restrictions laid upon the worship of God in the city, and afford the peo- ple the opportunity, so ardently desired by them, of hearing again the preaching of God's saving truth. The governor has been appealed to. But the man who could put his signature to the " con- solidated slave law, and so pervert the power un- worthily vested in him as the representative of the crown as to sanction and aid the wicked purposes of a persecuting slave oppressing faction, could have no disposition, even if he possessed the power, to interpose between the injured mission- aries with their flocks and the municipal authori- ties. From him no help can be obtained. It is a case in which he has no authority, the city magis- trates not being subject to his control. They do not, like the general magistracy of the island, re- ceive their commissions from the crown, but from popular election. At several successive quarter- 54 Romance Without Fiction. sessions the missionaries apply for licenses, such as the Common Council may consider sufficient to warrant them in the exercise of their ministry in the city ; but with no result, except a stern, in- dignant refusal. A year and a half has passed away since the voice of any missionary has been heard in pub- lic within these shores. In the rural districts, the societies that had been gathered, with many prayers and tears, have been scattered. They consisted largely of slaves, and it has been im- possible to hold among them religious services of any kind. The deserted sanctuaries in which they loved to hear of the things of God, and where they had often experienced the elevating, hallowing influences which threw athwart the dark gloom of their condition bright gleams of hope, and the only rays of comfort whereof their sad and wretched state was susceptible, now stand in silence and solitude; serving but to remind them, when pass- ing by, of their own utter desolation, and tempting them to believe that they are not only foully wronged by man, but abandoned of God. They no longer even look upon their teachers, for the silenced ministers, unable to gain any access to their people, have departed to other scenes of toil. In the city it is somewhat different. The sanct- uary is closed, the pulpit vacant, and the mission- ary's voice no longer heard in public devotion. But two of these servants of Christ remain at the post of duty assigned to them, until one is com- The Famine of the Word. 55 pelled through sickness to take his departure. They cannot preach or pray, or even sing a hymn, openly ; but they can visit from house to house, among those who are not in bondage, and converse with them on the things of God. Now and then they can minister a word of comfort and encour- agement to the down-cast slave as he crosses their path ; and occasionally, when no malignant eye is upon them, they can kneel in secret prayer with their sorrow-stricken charge. Best of all, the Lord is working with them ; and they are not without many delightful proofs of his almighty power to save. But the persecuting " consolidated slave bill ! " What has become of that.? Measures have been taken in England, by the friends of missions, to expose the hypocrisy of its pretensions, and make known its real character and tendency to the members of the privy council ; and his majesty has been petitioned to disallow it, and give to the thousands of his slave-subjects in Jamaica the right to hear of and to worship God. But more than a year has elapsed, and no official intelligence has been communicated to the Government of the enactment of such a law. When inquiry is made, it transpires that the time-serving governor of Jamaica, Sir Eyre Coote, expecting that the un- righteous enactment will certainly be disallowed, has so far pandered to the evil passions and pur- poses of the planters as designedly to keep it back, and thus allow the longest possible time for the enemies of slave instruction to carry its oppressive 56 Romance Without Fiction. clauses into effect, and break up and scatter the missionary Churches. This, however, can be doJie no longer. After being in operation more than a year and a half, it is at last duly presented to the privy council, from whom it receives its well- merited fate. The gladsome news circulates through the land that his majesty in council has disallowed the vile law, and it is no longer a crime, punishable with a heavy penalty, to preach the Gospel to slaves. Much injury has been done by the scattering of these poor sheep; but many of them soon gladly assemble together, and the people go up again with joyful hearts to worship Jehovah in his temples. Unhappily, the disallowance of the " consoli- dated slave law " brings no relief to the missionary and the society in the city. The intolerant city ordinance still remains in force, for his majesty in council cannot disallow that. The chapel is still closed, and many hundreds of devout people are deprived of the bread of life, and denied the right of worshiping their Maker in the public ordinances of religion. Persecution is rife and triumphant ; and so closely are they watched by malignant foes, that the missionary and his people are often in- terrupted in their family worship by volleys of stones hurled against the jalousies and windows of their dwellings. The teachers are silent ; but still they remain, and go in and out among their flock, conveying to many hearts in private the gladdening truths they may not openly publish. Meanwhile, the brethren at the country stations, The Famine of the Word. 57 freed from the restrictions imposed by the rejected law for a season, are now joyfully and successfully prosecuting their labors among the slaves of the plantations. The persecutors are disappointed and angry ; but exulting in liberty, and grateful to Him who has curbed the wrath of their enemies, the missionaries, having resumed their labor of love in the rural parishes with renewed energy, preach the hopes of eternal life to their swarthy, suffering charge, and thousands of negroes are gladdened with the prospect of final deliverance within the vail from the manifold evils of their present unhappy lot. Many hearts in the city yearn for like blessings as they think of the country chapels crowded with earnest worshipers, listening to the uplifted voice of the Lord's messengers, and drinking in words of heavenly instruction. Again and again the at- tempt is renewed to move the hearts of the city magistrates, and obtain the removal of those un- just and painful restrictions under which the peo- ple labor. But it is in vain, and there is no alter- native but patient submission, until the Lord shall interpose in answer to prayer, and break the bonds of the oppressor. " The famine of the word," as the people sig- nificantly describe it, is painfully felt ; but they are not without delightful and encouraging man- ifestations of the Lord's presence with his people in their affliction, and of his power to save. There is no public ministration of the word of life, no warning of sinners from the pulpit to flee from the 58 Romance Without Fiction. wrath to come. But the Spirit of the Lord can work, and accomplish great and saving results, apart from outward means. Persecution can si- lence the voice of the Lord's servant ; but it can- not enchain the Divine Spirit, or place limits to his gracious operations. It is a remarkable and' encouraging fact, which forces itself upon the ob- servation even of the enemies of the truth, that the work of God advances more rapidly, and spreads more deeply and widely, within the municipal boundaries than it has ever done before. The efforts put forth to suppress and destroy Method- ism have only imparted to it greater strergth and influence. The great adversary has in this case, as often before, outwitted himself, and the persecutors have defeated their own purpose. This virulent persecu- tion of the unoffending Methodists, the outrage upon conscience and religious liberty, involved in shut- ting up the house of God and dragging the mission- ary to a loathsome jail, has awakened a powerful sympathy in the breasts of hundreds, where utter indifference to religion and its professors prevailed before ; and multitudes now look with kindly in- terest upon the people who are tyrannically denied the right to sing and pray. Thus many are pre- disposed to receive gracious impressions; and the consequence is, that numerous accessions are made to the society, both of men and women, bond and free. These, gathered into the Church in times of trial and persecution, are known through many after years as beautiful patterns of Christian The Famine of the Word. 59 holiness, and burning flames of light and love. Some of the finest examples of Christian devoted- ness and usefulness the writer has ever known, were among those who were gathered into the so- ciety during " the seven years' famine of the word." Prohibited from preaching, the missionary can visit the members of his flock ; and every-where he is welcomed as an angel of the Lord. Very often the opportunity of offering a short prayer is earnestly improved ; and many a brief word of admonition or affectionate counsel, dropped by the man of God in these visits, becomes as bread cast upon the waters, to be found after many days. The class-leaders also, men and women of deep and rich experience in the things of God, who have been chastened by years of persecution and rebuke, are neither idle nor unfruitful. Some of them can only discharge their duties by periodical visitation of their members at their own habita- tions; but this is done with an earnest, untiring assiduity, that shows how truly their hearts are in the work. And they, through God's blessing, not only keep the members of their classes from yield- ing to discouragement and falling away, but are frequently adding fresh names to their class lists, augmenting the candidates for eternal life. There is not a street, or lane, or alley in the city where the influence of this work of God is not felt. But some of the leaders who have slave mem- bers in their classes, or others whom it is imprac- ticable for divers reasons to visit at their own homes, have recourse to various means of evading 6o Romance Without Fiction. the persecuting ordinance, and escaping also the vigilant eyes of -their foes. There is one whose employment keeps him at home all day throughout the week ; but on Sunday he is free to go out, and his members meet him in the church-yard, vary- ing the hour and the spot so as not to attract at- tention, and there he speaks to them concerning the things of God, and gives them Christian coun- sel. Another leader meets his members in the church-yard just after nightfall, and before the nine o'clock bell admonishes all slaves to seek the shelter of their homes, they being liable to pun- ishment if found abroad after the bell has tolled. There, among the tombs, they hold Christian con- verse, assured that the superstitious fears of the people will secure them from interruption, as none will venture to enter the church-yard after it has become dark. But every week they choose a dif- ferent evening, lest their assembling at one partic- ular time should bring upon them the observation of the enemy. Another of the leaders, in a simi- lar way, causes his members to meet, at a time appointed from week to week, under a tree stand- ing in an open field beyond the city boundaries, during the interval between sunset and the tolling of the nine o'clock bell. But there is one female leader with whom none of these methods are available, and who cannot visit the members at their homes, for most of them are domestic slaves. She is therefore under the necessity of finding out some other means of hold- ing Christian intercourse with them, and she The Faniijie of the Word. 6i finally decides upon a plan that serves the purpose well, year after year, until the dawning of better days. A particular morning is selected, but fre- quently changed, to escape observation. At the earliest dawn of day the members repair to a cer- tain street, this also being changed from week to week. Passing along the street, the leader meets one or more of her people at short intervals, and holds a brief conversation with them on the affairs of the soul, until she has seen and spoken to them all. By these, and other equally novel methods, the class-meetings, so important in Methodism, continue to be held ; the society is kept well to- gether ; the people, animated and encouraged by their devoted leaders, continue steadfastly growing in grace, and the work of the Lord grows and prospers. Four years have gone since the persecuting or- dinance was passed, and all this time " the famine of the word " has continued. On the scriptural precept of returning good for evil, the corporation of the city have been accommodated for some months with the use of the chapel for the free school while the proper building has been under- going renovation. This act of kindness on the part of the Methodists, it is hoped, will soften the stony hearts of the city magistrates, and dispose them to show less hostility toward the missionaries and their work. Acting on the assumption that the spirit of intolerance has so far abated as to admit of the recommencement of public worship without interruption, Mr. Wiggins, the resident 62 Romance Without Fiction, missionary, ventures to open the chapel and occupy the pulpit, preaching one Sabbath both in the forenoon and afternoon. The next morning makes it manifest that the spirit of persecution has in no degree been modified ; for the offending preacher is summoned to the police office, and sentenced to a month's confinement in the com- mon jail. He is also informed by the magistrates that a repetition of the crime will be visited with the full penalty of the law. Thus again the hopes of the people are blighted. But the sympathizing multitude, who crowd every avenue leading to the police court, and attend their beloved minister with tears to the jail, make it evident to the in- tolerant magistrates, not only that their efforts to suppress this hated and much dreaded Methodism have utterly failed, but that it has become more formidable than ever. Another year and a half have passed away, and still the house of God is shut up, while the failing health of the imprisoned missionary, broken by confinement in a loathsome cell, has compelled him to bid a reluctant farewell to his loving, suf- fering flock, and try what a change to another scene of labor will do to recruit his wasted ener- gies. After a short interval a successor arrives, and the people are gladdened once more to be- hold their teacher. Since the last imprisonment of the minister of the truth God has been at work, and his power has been terribly displayed. The pestilence, walking in darkness, has borne thou- sands to the grave, and a destructive hurricane The Famine of the Word. 6i has swept over the guilty countr)^, producing wide-spread devastation both by sea and land. An earthquake, more dreadful and alarming than any experienced since the awful visitation that submerged Port Royal, the capital of the colony, beneath the waves, more than a hundred and twenty years before, has shaken the island to its center, greatly changing the aspect of the country, and speaking with its voice of thunder to bid a thoughtless, guilty people stand in awe of God. These upliftings of the Almighty arm have not been without effect. Greater intensity has been imparted to the religious feeling, now widely per- vading the city. Even the persecuting faction have not been entirely insensible to the influence of these providential visitations, and it becomes manifest that a considerable change has taken place in their feelings and views with regard to the missionaries since, eighteen months ago, they gnashed their teeth with rage against a Christian minister, and sent him to breathe the fetid atmos- phere of the city prison. This change is so marked that it is considered advisable to make another effort to remove the existing disabilities by requesting the city magis- trates to grant to Mr. Davis, the newly-arrived minister, such a license as these dignitaries may deem sufficient to warrant the re-opening of the chapel for public worship. With many misgivings the petition is prepared and presented, and to the surprise and joy of thousands, after a few merely technical objections to the form of the petition, its 64 Romance Without Fiction. prayer is granted. Mr. Davis is licensed, and de- clared to be duly qualified. Several weeks elapse before the chapel is ready to receive the congre- gation, and again its hallowed walls re-echo the sounds of prayer and praise, and the proclamation of the ever-blessed Gospel. But dark and mysterious are the ways of Provi- dence ! Scarcely has this great joy been realized by the anxious people, many of whom have waited for it for some years, when it is turned into sor- row, the voice of God's honored messenger, upon whose lips multitudes have hung with unmixed delight, being suddenly hushed in the silence of the grave. The deadly fever has seized him, and after a brief illness he passes away to the Church above, and the sanctuary of the Lord is left again to solitude and silence. While this youthful laborer, snatched away in his prime, is being laid in the dust, amid the loud lamentations of the afflicted multitude, who grieve for his removal from among them as a mother mourns the loss of her firstborn, Jehovah, the faithful hearer of prayer, is bringing another to their help. He is already crossing the Atlantic, for whom is reserved the happy privilege of tri- umphing over, and finally removing, those legal hinderances which have so long obstructed the word of God. Just a month after Mr. Davis had been removed by deaih, Mr. Shipman, with his wife, arrives upon the scene. But when applica- tion is made on his behalf to the city magistrates for a license intolerance has gathered strength, The Famine of the Word. 65 and is found to be once more in the ascendant. A party in the municipal body, styling themselves anti-Wesleyans, have taken possession of the court, and the license is peremptorily refused, although the application is supported by the earnest recom- mendation of several of the principal inhabitants of the city. Again and again it is repeated, but always with the same result. The more liberal party which has risen up in the City Council is in- variably outvoted by the bigots of slavery. Discouraged by these repeated disappointments, spreading over some months, the baffled mission- ary thinks of retiring to some other sphere of labor, where he will be able to exercise his minis- try without interruption. But it is often the dark- est just before the dawn. When he is almost giv- ing place to despondency a friendly member of the Common Council comes forward to his aid, advising him to wait patiently for a while, and suggesting a plan likely to defeat the purposes of the persecutors. The co-operation of several members of the municipal body, who are friendly to missionary efforts and can be relied on, is quietly engaged, and they all agree to meet at a given hour, when the opposing party, in conse- quence of having heard nothing concerning the intention of the missionary to apply again for a license, are likely to be off their guard. At the appointed time, arriving from different points, the friendly magistrates all assemble in the court, Mr. Shipman, who is waiting close at hand, is im- mediately summoned, and before the opposers can 66 Romance Without Fiction, muster in sufficient force to prevent it, the mis- sionary is duly licensed by competent authority to exercise his ministry within the municipal bound- aries. All over the city there is great joy that the doors of the Lord's house are again to be opened, and its walls resound once more with the songs of Christian worshipers. There is in the society a white lady — a Mrs. Smith — who was among the first seals of Dr. Coke's ministry in Jamaica, and a member of the first class formed in the island, consisting of eight members. At one of the services, soon after he arrived in the colony, the life of the good doctor was threatened by a brutal mob of slaveholders. This lady, with noble, undaunted courage, con- fronted them, and having no more formidable weapon at command, she kept the savage, cow- ardly assailants at bay with a pair of scissors until the doctor was conducted to a place of safety. A mother in Israel, and greatly and deservedly beloved, her labors and prayers have been un- ceasing during the long persecution and privation which the Church has experienced. A pattern of holiness and zeal to all, she has encouraged the timid, strengthened the weak, and comforted the afflicted, and her noble example has confirmed many in the right way. To her, by universal consent, is assigned the honor of opening the gates of the sanctuary to the crowd of anxious worshipers. The third of Sep- tember is the appointed day, more than seven years having then elapsed since the persecuting TJie Fami7ie of the Word. Gy ordinance which shut up the chapel began to take effect. When the hour for divine service arrives several thousands have gathered in the large square in front of the chapel. The missionary lifts from its place the heavy bar that keeps the gates closed. Then Mrs. Smith, lifting her voice in earnest prayer to God that persecution may never again be permitted to close them, so as to shut out faith- ful worshipers from the Lord's house, throws them wide open. The people enter and crowd every aisle and seat, and the minister ascends the pulpit, preaching the word of life to the throng of eager, delighted listeners from Psa. Ixxxiv, 1-4 : " How amiable are thy tabernacles," etc. The long dearth of the bread of life, which multitudes have keenly felt and deplored with many tears, exists no longer. God has turned the sadness of his people into joy. He has "made them glad ac- cording to the days wherein he afflicted them, and the years wherein they suffered evil." How wonderful are the ways of the Lord ! How easy is it for him to baffle the enemies of his Church, and to confound the devices of perse- cutors ! They cursed the Lord's people, but he changed the curse into a blessing. As the Lord himself hath said, " He that sitteth in the heavens shall laugh. The Lord shall have them in deris- ion." They thought to crush and destroy the infant Church of Christ, but he has strengthened and enlarged it abundantly. When the hand of the oppressor closed the gates of the sanctuary the Church enrolled five hundred and sixty mem- 68 Romance Without Fiction. bers only. When the over-ruling providence of God caused them to be re-opened, after what some call "the seven years' night," never again to be closed by the hand of violence, the society was found to have increased to one thousand seven hundred and twenty-three. Those added to the Church during this time of trial were a choice and peculiar people. The writer has often been delighted and profited when, in the love-feasts, he listened to their profoundly interesting narrations of a rich Christian expe- rience. Many hearts have been strengthened, and many sincere seekers after salvation encouraged as they heard them tell of the presence and power of the Head of the Church among his people when they, with many others, were brought to God, and saved from the guilt and power of sin during " the seven years' famine of the word." The Martyr Missionary. 69 III. The Martyr Missionary. A patriot's blood may earn, indeed, And Tor a time insure to his loved land The sweets of liberty and equal laws; But martyrs struggle for a brighter prize, And win it with more pain. Their blood is shed In confirmation of the noblest claim. Our claim to feed upon immortal truth. To walk with God, to be divinely free. To soar, and to anticipate the skies. — Cowpee. f^HE date of our tale carries us back on the h stream of time some sixteen or seventeen years. Far up among the mountains, in the interior of Jamaica, a missionary, who has borne the toils and anxieties of fifteen years in that land of oppression, (during which time he had passed through many vicissitudes, and rejoiced greatly over the downfall of colonial slavery,) is standing by the side of a low, plain brick tomb, undistin- guished by any inscription to inform the beholder whose ashes are slumbering in the dust beneath. The tomb is discolored by time and moss-grown. Grass and weeds almost conceal it, for it is nearly twenty years since that grave was opened to re- ceive the remains of a victim of bigotry and per- secution, who rests there awaiting the morning of the resurrection, and " the glory that is to be re- 70 Romance Without Fiction. vealed " in the saint at " the manifestations of the sons of God." To visit that tomb the missionary has taken a journey of some miles. The evening is most lovely. Gentle, sweet, and balmy are the breezes sweeping by, just sufficient to temper the heat and bear to the gratified sense the delicious fragrance gleaned from rich orange blossoms adorning a multitude of trees with which the surrounding pastures abound. The western sky is lighted up with splendor and beauty, for the sun is near his setting, and paints one of those gorgeous scenes which are never witnessed to such advantage as within the tropics. The scenery all around is very pleasant to the eye. The spot upon which the visitor stands, by the side of that long-closed grave, is in a lovely valley amid the mountains of St. Ann's. No cane- fields or sugar-works meet the sight, fcr it is a part of the country altogether devoted to pasture. There are gentle glades and undulating hills, where waves the luxuriant Guinea grass, intro- duced into the country by a slave-ship from Africa in a way that may be called accidental, and proving a rich and invaluable boon to the planters. There are clumps of cedar and other valuable trees, giving a rich and park-like appear- ance to the landscape, interspersed with vast num- bers of the orange, now white with its delicate snowy blossoms, so fragrant and so pure. Here and there towers an ancient specimen of the wild cotton, whose giant stem, shooting up eighty or ninety feet, at length throws wide its massive The Martyr Missionary. 7 1 umbrageous limbs. Vast patches of woodland away in the distance diversify the scene, occa- sionally broken by openings of greater or less extent, marking spots where the emancipated negro has partly cleared the virgin land from the heavy timber which covered his newly purchased freehold, and where he has fixed his humble cot- tage, now that he has become an owner of the soil to which he was attached first as a slave, and then as an apprenticed laborer. Encircling the whole, and bounding the landscape, may be traced, through a pellucid atmosphere, the outline of im- mense ranges of mountains stretching far away, covered with forests, the growth of many cen- turies. All around is enchanting ; but the missionary's eye rests again upon the humble grave, and then, close at hand, upon the ruins of a mission chapel, and a dilapidated but still tenantable mission house, exhibiting a strange and sad contrast to the smiling beauty of the landscape, and telling, in their mournful desolation, with silent eloquence, of days when all bad passions were called into ex- ercise to oppose the faithful preaching of the truth. On this spot there stood a Christian sanctuary, built of the hard wood of the country, and capable of receiving from five to six hundred worshipers. Its walls once resounded with the proclamation of the glorious Gospel and the unrivaled hymns of the Wesleys, sung by hundreds still bearing the yoke of earthly masters, while, spiritually eman- cipated, they exulted in the liberty wherewith ^2 Romance Without Fiction. Christ had made them free. And there at one end of the house of God was the unpretending but sufficient house for the residence of the mis- sionary. A few uncovered rafters overhead, part of the framework of the floor, and several upright pieces of timber that once supported the roof, these only remain of the attractive and commo- dious house of prayer that formerly adorned this place, inviting the sable sons and daughters of Africa to come and join in the worship of the Holy One, who " hath made of one blood all na- tions of men for to dwell on all the face of the earth." And the pleasant dwelling, though still partly inhabited, is but the wreck of what it was years ago, before this lovely station was made desolate by persecution, stirred up by a slave op- pressor, whose position as rector of the parish im- parts a deeper turpitude to cruelties and atrocities suffered by his own and other people's slaves at his hands or through his instigation. As the visitor stands there at the lonely tomb until the sun disappears behind the distant hills, and the fast-receding splendors amid which the glorious orb has dipped beneath the distant western wave admonish him that the time has come for re- mounting his horse, he is busy with memories, both pleasing and painful, associated with the history of that desecrated sanctuary and the martyr's grave. The scenes of by-gone days rise in a vivid light to his mind, like a series of dis- solving views, awakening mingled emotions of in- dignation and sympathy, but all merging in pro- The Martyr Missionary. 73 found gratitude to Him, the Wise and Good, who hath made " the wrath of man to praise " him, while " the remainder of wrath " he hath " re- strained." Let some of these changing scenes pass in review before us. A meeting is held in the humble chapel at Spanish Town, the capital of the colony, called by the Spaniards Santiago de la Vega, where are situated the princely residence of the governor, and an extensive suite of government buildings and offices, in the midst of which stands Rodney's temple, an ornamental structure erected to the honor of our naval hero of that name, and in- tended to commemorate the victories he gained in these western seas. The temple is adorned with a costly marble statue of the admiral, and several massive guns taken from the captured or sunken ships of the enemy. The meeting which is gomg on in the humble place of worship is not one of the regular services, but a meeting held by the choir for practicing tunes to be sung in the public ordinances of the church. Attracted by the music, a gentleman enters the building and quietly takes a distant seat, listening with evident interest. When the little assembly of harmonists breaks up the stranger does not retire ; but after their departure he advances, and apologizing for the apparent intrusion, introduces himself to the missionary as Mr. Stephen Drew, a barrister, re- siding on his own estate in St. Ann's parish, called Belmont. In the conversation that follows the minister discovers that his new acquaintance is 74 Romance Without Fiction. not a stranger to religious influences and religious feelings, and it transpires, all the more interest- ingly and pleasingly because so unusual among the planters of Jamaica, that he has adopted the practice of reading prayers among his slaves every Sabbath morning, and that he usually accompanies this service with one of Wesley's sermons. This pleasant interview, destined to lead to many very important results, ends with the expression, on the part of the stranger, of a desire to have his slaves instructed in the great truths of the Gospel by Wesleyan ministers, and a polite and earnest re- quest that the missionary will favor him with a speedy visit at his residence in the mountains. An early opportunity is taken by the Spanish Town minister to comply with the invitation, and after a ride of about forty miles through most romantic and magnificent scenery, he arrives at Belmont and receives a warm welcome. During this first short visit the missionary opens his com- mission among the inhabitants of St. Ann's parish by preaching every evening to the family of his host and the slaves resident on the " pen " (it would be called a grazing farm in England or America) the welcome tidings of salvation through the atonement of Jesus. It is the first time that wide-spread parish has seen a Christian minister preaching to a congregation of slaves, for all are slaves except the master and his family, and two or three white officials who have the direction and oversight of the property. It is true there is a parish church, but this is small, and ten miles distant. The Martyr Missionary. 75 Nor was it built with a view to the instruction of the negro race, but for the white inhabitants, these only being regarded as under the pastoral care of the island clergy. As to the man who officiates there, his claim to the designation of a Christian minister is more than questionable, for all that ever was Christian about him is sunk and lost in the brutal and callous slaveholder, of which class he exhibits the worst type, while the owner of Belmont is an example of the most indulgent and the best. After a few days' visit, which has awakened a considerable interest in the neighborhood, the mis- sionary retraces his path to his home in the low, hot, dusty town of Santiago de la Vega, with pleas- ant memories of the journey, and the new friend- ships and associations he has formed. Some weeks later the impaired health of his wife induces him to accept a pressing invitation from his Belmont host and hostess to give the sufferer the benefit of a change to the cool and more salubrious cli- mate of the St. Ann's mountains. Removed thither by gentle stages, the sinking invalid in that pleasant region recruits her wasted energies ; and soon the pallid, sunken cheek exhibits again as much of the bloom of health and youth as is usually to be found within the tropics. Mean- while, her husband is diligently spreading the truth among the enslaved population around. ■ He can gain no access to them on the week-day, beyond the boundary of his friend's estate; but on the Sab- bath a multitude of the poor slaves flock from all ^6 Romance Without Fiction. the surrounding country, having heard of the min- ister who is preaching at Belmont ; some influenced by curiosity, but many eager to hear about the Crucified, and the heaven of joy and love which they may gain through his merits, after the unre- quited toils and wasting hardships of their present unenviable lot shall have passed away. The mis- sionary's wife, too, devotes her rapidly increasing strength to the instruction of these dark children of Africa — dark in mind as in complexion — with the full sanction of their God-fearing owner, who is anxious that his bondmen and bondwomen may share with himself the joyous hopes of life and im- mortality beyond the grave. The blessed seed of the kingdom, cast among the enslaved children of Ham, has generally found a genial and fruitful soil. And there is no exception here. Dark eyes glisten with mingled emotions, and dark faces stream with copious tears, as the man of God dwells on the story of the cross, and expatiates on God's wondrous love to the lowliest and guiltiest of the sinful race — the slave as well as the free, the black man as well as the white, all equally in- terested in the atonement which love has provided. The melodies of the Methodist poet, sung by clear and tuneful voices, now begin to be heard in the cottages around, and earnest supplication, in sim- ple, broken language, goes up from many a retreat amid these pleasant vales and mountains, where the voice of prayer was never heard before. The power of the word has been felt in not a few weary hearts, and with a ready faith the blessings of The Martyr Missionary. 77 salvation have been appropriated. In a word, souls have passed from death unto life ; so that, on New Year's day, thirty to forty, professing faith in the blood of Christ, and experiencing its cleansing power, are baptized in the name of the ever- blessed Trinity. Thus are laid the foundations of a Church destined to pass through many trials and triumphs, the master and mistress of the pro- perty being enrolled among its earliest members ; for they also have obtained, through believing, "the peace which passeth all understanding." Before the missionary returns to his own appointed sphere of labor in the capital, after a sojourn of three months in St. Ann's, an arrangement is con- cluded for this new station to be visited on one Sabbath in six weeks, to the great joy of many, who hope to have a missionary ere long stationed in their own parish. Three years pass away. Through the occasion- al visits of the missionaries, and the zealous labors of the Christian proprietor of Belmont, (now be- come an efficient local preacher,) many souls have been brought to God; societies, more or less promising, have been established ; and preaching- aouses have been opened at several other places in ihe parish, chiefly along the coast. And the time has arrived for taking measures in order to the more permanent establishment of the mission at Belmont, by the erection of suitable buildings for public worship, and for a missionary's residence ; so that the growing work of God in this part of the island maybe placed under the immediate pastoral i 78 Romance Without Fiction. oversight. The estate is so held by its present occupant and owner, that the concurrence of his children, who are all minors, is necessary to convey an absolute right to any portion of it ; which, therefore, cannot be legally done till they have at- tained their majority. In hope that either himself or his wife, if not both, may survive that period, or that, at all events, he maybe able to effect such arrangements as will finally secure the property for the object contemplated, a suitable piece of land is conveyed to the society at Belmont, not of much value to the estate itself, though a most ac- ceptable gift to them. This is accompanied by a donation of the timber necessary for the buildings, and after considerable delay the several erections are commenced. Pecuniary difficulties arise, so that years elapse before the undertaking is com- pleted. But these difficulties are at length surmounted ; and, to the unbounded joy of a mul- titude of the sable and oppressed denizens of the parish, a commodious sanctuary, and a pleasant house adjoining, are made ready to serve the purpose of their erection. And there the work of the Lord abundantly prospers. It is a center of Gospel light and influence, with radiations sweep- ing over many miles around. Hundreds of souls are there born of God, and set free from the mis- erable thraldom of sin. On the Sabbath morning the whole country is enlivened, as numbers of the enslaved peasantry in their best attire, and not a few of the free colored inhabitants, wend their way in the direction of Belmont, reminding the be- The Martyr Missionafy. y<^ holder of the beautiful words of a Hebrew prophet : " And many people shall go and say, Come ye, and let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the house of the God of Jacob; and he will teach us of his ways, and we will walk in his paths." Isa. ii, 3- For several years this work has gone on without interruption, though scanned by some with an evil and suspicious eye ; the character of Mr. Drew, and his influence in the parish, being sufficient to restrain the spirit of persecution, until many of the new converts have become established in grace. But there is one hard-hearted man, whose talents, and position as rector, give him great power to work mischief. From the beginning this man has watched the progress of the Methodist mission with jealous and malignant feelings, which only wanted an opportunity for development ; and his influence has been covertly exerted to arouse among his parishioners a spirit of like hostility. These efforts, entirely at variance with the spirit proper to his sacred office, combined with the ex- ample of other persecutors, who have caused the death of the Missionary Smith in Demerara, and demolished the Wesleyan chapel in Barbadoes, have not been without fruit ; and there now exists an amount of bitterness and hatred, among the planters of St. Ann's parish, well calculated to pro- duce similar results in Jamaica when a favorable opportunity shall arise. The first indication of this bad feeling is seen in the refusal of the magis- trates to license two missionaries appointed to 8o Romance Without Fiction. labor in the parish ; these functionaries assuming to themselves the power (which, according to a subsequent decision of the highest legal author- ities of the island, they had no right to do) of re- quiring every missionary to take out a separate license for the parish, and of refusing such license at their pleasure. This being assumed in every other parish, the missionaries are subjected to most vexatious restrictions. The effect in the present case is to deprive St. Ann's, for awhile, of a resident missionary. During this time one of the brethren, (Mr. Ratcliffe,) who has already ob- tained a license authorizing him to preach in the parish, devotes to it much of his labor, although residing at a distance of some forty miles, until he is enabled so far to free himself from other en- gagements as to take up his abode for a year or two in St. Ann's. Thus the plans of the perse- cutors are frustrated. But the spirit of intolerance has become increasingly rampant ; and, before leaving his fruitful field of toil, this peaceable min- ister of Jesus Christ, and his family, narrowly escape the violence of a gang of ruffians insti- gated to the outrage by the slaveholding rector ! Mr. Ratcliffe, whose name is precious wherever he has labored, is succeeded by a younger min- ister holding no license from the magistrates of St. Ann's. He does not, however, think himself called upon to desist from his sacred labor until the arrival of the quarter-sessions, but commences preaching at all the stations, intending to apply to the court at its next sitting. In the person of one of The Martyr Missionary. 8 1 the parish functionaries, who combines in himself the offices of head-constable and master of the workhouse and jail, (both places of punishment,) is exhibited one of the worst types of humanity ; a man rendered callous and brutal, to an extraor- dinary degree, by doing the will of the slavehold- ers in punishing the unfortunate slaves, until he actually feels a savage delight in witnessing and inflicting suffering. The payment of a small fee is all that is necessary to secure at his hands, and to any extent, the punishment of a slave sent for the purpose. In him the rector finds a willing and unscrupulous agent for gratifying his own malignity toward those who are seeking to meliorate the sad condition of the masses in the parish, by diffusing among them the blessed light of the Gospel. The constable-jailer first attempts to silence the man of God by threats, but in vain. Then, when the missionary applies to the court of quarter-sessions, he opposes him there, and represents to the mag- istrates that this Methodist preacher has set the law at naught by preaching without a license ; although there is, in fact, no law rendering it necessary to obtain a license in any other part of the island, when, in compliance with the British Toleration Act, the oaths have been taken in one parish, which the missionary has done. But the designs of this evil-minded man and his employer are baffled by the influence of the ctcstos, the Hon. Henry Cox, who has not come under the unholy influence diffused through the parish, and whose knowledge of Mr. Drew, and of the labors of the 82 Romance Without Fiction. missionaries, enables him more correctly to esti- mate the benefits which they are conferring both upon the enslaved people and their owners. The custos succeeds in bringing over the other magis- trates to his own views; the missionary is allowed to take the oaths ; and, having paid somewhat ex- orbitant fees to the officers of the court, he takes his departure with a certificate which recognizes his right to exercise his ministry throughout the parish of St. Ann. Defeated in this attempt to break up the re- ligious services of the Methodists at Belmont and elsewhere, the constable is frequently to be found hovering about the chapel doors, abusing and threatening the poor slaves as they enter or leave the house of prayer, and reporting their attendance there to the overseers of the several estates to which they belong ; thus causing them, in some instances, to be cruelly punished by their task- masters. But the malign influence of the rector is at work in another direction. Many times the legislature of the island has enacted laws with a view to suppress the labors of the missionaries among the slaves ; but as often have these wicked attempts been neutralized by the vigilance of Christian friends in England, and by the liberal feeling of the home Government. However cun- ningly constructed, the oppressive enactments have been uniformly disallowed by the sovereign in council. But again this engine of mischief is set to work, and all the art and address of the clever rector are brought to the task of so draw- The Martyr Missionary. 83 ing up an act, which is to break up the missions as to insure the approval of the Government at home. A law is framed, consisting of nearly a hundred clauses, professedly to improve the con- dition of the slaves, and to secure to them various advantages and indulgences. Among these is a provision to make slave evidence admissible in certain cases — a concession hitherto sternly and indignantly refused by the local legislature. But all this is intended as the vehicle for passing into the authority of established law (as nurses dis- guise medicine for children in that which is agreeable to the palate) other provisions of a most intolerant character, which go to deprive the negroes of all religious rights — provisions which make punishable with heavy fine or imprisonment the assembling of slaves between sunset and sun- rise for religious instruction by any persons, not of the Established Church, professing to be teach- ers of religion ; excepting, in most distinct terms, Jews and Roman Catholics ! — while Presbyterians and " licensed ministers " are allowed to hold serv- ices as late as eight o'clock in the evening. It is also made a crime for slaves to give any instruc- tion to each other; a clause evidently designed to restrain slaves from acting as class-leaders. Moreover it is proposed to punish missionaries who receive contributions from slaves for any pious or charitable purposes whatsoever. This " nev/ consolidated slave law," as it is called, is nothing more or less than a deep plot, the off- spring of the fertile brain of the rector, to entrap 6 84 Romance Without Fiction. his majesty's Government into concurrence with a system of persecution and of great cruelty. For, what could be more cruel than to take from the sons and daughters of oppression their only solace under the iron yoke and shut them up to all the consequences of ignorance ? But the persecutors have " reckoned within their host." The gay duke, representing his maj- esty in this colony, shows himself quite ready to indorse and sanction their attempt to add bitter- ness to the lot of the oppressed, under the hypo- critical pretense of conferring benefits upon them. But, to give it permanence, the act must have also the approval of the king in council ; and his maj- esty's ministers are not so easily deceived as the rector of St. Ann's, and his brother conspirators against the rights and liberties of their fellow-men, suppose. There is in the Colonial Office one who has occupied a seat there for many years as a principal clerk under several administrations — a man whose large heart warmly sympathizes with the slaves and their persecuted instructors, and who is thoroughly awake to all the finesse and hypocrisy of colonial legislation. The profession of the Jamaica Legislature to be concerned about improving the condition of the slave goes with him for as much as it is worth. It is justly regarded as an index to evil at work. He knows them and Iheir proclivities well. At once his eagle glance penetrates the real design of this elaborate enact- ment, and all its cruelty and treachery lie open to his view : for long experience in colonial affairs The Martyr Missionary. 85 has taught him how easy it will be for the planters, when once their real object in preventing negro instruction by the missionaries is secured by law, to reduce to a dead letter every thing that is made to wear a kind and indulgent aspect toward the slaves. In addition, there is the masterly intellect of Richard Watson at the Mission House in Lon- don ; and his powerful pen lays bare the deformity and wickedness of this piece of colonial legislation, in the protest of the Missionary Committee laid before his majesty's council.^ In a short time (far shorter than is usually occupied in the dis- posal of a colonial bill ) a dispatch arrives in Jamaica, bearing the honored name of Huskisson, which disallows the " new consolidated slave law," and embodies such comments as prove that its real character, however well disguised, is under- stood and appreciated by the ministers of the crown. The covert invasion of that religious liberty to which all subjects of the British crown are entitled — the attempt to prevent all mutual instruction among the slaves — the prohibition of religious meetings between sunset and sunrise, amounting in many cases to a prohibition of re- ligious worship altogether, especially in the case of domestic slaves — the invidious distinction set up between Protestant Nonconformists and Jews and Roman Catholics — and the attempt to forbid by law to the slave what is required of all by New Testament precept, (namely, the contributing for pious and charitable uses,) are pointed out, and commented on, in terms that are gall and 86 Romance Without Fiction. wormwood to the baffled authors of this nefarious plot. And the dispatch, so worthy the heart and head of a Christian statesman, concludes with an impressive mandate to the Governor-General, in- tended to guide him and all his successors in that high station, and to prevent the coming into oper- ation, even for a short season, of any such act : " I cannot too distinctly impress upon you that it is the settled purpose of his majesty's Government to sanction no colonial law which needlessly infrifiges on the religious liberty of any class of his majesty s subjects ; and you will understand that you are not to asse?it to any bill imposing a?iy restraint of that fiature^ unless a clause be inserted for suspending its operation until his majesty's pleasure shall be known." But, while the wretched " law " has been slowly traveling to Europe and back; (there being no fleet of massive steamers as yet traversing the broad Atlantic,) and during the time it had been under discussion at the Colonial Office, it has come into temporary operation in Jamaica, and eager advantage is taken of it in many parts of the island, but especially in St. Ann's, to harass and persecute the religious instructors of the slaves. The new " law " began to take effect on the loth of May ; and, before the month expires, Mr. Grimsdall, the missionary resident at Belmont, being the sec- ond who has occupied the new house there, is summoned before the magistrates in special ses- sion, to answer complaints preferred by the con- stable. It is alleged that he has preached in an The Martyr Missionary. 8y unlicensed house at Ocho Rios, and has also preached to a company of slaves at unlawful hours — that is, after sunset. He obeys the sum- mons. To the first charge the accused replies, that foi about three years the house in question has been used as a place of religious worship ; but that, to meet the requirements of the new law, he has done all that was practicable in the case, having sent in a certificate to the clerk of the peace, showing that the house is intended to be still used as formerly, and conveying an application that it should be accordingly registered at the court of quarter-sessions. The three magistrates upon the bench require that he shall cease to use the house for religious purposes until it has been duly licensed by this court. He is very well convinced that this is only a scheme to put an end to the services in that place altogether, (Herein, as it turns out, he is quite right ; for, when the quarter-sessions arrive, the magistrates assume and exercise the illegal power of refusing to " record " the house.) However, as it will in- volve no more than the cessation of the services for a few weeks, he submits to this arbitrary stretch of authority, and consents to abstain from preaching at Ocho Rios until the court of quarter- sessions has been held. In dealing with the charge of preaching to slaves at unlawful hours, the ac- cused refers to the very clause of the law under which the complaint has been made ; and shows, what is very clear, that /n's case forms one of the exceptions there mentioned, inasmuch as he is a 8S Romance Without Fiction. duly licensed minister — licensed in the parish — and therefore entitled, by the new law itself, to con- tinue religious service until eight o'clock ; beyond which hour, even the accuser testified, those exer- cises were not continued. But he has to do with men who do not scruple to make the law bend to their own bad purposes and prejudices. It was predetermined that the Methodist preacher should go to jail, or pay a fine of twenty pounds at least ; and, refusing to gratify these gentlemen by paying down this amount of his own or the Society's money, to jail he is accordingly sent, committed by S. W. Rose, B. W. Smith, and David Brydon — occupants, if not ornaments, of the bench — for " teaching and preaching to slaves, at improper and unlawful hours, contrary to the true intent and meaning of the law now in force." In the custody of the constable the missionary is led to prison, one of the most filthy and noisome of all the loathsome prisons of Jamaica. The upper story of the jail is divided into four apart- ments, two of which are used as the parish hos- pital, the partition walls not rising to the ceiling, but only part of the way, and surmounted with open lattice work, so that the unwholesome efflu- via from the hospital float freely through all the apartments. One of the other two rooms is as- signed to the missionary, while the second is crowded with prisoners. The four rooms occupy a space of thirty-five feet by twenty-five. Under- neath, and separated only by a single-boarded floor, are cells occupied by three men under sentence of The Martyr Missionary. 89 death, and by a crowd of prisoners, chiefly negroes, who are awaiting their trial foi various offenses at the quarter-sessions. There is but one window to the missionary's cell, and that is so situated as to render the place almost intolerable. It is only by the free use of strong camphorated spirit that he can overcome the nausea with which he is as- sailed all through the evening and the night. Ten long nights and days he endures this cruel con- finement, after which he is set at liberty, with health broken, and physical energies much ex- hausted. As it is the blessed Sabbath he bends his footsteps at once to the chapel, not far distant, where, enfeebled as he is, he conducts both the public services of the day, rejoicing, with his af- flicted, sympathizing flock, in the grace by which he has been sustained while suffering for his Mas- ter's sake. On the Monday he reaches his resi- dence at Belmont. Delightful is the change from that dreary prison to a sweet mountain home, and precious are the fresh and fragrant breezes which greet him there, where many sable hundreds tes- tify by their tears the deepest condolence with their beloved minister, and with extravagant dem- onstrations welcome his return to his family and to them. Having consented to abstain from preaching in the house at Ocho Rios until the quarter-sessions shall afford him the opportunity of having the place recorded for the purpose, he refrains from conducting any public service there, willing to conciliate prejudice by submitting for a season to \ 90 Romance Without Fiction. an illegal restriction. At the proper time he pre- sents himself before the magistrates, when the ciistos, who presides at the sessions, and another of the magistrates, express themselves in favor of registering the house at Ocho Rios, and granting the certificate. But the adverse influence of the rector has been at work, and there is a large as- semblage of magistrates who have been drawn to join the ranks of the persecutors, and have come to- gether for the sake of putting down the Methodist preachers. The custos is outvoted, and the court decides upon refusing to grant any certificate. This amounts to a decision that the services at Ocho Rios, which have continued for some years, shall be brought to a close, and the people in that neighborhood deprived of sacred ordinances. The missionary is a man of meek and humble spirit, but also of courage. He is satisfied that these men have no legal authority for what they do, and, having shown his respect for what they choose to regard as law, and satisfied the Tolera- tion Act, he concludes that he has done all that Christian duty and a good conscience require of him in the matter. And now, after much prayer, he resolves to obey God rather than men, and to refuse submission to a cruel intolerance that would leave dark multitudes around him to perish in their ignorance and sin. Accordingly he resumes the usual services all through the circuit, com- mending himself and his cause to God, and calmly awaiting the result, prepared to bring to a legal test, if need be, the authority assumed by the The Martyr Missionary. 91 magistrates of St. Ann's. For some weeks he is suffered to go on unmolested, he and his brethren earnestly and confidently looking forward to the time when his majesty's disallowance of the per- secuting law now in operation shall be signified to the governor. The rector and the magistrates also have some fearful anticipations of a similar kind, having probably received through the agent in London some intimation of the doom which ig impending at the Colonial Office over this offspring of their intolerance, and while the unrighteous law is still operative, they resolve to strike another blow. One day, during service at Ocho Rios, the missionary and congregation see the repulsive countenance of peering into the chapel and around it. This is justly regarded as an omen of evil, for the presence of that man, like some bird of prey, augurs nothing that is good. No one, therefore, is surprised that on the following day the missionary finds himself again in the custody of this spy, to be carried before the magistrates on the old charge of preaching to slaves in an unli- censed house, with the additional complaint of having married one slave to another without con- sent of the owner. The magistrates are, for the most part, as before, pliant and illiterate tools of the slaveholding rector. In vain the prisoner pleads that he has done all the law requires, and that, the house being certified, it is the fault of the magistrates themselves that it is not recorded, they having exercised an illegal power in refusing his application. In vain he pleads that he has 92 Romance Without Fiction. violated no law by marrying the slave to the ob- ject of her choice, since none exists in the colony referring to marriage at all. (He might have added that, until the missionaries introduced it, marriage was little known among any class of the people, and among slaves and colored people quite unknown.) As in the former case, the magistrates have come together to do only what they and their friend the rector had already resolved upon, and the persecuted servant of Christ is again handed over to ruffianly keeping, and taken back to the same unwholesome cell with which he is already familiar. The place is indescribably odious, and produces loathing, which he seeks to counteract, as before, by the use of camphorated spirit, and other simi- lar means. This time he is committed for trial at the sessions, and not for a definite term of impris- onment. Bail is, therefore, sought and tendered for his appearance before the court ; but difficul- ties are thrown in the way, and it is not until after the lapse of several days that the bail is accepted, and the suffering prisoner set at liberty. It is, alas ! too late to save his life. He has never fully recovered from the effects of his former imprison- ment. The deadly poison, inhaled during ten days' close confineiiient, is still lurking in his veins, corrupting the vital fluid, and weakening tlie citadel of life ; and now, every hour that he breathes that polluted atmosphere, the subtle venom diffused through his system is quickened into activity, his strength is rapidly diminishing, The Martyr Missionary. 93 and he is being hurried to the grave. It is, doubt- less, the report of the prisoner's failing health made by the jailer that induces the magistrates to accept the proffered bail. Had he remained within those prison walls a day or two longer he would scarcely have survived to pass through the gates. As it is, more serious effects than those of many years of wasting toil have been produced by a few days' imprisonment. Faint and exhausted, and almost dying, he is borne back to his mount- ain home, to leave it no more till he ascends to that better home above, " the palace of angels and God." The cool and balmy air of the uplands re- vives him a little, and for a short time he seems likely to rally ; but the seeds of fatal disease are within him, and the king of terrors has been per- mitted to mark him as his prey. The poison which has undermined all the powers of life is developed in a lingering fever, such as no medical skill can check, and it soon becomes evident to his weeping young wife that she must shortly be a widow, and her infant fatherless. Friends sur- round the bed of death, and do all that love can dictate for the relief of the sufferer. At intervals, when delirium ceases, he speaks sweetly of the all- sufficiency of Divine grace, and the preciousness of the sprinkled blood, until on the fifteenth day, waving his hand in triumph, and with a counte- nance all radiant, this witness for the Lord, while yet in the prime of youthful manhood, passes to the blessed spirit-land, to be numbered among those glorified ones who have resisted unto blood, 94 Romance Without Fiction. and counted not their lives dear unto themselves, so that they might finish their course with joy. On the following day, amid the tears and lamentations of white and black, bond and free, the deserted clay is laid in that lowly grave, which afterward discolored by time, met the eye of the traveler amid the ruins of the mission station at Belmont. These things might not have been had it pleased unerring Providence to spare the life of the Chris- tian owner of these broad lands. But that good man has been sleejDing in his family vault nearly a year, and his ransomed spirit is enjoying an end- less rest. Methodism found him " floating upon a sea of skepticism," believing nothing, fearing every thing, and proving the bitter truth of those words of heavenly wisdom, though he knew them not, " The wicked are like the troubled sea, when it cannot rest, whose waters cast up mire and dirt." The first sermon he heard from a mission- ary's lips, (on John iii, 3,) before he sought the interview related in the foregoing pages, made a deep impression on his heart. Through God's blessing upon it that discourse let in a flood of light, altogether new, on his bewildered mind. It reached his conscience, and awakened it to an activity long unknown. It produced what he had never felt or imagined before — " The godly fear, the pleasing smart, The meltings of a broken heart." And soon his doubts were solved, and all the dark clouds of skepticism dispersed, when he came, a The Martyr- Alissionary. 95 self-condemned sinner, to Jesus, and by simple faith obtained "redemption through his blood, even the forgiveness of sins." At once he took active part in the Lord's service. Defying re- proach and opposition, he opened the way for the establishment of a mission station in the parish Avhere he lived, rejoiced over the conversion of his wife and daughter and the Christian instruc- tion of his slaves, became himself a devoted class- leader and local preacher, gave land and timber for mission buildings on his own estate, and also at St. Ann's Bay, and boldly vindicated the truth which had been to him " the power of God unto salvation " both in the pulpit and with the pen,* as well as by the silent, powerful eloquence of a blameless, benevolent, and holy life. How in- scrutable is the Providence which took away such a man at such a time ! Had his life been pro- longed he would have stood by the persecuted missionary, and there is little doubt that his influ- ence in the parish, as a magistrate greatly respect- ed, added to his eminent legal ability, would have been more than a match for the cunning of the rec- tor and all his associates. He had been failing in * Mr. Drew was the author of a well- written work, in two octavo volumes, entitled, " Principles of Self-knowledge ; or, an Attempt to Demonstrate the Truth of Christianity, and the Efficacy of Experimental Religion, against the Cavils of the Infidel and the Objections of the Formalist." These volumes passed through the press under the supervision of the well- known Samuel Drew, A.M., but their author did not live to see them in print. 96 Romance Without Fiction. vigor for some time, but the wicked outrage by which it was attempted to destroy the lives of Mr. Ratclifife and his family at St. Ann's Bay, by means of a gang of ruffians, had called forth all Mr. Drew's energies to trace and bring to punish- ment the lawless band, some of whom were well known. Having, in his capacity of magistrate, set matters in train for a thorough investigation, he returned home, but it was to die, his exertions having probably exceeded what his sinking health could endure. Before the inquiry could be pushed to any important result his little remaining strength finally gave way, and, to the grief of the mission- aries, and the still deeper distress of his excellent wife and family, he passed away in blessed triumph to the Church before the throne. Just before he had put forth literally a dying effort in singing the beautiful words — " I know that my Redeemer lives, And ever prays for me ; A token of his love he gives, A pledge of liberty." Among other utterances on his death bed, he said to one of the missionaries, who was express- ing his regret that one so useful should be taken away at such a crisis, " I am but a poor worm ; there is no room for boasting. I cannot look to any thing that I have done. The whole science of divinity is compressed into a very narrow com- pass: " * I the chief of sinners am, But Jesus died for me ! ' " Tlie Martyr Missionary. 97 Mr. Drew has left behind him a family of chil- dren, and a widow like-minded with himself, who enters fully into all the plans of large-hearted be- nevolence which he formed and partly executed. A lady of energetic and well-cultivated mind, she carries on, with excellent results, the management of the estate. But how dark and inexplicable are God's ways ! Only one short year has elapsed since the martyred Grimsdall was laid in his "narrow cell" — two years since her husband ascended to the skies — when, after a brief illness, this excellent lady is summoned to rejoin her be- loved companion in the better land, and an orphan family is left to deplore an irreparable loss. When this new affliction occurs persecution is still rag- ing, and the rector and magistrates, stung almost to madness by the disallowance of their malevo- lent " slave law," are imprisoning missionaries, and stretching their authority b^ond all bounds in defiance alike of justice and of law. The pain- ful bereavement meanwhile brings a still darker cloud over the prospects of the mission, and gives the rector fresh opportunities of pursuing his de- signs. The estate and affairs of Belmont (the children being mostly young) fall into the hands of an executor or trustee who has no sympathy with the religious views of Mr. Drew. Had the excellent widow's life been prolonged until all her children attained their majority (the thing too fondly anticipated) there is little doubt that they would have become parties to the deed of con- veyance required for finally securing the land on r 98 Romance Without Fiction. which the mission premises were erected, both at Behnont and St. Ann's Bay. But, unhappily, an opportunity is now presented for reclaiming the land and driving the " sectarians " from the parish, a chance which may not be allowed to pass away unimproved. The land is of little intrinsic value, and there would be no unwillingness to indemnify the estate held on trust for the children's benefit by giving compensation to the largest amount at which it could be fairly appraised. But the trustee is fully under the influence of the rector, who will be satisfied with nothing less than wrest- ing the property out of the hands of the Method- ists. The premises have now become valuable, for many hundreds of pounds, contributed partly by the poor slaves from what their small provision grounds have yielded, but chiefly by the Society in London, have been expended in erecting those neat and commodious buildings — chapel, dwelling, etc. — which adorn the station. But what cares that man (minister of a just and holy religion though he professes to be) for the unrighteousness of laying violent hands on the property of others to which the estate could have no moral claim ? If the religious services there instituted for the good of the negroes can be broken up he will re- joice as one that findeth great spoil The demand to vacate and give up the mission property, chapels, residence and all, both at Bel- mont and St. Ann's Bay, is in due course made. Before that is complied with the best legal advice to be had in the island is taken, and the conclu- \ The Martyr Missionary. 99 sion is reached, that it is most advisable, on the whole, not to risk in costs of uncertain litigation money which may afford material help in provid- ing other places of worship. To the very deep sorrow of hundreds, the beautiful station at Bel- mont, and the premises at St. Ann's Bay, are ulti- mately abandoned. But the chief designs of the persecutors are not accomplished, nor is the work of the Lord entirely frustrated. The poor people, hundreds of whom were " born for glory " on that spot, having there heard the joyful sound of that truth which makes men spiritually free, weep and mourn over the loss of their pleasant sanctuary, and of some of the means of grace ; but the mission is not broken up, as its enemies confidently expected. The great Head of the Church raises up instruments suited to the accomplishment of his own purposes. So it is in this case. The martyred Grimsdall has been succeeded by a missionary not easily daunted or discouraged. With quiet yet earnest resolution, ready to endure or to do any thing the occasion may require, he confronts the opposers, and addresses himself to the emergency of this case, cheering the hearts of the suffering people, not only to the point of patient endurance, but of joyful hope. After some difficulty he succeeds in obtaining for hire a house (or, rather, what looks very much like the half of a house which has been cut in two) called " Blackheath," within two or three miles of Belmont. It is sufficient for the accommodation of his own family, but not to receive the large 7 joo RoMAN'CE Without Fiction. congregation wont to assemble in the chapel. In the adjacent pasture, however, there are majestic trees, whose wide-spreading branches afford a delightful protection from the scorching sun-rays. And here, Sabbath after Sabbath, the people as- semble, bond and free ; not discouraged, though a heavy shower, such ag Europeans seldom witness, sometimes sends them dripping to their homes. The surrounding hills echo with their songs of praise; and, sitting all around the minister upon the grass, they listen with moist and eager eyes to the truth that saves. The novelty of this open field worship, and the sympathy felt with the con- gregation driven from its place of worship, bring additional numbers from all the country round to attend these pleasant services, and the power of Jehovah is there to slay and to save. Beneath the thick branches of those fine cedars, many hearts are pierced with conviction of sin, and not a few are brought into the glorious liberty of the children of God. It is a reanimating scene; one of great rural beauty, and of more than earthly grandeur ; a scene over which seraphs might hover with ecstatic joy. There is a congregation large- ly made up of negro slaves, in clean but humble apparel, bowing before God, and learning the way to heaven. Words cannot describe the eager at- tention with which they listen as the missionary expatiates, with thrilling eloquence, on the words, " What meanest thoa, O sleeper ? arise, call upon thy God, if so be that God will think upon us, that we perish not." Jonah i, 6. It is no The Martyr Missionary. loi fancy sketch. These eyes beheld it; and these ears listened there to a much-loved friend who discoursed on the text just cited, while *' thoughts that breathe, and words that burn," fell from lips now hushed in the silence of the grave. In process of time the ejected congregation obtain, through the liberality of English friends, the gift of a large tent, which is erected there in the pasture, affording shelter to as many as its dimensions will accommodate, when the clouds drop their fatness upon the earth. The persecu- tors have the mortification of seeing that the work they hate goes on more prosperously than ever. It becomes necessary to divide the congregation, for they gather in crowds from places miles dis- tant on either side. Divine Providence opens the way. Land is offered for sale in favorable locali- ties. Two beautiful and convenient sites are pro- cured, just in the midst of the people, some six or seven miles apart. It is no discouragement that for many months the divided congregation has to worship one part in the field, the other part in the forest, canopied by giant trees, until the arrange- ments for building are completed. At length, through the liberal contributions of the people on the spot, and of friends of missions in England, two neat, commodious, and substantial houses of prayer are reared, capable of containing at least three times as many as the desecrated sanctuary at Belmont. Thus God, in his boundless wisdom, evolves good out of the evil, and makes the wrath of man to praise him. Near the larger of these 102 Romance Without Fiction. two mountain sanctuaries stands the missionary's comfortable residence. The principal road through the island gracefully winds round the foot of the hill, passing between the mission house and chapel ; while the rural station, and the numerous cottages of the emancipated peasantry thickly studding the neighborhood all around, add new and lively features to a most beautiful landscape. But Belmont has gone to ruin. After the change of management it soon ceased to be the prosperous, productive estate it had been. Its rich herds of cattle no longer yielded any remunerative return ; the pasture walls became dilapidated, and were suffered to remain without repair; and the fine stone buildings fell into decay. But God has taken care of the orphan children. Of the chapel, in the rearing of which so many hearts were glad- dened, there are now only fragments. How different it was when hallowed as the place where Jehovah Jesus was worshiped ! How different it might Have been still ! Such are the thoughts of the missionary visitor as, awaking from the long rev- erie in which he has been indulging, he observes that the shades of evening are gathering darkly around him. Mounting his horse, and casting one more look upon the ruin, he turns away with saddened, chastened, grateful feeling, and bids a last farewell to the grave of the martyred MISSIONARY. Judgment Hill. 103 IV. Judgraent Hill. Oft o'er the Eden islands of the West, In floral pomp and verdant beauty drest, Rolls the dark cloud of God's awakened ire ; Thunder and earthquake, whirlwind, flood, and fire, 'Midst rcpUng mountains and disparting plains, Tell the pale world, " The God of vengeance reigns." MONTQOMEKY. (>o fN the interior of Jamaica, at no great distance from Kingston, the mercantile capital of the island, a spot is pointed out which bears the remarkable designation " The Judgment Hill,' from having been a little more than a half a cen- tury ago the scene of a startling catastrophe, which impressed many persons, who were but little accustomed to any thing like serious reflection, with the conviction that it is a fearful thing to brave the anger, and " fall into the hands, of the living God." In the more easterly of the parishes into which Jamaica is divided there are several wide river- courses, which collect and bear to the ocean the drainings of the majestic chain of mountains that lift their summits some seven or eight thousand feet above the level of the Caribbean Sea, which they overlook, and from which they are often, clearly visible to mariners at a distance of seventy 104 Romance Without Fiction. or eighty miles. One of these rivers, receiving the waterfall on the southern slope of the Port Royal and St. David's mountains, flows in a south-easterly direction for more than thirty miles. Ordinarily, in dry weather, the narrow stream of limpid water, formed by the contributions of many rivulets gurgling down the hollows and ravines between the hills, rushes with rapid current over the stony bottom of the deep channel, sufficiently shallow to be fordable at numerous points, and leaving a large portion of the river bed perfectly dry. But the immense boulders, and masses of smooth rock, scattered in vast numbers over the wide, gravelly bed of the river, being brought down by the force of the stream, and the torn and rugged banks on either side, bear silent witness to the irresistible power with which, in the wet season, the mighty mass of turbid water, swollen by a thousand rush- ing torrents, rolls on to its destination. Among the hills through which this river winds, and stretching along its banks, there is a planta- tion beautifully situated in a curve formed by the sinuosities of its course. The rich, Avell-tilled fields of the plantation, waving with the luxuriant sugar-cane, occupy the plain between the deep river-course and the foot of the hills. At a little distance from the stream, the buildings pertaining to the estate have been erected. Prominent among these is the great house occupied by the proprietor and his family ; and scattered around are the miserable huts of the slaves, upon whom devolves the weary, unrequited task of cultivating yiidgmcnt Hill. 105 for their owner several hundred acres of land which the estate comprises ; themselves shut up in densest ignorance, and knowing no enjoyment of life but that which they have in common with the mules and cattle, that share with them the wasting toil of the plantation. Immediately behind these several buildings there towers a lofty mountain, rising precipitately from the gentle slopes whereon the buildings stand, lifting its verdure-crowned head nearly a thousand feet to the clouds, and overshadowing the planta- tion buildings and the river. All kinds of rich tropical fruits, sheltered here from every unkindly blast, flourish in abundance, the mango, the orange, the shaddock, the star-apple, and the lime. Every hut is embowered in a grove of plantains and bananas, whose large velvet-like leaves afford a grateful shelter from the sun ; while the lofty plume of the cocoa-nut waves in graceful beauty above, and imparts to the whole scene a character of trop- ical luxuriance with which we may well associate the idea of an earthly paradise. Satan and sin obtained admission into Eden, and they have found an entrance here. Ungodli- ness and vice, in some of their foulest develop- ments, pervade the colony ; darkness prevails every-where, except where the few missionaries that are laboring in the midst of much hatred and opposition have diffused, in some measure, the light of the ever-blessed Gospel. All classes, masters and slaves, whites and blacks, are sunk in deep moral debasement together. But in this se- io6 Romance Without Fiction. eluded plantation, surrounded as it is with scenes of surpassing natural loveliness, there is a den of vice and pollution, to which no parallel can be found in all this wicked land. A monster of wickedness, who has given himself up to work all uncleanness with greediness, the owner of that lovely spot, has converted it into such a sink of loathsome, nameless depravity, that all the neigh- bors for miles around stand aloof from him and all that pertain to him, and hold no avoidable com- munication with the place. It is shunned by all classes of the people, as if a deadly pestilence were known to be raging there. In no country under heaven is there to be found less of every thing like prudery than here in Ja- maica. The moral standard is deplorably low; and vicious, licentious habits, disregard of moral obligations, and forgetfulness of God, are prevalent throughout the land. But here is a household so utterly abandoned and vile in their associations and habits that even the low degraded society of Jamaica scorns them as its outcasts, and turns away from them with loathing. No planter from the surrounding estates calls to take a friendly glass with the overseer, who is also the owner of the plantation. No neighbor goes to render friendly offices in time of sickness ; and even the medical man, who periodically visits the hot-house (the hospital) of the estates, and prescribes medicine for the slaves disabled by sickness from taking their usual place in the field, lingers not, as he does on all the other plantations he attends, Judgment Hill. 107 to dine or hold a carouse with the magnate of the estate. Year after year passes away, but still the man and his estate are shunned ; for the lapse of time only serves to develop more and more the God- defying wickedness which is not only practiced but boasted of there ; awakening more and more fully the indignation and disgust of all around to- ward the depraved denizens of that secluded habitation, among whom all decency and propriety are set at naught, and the natural relations and distinctions known in families are utterly con- founded and lost. There are some who look on the place with fear and trembling, as well as loathing ; half expecting that this den of wicked- ness, with its associations of depravity, will be dealt with in some such way as the Just and Holy One dealt with the guilty inhabitants of Sodom and Gomorrah. The owner of the plantation has become hoary in his evil career, and wealth has been increasing in his hands, serving only to promote strife and discord among the incestuous brood of which he is the head ; when the hand of Jehovah is lifted up, and that event occurs, the memorial of which is handed down in the designation that stands at the head of this paper. Jamaica has often been fearfully desolated by the hurricane and the earthquake, causing a lamentable destruction of property and life, and sometimes throughout vast districts changing the whole aspect of the country. It was on the i8th io8 Romance Without Fiction. and 19th of October, one of the months usually in- cluded in what is known as the hurricane season, when a destructive storm swept over the eastern parishes of the island, accompanied, as effects would seem to indicate, by severe shocks of earth- quake. A preternatural discharge of water from the heavens destroyed many sugar and coffee plan- tations, sweeping off all vegetation, or burying it, to the depth of many feet, beneath the earth and stones and sand which the descending torrents wash down from the neighboring mountains. The swollen rivers overflowed their banks, the rushing waters bearing all before them, and pro- ducing a scene of devastation, extending from shore to shore over a length of fifty miles, that defies all description. Many vessels were stranded on the coast ; and upon the land the victims of this struggle of the elements, who had the good fortune to escape with life, lost all their property. The descent of huge masses of earth and rock from the sides of the hills could be compared only to the avalanches in the valleys of the Alps; and the features of the country were so materially al- tered by the dynamic sweep of the floods, rivers, and water-courses, and all well-known landmarks so entirely obliterated, that survivors found great difiiculty in ascertaining, with any thing like cer- tainty, the true localities which they were entitled to call their own. This difficulty was modified by the great destruction of life occasioned by the hurricane; whole families being swept away, leaving no survivor to raise a question Judgment Hill. 109 concerning the titles and boundaries of their property. This is the case with the fine plantation occupy- ing so pleasant a site near the margin of the river, and converted into such a scene of impurity and wickedness by the abandoned family claiming it as their home. The morning of the day on which this appalling calamity passes over the land finds them, as many mornings have found them, all care- less and secure, without a thought of God, and without any idea of danger hovering near. Exten- sive fields are waving with the ripening canes. Trees laden with luscious fruit are all around. Large bunches of cocoa-nuts in every stage of growth hang from the ever-fruitful trees, which, by their continual productiveness, may well symbolize the Tree of Life in the vision of the apocalyptic writer, that yielded her fruit every month. The white buildings of the estate peep out through the openings of the trees, as with gentle, graceful mo- tion they yield to the pressure of the slightest movement of the air ; the whole landscape, with its alternations of hill and dale, exhibiting a scene of bright beauty, to be seen nowhere but in the regions situated within or near to the tropical lines. The next morning breaks upon a scene of desolation, exhibiting no traces of the earthly paradise on which the sun shed his fervent rays only a few hours before. It has been swept with the besom of destruction, and the plantation, with its buildings, its culti- vated fields and fruitful groves, its slaves and cat- no Romance Without Fiction. tie, whose toil extracted richness and wealth from the soil, together with the great house and all its miserable inhabitants, have been blotted from the face of the creation. The overthrow is as com- plete as that which overwhelmed the polluted cities of the plain. No living creature belonging to the place remains to tell the tale of woe, and scarcely a vestige of the once lovely estate is to be found. The center of the hurricane has passed over this vicinity, and its utmost violence has fallen upon the spot where the justice and purity of the Al- mighty has long been daringly outraged. The fair, cloudless, but oppressively sultry morning has been followed by the gathering of thick black banks of cloud upon the eastern sky, and the om- inous moaning of the wind, betokening the coming tempest — signs too well understood by the inhab- itants of tropical regions. As the sun slowly de- scends to the westward these precursors of coming evil become more decided and unmistakable, and at length the tornado bursts upon the land in all its desolating fury, a violence which can only be justly appreciated by those who have witnessed a West India hurricane. The danger is aggravated by the dense darkness of the night. Many are crushed beneath their falling dwellings, while numbers of lives are sacrificed in the attempt to gain through rushing torrents some desired place of refuge. But a peculiar catastrophe seals the fate of this plantation and its inhabitants. That to which yudgmejit Hill. ill they probably looked for safety becomes their destruction. Snugly sheltered beneath the shad- ows of the lofty mountain, they might well fancy themselves far less exposed to peril than many of their neighbors, whose habitations were open to the utmost fury of the elements. But uplifted by some invisible force — probably the stupendous power of the earthquake — during the midnight darkness, the mountain is moved from its founda- tions and thrown prostrate in wild confusion on the plain and into the river, burying beneath its enormous masses every building of the plantation, and every soul existing upon it. They, and all belonging to them, have disappeared from human ken, as if they had never been ; as when God, in his anger, caused the earth to open her mouth and swallow up Korah, Dathan, and Abiram ; and their houses, and all that appertained unto them, went down into the pit, and the earth closed upon them, and they perished miserably. So were this planter and his family, and all his goods, buried in a mo- ment out of sight of men, their immortal spirits passing suddenly to an unchanging doom, with all their sins and pollutions fresh upon them. To make the destruction more complete, the fallen mountain dammed up the river, already swollen to overflowing, until the mass of accumu- lated waters, forcing their own way, and making fresh channels for themselves, bear away in their desolating progress whatever the hurricane has failed to destroy. When morning dawns through the still raging tempest not a living creature re- 112 Romance Without Fiction. mains ; every trace of cultivation has disappeared, and the very outlines of the plantation have been so completely obliterated that it is difficult to tell exactly where it lay. All belonging to the estate that is not buried beneath the upturned mountain has been borne far away by the flood to the Carib bean Sea, except some carcases of human beings or beasts lodged in crevices or bushes by the rushing waters on their course, and left there to become the prey of the ravenous vulture. ** I will make thy grave; for thou art vile," Je- hovah said when Nineveh was rapidly filling up the measure of her iniquities ; and beneath the crumbling earth of her own massive walls and palaces he buried the city which had been the scene of so much that was abominable in his sight. And there, hidden in the dust from all human search, she remained during the lapse of many centuries, thus fulfilling his own faithful word : " The wicked shall be cut off from the earth, and the transgressors shall be rooted out of it." So in this instance, after many years of longsufifering and forbearance, his hand is lifted up against the evil- doers, and overwhelms them with such manifest tokens of a divine visitation that even in Jamaica, where there is little recognition of God, his justice in the event is acknowledged, and the scene of the catastrophe is distinguished by the designation of Judgment Hill. Tke Assassin. 113 V. The Assassin. Blood hath strange organs to (liscourae withal; It is a clam'rous orator, and then E'en nature will exceed herself to tell A crime so thwarting nature, — Gomessall. jURING seventeen years that I spent in (^^ Jamaica, extending over one of the most eventful periods of its history, it fell to my lot to reside for several years in the St. Ann's Mountains. St. Ann's is one of the north-side parishes, and, because of its surpassing loveliness, is frequently spoken of as " The Garden of Ja- maica." The designation is not, however, very well chosen, as its beautiful and varied scenery more resembles that of a wide-spread park than a garden, for it is the wild, impressive grandeur of nature that greets the eye rather than the elegance and beauty which speak of the taste and handi- work of man. The far-stretching forests, clothed with the perennial verdure of never-ending spring; the bold ranges of mountains, burying their lofty summits in the clouds; the green slopes and deep ravines; the vast pasture-fields, waving with lux- uriant Guinea grass, and studded with thousands of majestic cedars, varied by the rich orange or graceful pimento-tree, exhibit scenes of enchant- 114 Romance Without Fiction. ing interest to the traveler throughout most of this extensive parish, the garden-like scenery of which it can boast being confined to the narrow strip of land skirting the shore. Devoted to the culture of the sugar-cane, and marked here and there with the huge piles of building included in the works of the plantations, here are displayed more evident traces of human skill and toil than in that larger portion of the parish which is chiefly occupied by breeders of stock, and divided into cattle farms or pens, as such properties are usually called, and which are largely overspread with the fragrant pimento, yielding in rich abun- dance the " allspice " known to commerce. One of the peculiarities of this part of the island is the existence of numerous " sink-holes," large openings in the earth, communicating with subter- raneous passages by means of which the drainage of the towering hills — that in other parts of the island creates innumerable beautiful rivulets, forming in their aggregate considerable rivers — is borne off invisibly toward the coast ; where, bursting out from their mountain caverns, large streams, gath- ered in the bowels of the mountains, rush to the sea, exhibiting in several instances cascades of great majesty and beauty. These " sink-holes " are generally to be found deep down in some val- ley, the character of the ground around them plainly indicating their existence ; but occasion- ally such openings are to be met with on more level ground, where nothing whatever gives a sign of danger, grass and brush growing over the edges TJie Assassin. 115 of the aperture, and concealing it from observa- tion, until the unwary victim, apprehensive of no peril, steps over the brink of the treacherous chasm, and disappears to be seen no more. One or two instances occurred during my residence in the neighborhood, of sportsmen, eager in the pur- suit of game, being lost in this way — dropping in a moment from the very midst of life and enjoy- ment into a deep, unfathomable grave. In the south-western part of the parish there is such an opening to the subterranean passages in the mountains possessing a kind of historical in- terest, and visited by the curious as one of the lions of Jamaica. It is known as " Hutchinson's Hole," because of its association with one of those shocking tragedies which, being attended by cir- cumstances of unusual horror, stand out promi- nently and permanently in the annals of crime. Near to it is the ruin of what was formerly the residence of the individual who figured as the prin- cipal actor in the catalogue of atrocities which gave him an unenviable celebrity, and caused his name to be handed down to posterity as the designation of one of the most sanguinary monsters that ever de- lighted in the shedding of innocent blood. The ruin is still known as " Hutchinson's Tower." Accompanied by a friend, I devoted a day to visiting this somewhat celebrated spot. We mount- ed our horses after an early breakfast, and riding some two miles through very charming scenery, arrived at a center where several roads met, known as the " Finger-Post," from the fact that an article Ii6 Romance Without Fiction. of that description was erected there by the par- ish, to afford travelers useful information, long before the existence of the village now risen in the locality bearing the same name. Directing our course according to the indications of this si- lent monitor, we set our faces in the direction of " The Pedroes." For two or three miles our road lay through uncleared forest, here and there bro- ken in upon by the rude cottage of the negro set- tler, who, having after emancipation saved money sufficient to purchase a small freehold, had here set himself down with his family, in indignant inde- pendence of the planters, whose stupid folly, equaled only by their reckless malignity, sought, by systematic fraud and oppression whenever op- portunity offered, to avenge upon the people the crime of having received their freedom. But after a little while we rode through the open, pleasant pastures of cattle-farms, overspreading a beautiful vale, and hemmed in by mountains of consider- able altitude, covered with rows of coffee-trees and crowned with massive buildings, consisting of the coffee-works and barbecues of the plantations, and the stately mansions of the proprietors. After a ride of several miles we arrived at Edinburgh Castle — the name given to the grazing farm to which our visit was directed. Situated in the gorge of the mountains, which rise abruptly to a considerable height on either hand, there is a hill Avhose precipitous sides seem to for- bid the further advance of the traveler, until he finds that the narrow road winds around its base. The Assassin. . 117 At the summit, looking right down upon the road, is a ruined tower, partly concealed by the large trees which have grown up around and covered it with their branches. Further up the mountain gorge the hill gradually slopes off to a level with the road, affording easy access to the tower in that direction. Continuing our ride, and leaving the tower it may be a quarter of a mile behind us, we turned out of the road, and, passing through the adjoining field, descended into a deep hollow, around which the mountains slope upward in all directions, forming a vast natural basin, rugged with numerous channels, through which in the rainy seasons the rushing waters descend to find an outlet. Deep down at the bottom of this basin, surrounded by a wall to keep the cattle out of danger, and overshadowed by the dense foli- age of a large clump of cedars, we came upon a yawning abyss, several yards in diameter, down which the waters find their course through unseen channels to the sea. Clambering over the wall, Ave looked down into " Hutchinson's Hole," not without a feeling akin to awe and terror, which was increased when, casting down several large stones, a considerable time elapsed before a splash or rumbling sound came back, to testify the im- mense depth they had descended before meeting with any obstruction to their fall. About the middle of the last century the tower dignified with the name of " Edinburgh Castle " was occupied by a Scotchman named Lewis Hutchinson, who was the owner of the farm or ii8 Romance Without Fiction. pen on which it stood. Right across the farm stretched the narrow defile through which wound the only road that in those days afforded ordinary means of communication between the north and south sides of the country. Hutchinson had not only acquired the farm, but had also, by some means, become the owner of a sufficient number of slaves to perform all the labor the estate re- quired ; and he had stocked the farm with cattle strayed or stolen from his neighbors. He lived in the tower alone, or surrounded only by slaves brought from Africa, and purchased from the slave- ships, which then openly carried on the horrible traffic in stolen human beings, unchecked by pub- lic opinion, and under the full protection of the British flag. He held very little intercourse with his neighbors ; for, though none suspected that he was the monster of crime he turned out to be, yet, exhibiting a morose and gloomy character, he was generally shunned, and few cared to hold any in- tercourse with him beyond that which the ordi- nary business of life rendered unavoidable. But the occupant of that lonely tower was an assassin who made a trade of murder, and luxuriated in the deliberate slaughter of his fellow-men. There was then but little communication between the two sides of the island, and that was chiefly car- ried on by small coasting vessels, running round the eastern or western extremities of the land. Very few persons ventured to climb the rugged sides of the mountain which the Spaniards named ** Diavola," and then wind their dreary way The Assassin. 119 through the lonely wooded defiles affording the only means of passage by land from one coast to the other. The terror of the journey was increased by the fact that it had been attempted by many persons who had never reached their destination or been heard of again. By what means they had perished none could guess. Whether cut off by freebooters, or carried off by Maroons to their inaccessible fastnesses in the forest-covered mountains, never could be ascertained. They disappeared leaving no trace behind; and the mystery was explained only when the atrocities of Hutchinson were brought to light. Then it transpired that they had fallen by his hand, and that the numerous travelers who, in attempting to cross over the island, had dropped out of life as suddenly as if the earth had opened and swallowed them up, and residents of the neighborhood who had also mys- teriously disappeared, and were supposed to have been ingulfed by the treacherous sink-holes in the vicmity, had been the victims of as revolting a system of treachery and cruelty as ever cast a dark shadow upon the history of any country. It was not necessity that drove him to the per- petration of crimes worthy of the Thugs of Hin- dostan, for he was wealthy ; nor, although unscru- pulous as to the means he employed to increase his substance, was it altogether the love of gain. Of a savage, misanthropical disposition, intensified by some real or imaginary injury inflicted upon bim in his early life, he cherished a fierce, unnatu- I20 Romance Without Fiction. ral detestation of the human race, and a mor- bid taste for blood, until the contemplation of human agony became his chief delight, and his morose and hardened soul found its high- est gratification in destroying human life. Mur- der became his study and occupation ; and it was said of him, as gathered from the testimony of his most trusted slave, who survived his master many years, that if his destined victim were infirm or sick, he carefully attended to him, and revived his strength ; or if he could behold him first in fancied security, in the convivial assembly, or per- haps in the bosom of his family, it gave him greater satisfaction to inflict the blow which cut him off, and increased his appetite to relish the expiring struggle. To enjoy the gory spectacle, he always dissevered the head from the palpitating body. His most pleasing occupation was to whet his gleaming knife. His gloomy soul was sated only by a copious flow of blood. Simply to destroy life was not sufficient : and he experienced a sav- age delight in gloating over the writhing agony from which most men instinctively turn away their eyes. He would retain the ghastly head where it would be constantly before him ; and when, through the influence of the climate, it rapidly changed, and he could no longer feast his gaze upon the decaying countenance, it was his habit to place it high in the air in the hollow trunk of a cotton-tree, where the vultures could speedi- ly strip it of the putrefying flesh. After this the whitened skull was cast down the yawning The Assassin. I2I chasm into which the mangled carcass had already been thrown. Hutchinson's slaves were made participators of his sanguinary deeds. These were Africans, pro- cured fresh from the slave-ships, and speaking only their own language. Familiarized with cruelty and blood in their own land, and sunk in heathen ignorance, they perceived nothing crim- inal or unusual in these atrocious acts, and, with the submission with which slaves bow to the will of their owner, they did whatever he commanded, and scrupled not to take the part assigned to them by their master in helping to destroy the living or dispose of the dead. The risk from them was slight, for as they were never suffered to be away from the farm, and knew no language but that brought from their native wilds across the sea, they were not able, even if they felt an inclina- tion to do so, to make any revelation concerning the character and doings of their guilty owner. But, apart from this, fear would suffice to seal their lips, as their own lives lay at his mercy ; and if it were his pleasure to cut them in frag- ments with the terrible cartwhip in that secluded vale, he could do so with perfect impunity. Thus it was that for many years he carried on the prac;- tice of assassination without being discovered or exciting any suspicion. Occasionally travelers in company would traverse the gloomy valley and call at the tower, and these, after being hospitably entertained, passed on in safety, their plurality being their protection. But no solitary traveler 122 Romance Without Fiction, who attempted to thread his way througn the lonely mountain gorge, however poor or wretched he might be, was suffered to escape alive from the confines of Hutchinson's farm. The tower was so situated as completely to command the narrow road, and the murderer or one of his slaves kept constant watch for any passer by who, alone, and not suspecting danger, might become their prey. The needy wanderer would sometimes call at the lonely turret, the first sign of a human habitation which for many miles had greeted his eye, and solicit food and temporary shelter. And he would obtain it without grudging, but it would be the last he would ever partake of. The more wealthy trav- eler would halt and seek hospitality at the tower, which would be cheerfully afforded, without any idea of remuneration, and he would leave, grateful for the rough but apparently kind attentions he had received, only, however, to meet the cruel fate to which he had been silently doomed. by the treacherous master of that habitation while sitting at his board in seeming friendly intercourse. From a loop-hole of the tower in one direction, or through a thick-set hedge of logwood prepared for the purpose on the other, and both of which per- fectly commanded the narrow path, the hapless victim would be shot down with unerring aim by the assassin or his slave assistants. Sometimes at the cattle-fold hard by the road the master would detain in conversation a wayfarer who might be passing on without stopping at the tower, while his slave from behind the fence could leisurely take TJic Assassin. 123 aim at the unsuspecting victim, and stretch him low in death. Thus it was that for some years lonely travelers across the mountain range of Ja- maica continued mysteriously to disappear. Not only days but weeks generally elapsed before they were missed by their friends. And then all in- quiry was vain ; all traces of them had vanished from the face of the earth. But the most successful and protracted career of crime meets with a check at last. Some over- sight, some seeming accident, e\v:urs to mar the well-planned scheme, and furnish a clue to the cleverly concealed villainy, and the evil doer finds in the end how true are the words of inspired wis- dom, "Be sure your sin will find you out." So it was with the assassin Hutchinson. He was suf- fered to run a long course of evil unchecked ; but in the operations of that Providence which is all- pervading and all-controlling, the mystery of ini- quity was at length unraveled, and the blood- stained wretch stood revealed in all his terrible enormity of crime. A failure in his usual caution, an oversight committed in his eagerness to accom- plish a long-meditated act of villainy, unmasked the murderer, and brought his guilty career to an end. In the same vale, but at a considerable distance, was a cattle-farm similar to his own, the manager of which — a person named Callendar — had for a considerable time been marked out for assassina- tion by Hutchinson whenever the favorable op- portunity should occur. By some offense, perhaps altogether unintentional, he had awakened against 124 Romance Without Fiction. himself the inextinguishable hatred of his danger- ous neighbor, who, however, concealed both his feelings and intentions deep within his own breast. A few of Hutchinson's cattle had strayed and found their way to the property under Callendar's care, where they had committed some depreda- tions. With neighborly kindness the manager drove them back to their own plantation, and de- livered them over to the care of their owner, re- questing that they might not be suffered so to trespass again. Such an occasion was not favora- ble to the purposes of the murderer, accompanied, as Callendar was, by slave-drovers or cattle-men belonging to the estate under his care. The vis- itor was hospitably entertained, and dismissed with assurances which satisfied him, gratified with the apparent cordiality that had marked the conduct of his host. The visit was returned, and the as- sassin spent a day in intercourse with his intended victim, which seemed to partake of the utmost friendliness. Thus a freedom of acquaintance was promoted that promised to give the desired opportunity for the indulgence of the treacherous cruelty lying hidden beneath all this show of friendship. After two or three visits had been interchanged, one day, as the unsuspecting Cal- lendar was going to or returning from the tower, a rifle bullet from behind the fatal hedge, fired by the hand of Hutchinson, stretched him upon the earth, and the tragedy was completed in the usual way, except that in this case, as it might be haz- ardous to retain in his possession such a dangerous The Assassin. 125 clew to the unfolding of the mystery certain to attach to Callendar's sudden disappearance, the bleeding body, with the head still attached, was committed to the unfathomable charnel-house that had engulfed so many, and which the murderer vainly imagined would never give up its dead. There happened to be in the tower, confined to bed by sickness, an unsuspecting traveler, who had stopped there on his journey, and who, wea- ried and worn out by the illness that had overtaken him on the road, had solicited the shelter and hospitality of the lone house until he should be recovered sufficiently to pursue his journey. This had been freely accorded, and the patient was tended with such rude care as the slave denizens of the farm, under the direction of their master, were able to afford, with the intention on the part of the treacherous host that in due time, when the unsuspicious guest should take his departure in all confidence and security, and warmed with gratitude for the generous treatment he had re- ceived, he might gloat over the luxury of laying him low with his fatal rifle, and send him to join the numerous victims already consigned to the deep, yawning abyss close at hand. Having in some de- gree recovered from the fever which for many days had prostrated all his energies, and gladly risen from his couch, through the small opening that admitted light and air into a room he had accidentally en- tered, he became, to his inexpressible horror, an unseen witness of the assassination of the unfor- tunate Callendar, He had heard of the dark 126 Romance Without Fiction. mystery which enshrouded the fate of numerous travelers who had ventured to cross the island by that lonely road, and here light was suddenly thrown upon it. He could now understand the reason of their inexplicable disappearance. Shocked beyond measure with what he had seen, he placed a powerful restraint upon his feeling's and let no word or sign escape him concerning the tragedy wrought before his eyes, but quietly waited his opportunity. As soon as his recovered strength permitted, when the owner of the tower was ab- sent, possessing himself of a horse, and eluding all observation, he effected his escape from the fate which he felt sure awaited him, especially if his possession of the terrible secret should for a mo- ment be suspected. Unseen and untraced, he made his way to the nearest habitation he could find, and the alarm was given. He made known the murder of Cal- lendar as he had witnessed it from the turret, and the bearing away of the mangled body in the direction of the deep sink-hole which received the drainings of the surrounding hills. Soon the whole country was up in wild excitement ; for suspicion of the truth was now awakened, and the mysterious disappearances which for years had kept up a painful interest on both sides of the island were accounted for. The murderer, on re- turning home in the evening, discovered the es- cape of his guest, whose destruction he had been brooding over for many days with savage satisfac- tion ; and, fearing that the assassination of Callen- The Assassin. 127 dar was known, he fled. Making his v\ay with all possible speed across the mountains and through the tangled forest, avoiding human habitations and frequented roads, he arrived at the south coast. On reaching Old Harbor, one of the south-side ports, he took unceremonious possession of an open boat and put to sea, and he succeeded in getting on board a ship which was passing the island under sail, congratulating himself on having, as he supposed, thrown off and baffled all his pur^ suers. But the whole country was up and in pursuit ; for intelligence of the discovery which had been made spread with unexampled rapidity, aggravated rather than lessened by the voice of rumor, and all were anxious that the assassin should be secured and brought to justice. Some hours after the alarm had been given con- cerning the murder of Callendar a strong party repaired to Edinburgh Castle to seize the criminal. Then it was discovered that he had taken alarm, and fled ; but his course was traced, and it was soon ascertained that he had boarded a passing vessel. Admiral Sir George Rodney, the hero of that Western Archipelago, happened to be lying at Port Royal with the fleet under his command ; and as soon as the intelligence was conveyed to him of what had occurred in St. Ann's, and the escape of the assassin, the admiral put to sea in his own ship, and speedily overhauled the mer- chant vessel in which the fugitive, in fancied se- curity, was flying to some distant shore. Inter- cepted in his flight, Hutchinson threw himself 128 Romance Without Fiction. into the waves, seeking there the death which he now saw to be inevitable. From this, however, he was rescued by the admiral's boats, and reserved for a more ignominious fate. After the flight and apprehension of the murderer search was made, and then his enormous villainy was brought to light. No less than forty-two watches were found in his chests, all of which had been plundered from the mangled bodies of the yet larger number of those whom he had slaughtered ; and the fact stood clearly revealed that the mul- titude of persons who, through successive years, had disappeared from life in passing across the country had all found a tragical end in that mountain gorge, and had been swallowed up in the depth of abyss ever yawning for fresh victims near the murderer's turret. Information was ob- tained from the slaves, by means of an interpreter, as to the method by which the murdered remains were disposed of; and an attempt was made to search the dark, fearful-looking pit, by letting down a bundle of lighted straw. Far down, at the depth of many feet, suspended on the point of a project- ing rock, was discovered the mangled, putrefying body of the murdered Callendar; but the depths below had more effectually received and disposed of all the other victims. In due time Hutchinson was brought to trial for the murder of Callendar at St. Jago de la Vega. After a display of hardihood and bravado seldom witnessed in a court of justice, the ruffian was convicted and speedily suffered the last penalty The Assassin. I2Q of the law upon the gallows. " The enormity of his crimes," says the historian of the time, " might be exceeded by his hardened insolence before his judges; but his reckless gaze upon the instrument which was to convey him before the tribunal of his Maker finds no parallel in the his- tory of crime or punishment ; nor can the annals of human depravity equal the fact that at the foot of the scaffold he left a hundred pounds in gold to erect a monument, and to inscribe the marble with a record of his death." The document is probably still in existence at Spanish Town, written by the hand and bearing the signature of the notorious criminal, in which he expressed this extraordinary wish, only a few moments before his wretched, blood-stained soul passed into the presence of its Creator and Judge. The record he required to be placed on the tablet in these words : " Lewis Hutchinson, hanged in Spanish Town, Jamaica, on the sixteenth morning of March, in the year of his Lord one thousand seven hundred and seventy-three. Aged forty years. " * Their sentence, pride, and malice I defy, Despise their power, and like a Roman die.' " 130 Romance Without Fiction. VI. The Hell-Fire Club. These are they That strove to pull Jehovah from his throne ; And in the place of heaven's eternal King Set up the phantom Chance.— Glynn. tHE foregoing tale of Hutchinson the assassin is properly followed by another, which serves yet more impressively to illustrate the retrib- utive providence of God in the affairs of men. About a week after my visit to Hutchinson's Hole I had called at the house of a friend, when a gen- tleman residing in the neighborhood came in. He was a planter, having the management of several large properties, and possessing a higher degree of mental culture than had fallen to the lot of many in the class he belonged to. He had become a frequent attendant upon the services at the mis- sion sanctuary, about a mile from the plantation where his residence was beautifully situated in one of the finest localities of the island ; and the truth had so far wrought upon his mind and heart as to induce him to dissever himself from one of the vicious habits fostered into general prevalence under the corrupting influences with which such a system as slavery always pervades the country wherein it is unhappily established. After the or- The Hell-Fire Club. 131 dinary salutations had passed, and we had resumed our seats he drew a newspaper from his pocket, and directed my attention to a brief obituary notice contained in it. On looking over it I found that it was the announcement of the death of one who was unknown to me. He was described as a planter of middle age, who had fin- ished his earthly course in a distant part of the island. "Your discourse on Sunday morning interested me very much," said my visitor, when I had read the notice to which he had directed my attention, " and I was greatly impressed by your remarks concerning a retributive providence and the illus- trations you gave. I was well acquainted with many of the men to whom you referred, who are now no more ; and with some of them I was inti- mate for years." " My mind was prepossessed very much with the subject," I replied, "from having, with a friend, last week, visited Edinburgh Castle, cele- brated as the scene of the Hutchinson tragedies many years ago ; and I was so impressed with the facts involved in that case, especially with the manner in which the wickedness of the man was brought to light, that I was induced to take the warning of Moses to the two tribes as my subject for the pulpit on Sabbath morning. God has wrought very marvelously during the few years past in breaking up and scattering that unlawful association, the Colonial Church Union ; and the manner in which his hand has been laid upon its 132 Romance Without Fiction, founders and leaders, the rector and his friend, Mr. H., is to my mind most impressive and ad- monitory. I think it fitting and proper that we should, in these things as in others, consider the works of the Lord, and regard the operations of his hand." It was God's complaint concerning his ancient people, " When my hand is lifted up, they will not see it. But they shall see." "I think with you," he said, "that we ought to recognize Divine Providence in those events which have occurred. Indeed, it is scarcely pos- sible for any thoughtful person to do otherwise, they have been so remarkable. Even Mr. H. B., who took a leading part himself in the proceedings of the Union, acknowledged, before the accident occurred which caused his own death, when he saw first one and then another of his friends so suddenly cut off from life, ' The hand of God is in these things.' And that is a very remarkable confession in the rector's printed address to his parishioners, that ' his life had been spent in a vain effort to push God out of the world he .had jnade.' I observed that you did not mention any names ; but I understood nearly all the cases to which you referred, and knew the parties well. I have never known the doctrine of retribution so fearfully illustrated anywhere as it has been in this colony during the last few years ; and I was glad you took up the subject as you did, and discussed it in a manner that could not be otherwise than instructive and admonitory to your hearers. My thoughts have dwelt largely on the subject ever The Hell-Fire Club. 133 since ; and I was startled when I received this newspaper by the post to-day, and read the notice to which I have called your attention." "I am not aware," I remarked, "that I had any acquaintance with the person. The name is strange to me. Is there any thing remarkable as- sociated with his history } " " Only this," he said, " that he was the sole sur- vivor of a party or club which existed some years ago, and whose history was very forcibly recalled to my mind as you were speaking about providen- tial retribution. I knew some of the persons con- cerned in it personally, and have often thought that the Lord dealt with them in a very remarka- ble way. They were all members of what was called the ' Hell-Fire Club,' of which you have probably heard, though it is now extinct, and has been so for some years." "I have heard it spoken of," I replied, "but I never met with any one who could give me particular information concerning the origin and design of an association bearing such a signifi- cant designation. Perhaps you may be able to do so." " I am not prepared," said he, " to gratify your curiosity to any considerable extent, though I lived for several years in the neighborhood where it ex- isted. It was a club established for profane and infidel purposes by some parties at Morant Bay; and I believe, though I cannot state positively, that it originated about the beginning of this cen- tury, or soon after, when opposition to the mission- 134 Romance Without Fiction, aries was fiercely raging. Who were the founders of the chib I never heard. I suppose they had rules by which the association was to be governed ; but, if so, they kept them very much to themselves. From all I ever learned about it, I believe it was got up to oppose the spread of religion by the missionaries, and to propagate and encourage blasphemy and infidelity." " How long did it continue to exist 7 " I in- quired. "Between twenty and thirty years," he replied, " and then it came to an end. The last I heard of it was an occurrence associated with the name of the person whose death is reported in the news- paper I have shown to you as having taken place a few days ago at Morant Bay. It was there the club was first established, and the incidents with which he was identified were of such a character as to make a profound impression upon all who became acquainted with them. The facts were partly related to me by himself many years ago, and they were brought very vividly to my recol- lection while I listened to you on Sunday last. I thought it a strange coincidence that to-day, on receiving my newspaper from the post-office, the first thing my eye lighted on was the announce- ment of that man's death who had been for several days so much in my thoughts, and concerning whom I felt some anxiety to ascertain whether he was yet living, or had followed his former asso- ciates to the grave." " I should feel obliged," I remarked to my The Hell-Fire Club. 135 visitor, " if you have no objection, if you will re- late to me the incidents to which you allude. I have long desired to possess myself of such par- ticulars as can now be ascertained relative to that club, whose very name seems to express something very much like a daring defiance of God." " I shall be happy," he responded, " to give you the information as I received it, which I believe to be substantially correct, coming as it did to me chiefly from a person so deeply interested. The members of the club were in the habit of meeting at different places, both in town and country, as agreed upon among themselves. At one of the last meetings — I believe the very last — there were present ten members, mostly planters in charge of the surrounding plantations ; and it took place on the estate of which the person whose death is mentioned in this newspaper was the overseer. I am not prepared to say whether it was one of the regular meetings of the club, or an accidental gathering of some who were connected with it for one of those seasons of debauch and drunkenness to which the planters of those days regularly gave themselves up on Sundays in most parts of the country. From the number assembled I should think it was the former. After some hours spent in deep potations and obscene and riotous orgies, more befitting fiends than intelligent and account- able human beings, until all unhallowed passions became rampant, the persons who had been chosen to preside over the drunken revel called 136 Romance Without Fiction. upon his companions to fill up their glasses, and drink a toast which he would propose for them. This done, he proposed the toast — so profane, so blasphcmcus, and expressing such outrageous de- fiance of God, that I shrink from putting it down. To give point to the words of blasphemy and ex- press defiance of the Almighty more emphatic than could be enunciated in mere language, it was suggested that each of them should hold a loaded pistol in his hand and fire it off at the moment of drinking the toast. Mad and reckless as they were with excess, several of the debauchees were startled and stood aghast at the daring wickedness of the proposal. But it was only for a few brief moments. Then all were agreed except one, and he the overseer of the plantation on which they were assembled. Not quite so hardened in wick- edness as most of his associates, he refused to be a party to the daring profanity, and for a time held out against all the persuasion and upbraidings with which he was assailed. It was only when the reckless men around him threatened violence, and he stood in fear of his life, that he yielded a trembling consent and drank the toast. Soon after they separated. And that was the last meet- ing of the Hell-fire Club ; for within a few weeks most of the company of blasphemers were swept away by some violent death. And before the end of three months every one was gone to the grave, except the person whose death is now recorded in the newspapers, and who was the one who refused for a while to join in the blasphemers' toast. The The Hell-Fire Club. 137 last of the nine was the man who acted as presi- dent on the occasion, and the author and proposer of the profane toast. He died under peculiar circumstances, and in great agony, which occa- sioned much remark at the time." I here interrupted the narrator to inquire if he had been personally acquainted with any of the individuals he had referred to. "I knew the person," he said, "whose death has just taken place, and with two or three of the others I was slightly acquainted ; but I was only a young man when these circumstances transpired, and I heard them much talked of at the time they took place. What occurred at the drinking party, together with the toast and the firing of the pis- tols, were all related to me by the individual whose death is mentioned here. In consequence of three of the party meeting with sudden death during the very next week after they had so daringly defied the Almighty a deep impression was made upon his mind, and he was induced to speak of what had occurred, otherwise the whole might have passed off as other drunken revels had done, and no more been said or thought about it. He be- came a different man after that, and went to no more Sunday drinking parties." I expressed a desire to be informed if the three persons alluded to all met their death at the same time. " No," he said. " One of them was an overseer on a neighboring plantation, and was crushed by a piece of timber falling upon him. This took 138 Romance Without Fiction, place the day following the guilty revel. He was giving directions to some workmen who were rais- ing the roof of a new building on the estate when a beam or rafter fell and struck him, inflicting such injuries that he survived only a few minutes. The person who has recently died happened to be pres- ent when the accident occurred. And it is not surprising that such an event following imme- diately upon the drunken carouse of the preced- ing day, which was characterized by such despe- rate wickedness, should make a serious impression upon his mind, especially when, a day or two later, two more of the party were also cut off. They were returning home on horseback from a visit to one of the plantations, having drank freely with the overseer. But during the time they Avere oc- cupied in the convivialities that generally attended such visits, heavy rains in the mountains had brought down a flood in the river which they had to cross on their return home, and, as it was dark, they were not in a condition to observe how much the waters were swollen. They attempted to ford the stream, but were washed from their horses, and borne away to the sea by the fierce torrent. Their bodies, much bruised and mangled by being dashed against the massive boulders in the river-course, were found cast ashore on the following day in a condition scarcely to be iden- tified." "Do you know," I inquired, "what became of the others 7 for I think you said they all came to the grave within a short time after the The Hell-Fire Club. 139 meeting at which the blasphemous toast was pro- posed." " It is some years now," he said, " since I con- versed with any one upon the subject, and the particulars are not so distinct in my mind as they were. In the lapse of years, names, dates, and places are apt to get confounded when the mem- ory alone is relied upon ; but the main facts were of such a character as not easily to be forgotten, though I cannot undertake to relate them in the exact order in which they occurred. Very shortly after the two were drowned in fording the river — I think it was the following week — a Mr. M'P., who was one of the drinking party, also in the planting line, was riding a young horse not very well broken to the bit and saddle, when the ani- mal took fright at something that caught his at- tention and started off at full speed. The road being rough and rocky, the horse fell, throwing his rider with great violence, and smashing his head against some stones on the side of the way. He was killed on the spot. A Mr. G. was about the same time killed by negroes in revenge for in- juries he had inflicted upon them. At least it was supposed that some of the slaves on the estate of which he was overseer were the murderers, though the real culprits could never be discovered. He was very severe and cruel in his management of the property intrusted to his care, inflicting fre- quent and heavy punishments ; and he wrought the people very hard, so that generally more ne- groes died off where he was overseer than on any 140 Romance Without Fiction. of the plantations around. He was one of the old school planters, who lived in the time of the slave- trade, and thought it more profitable to get all the work he could out of the Africans, and supply the waste by purchasing others from the slave-ships, than to treat them more kindly, and allow the slave population on the estate to increase in the natural way. After the slave-trade was abolished he continued the same cruel system of manage- ment, and the consequence was that, although he made large crops, yet the estates suffered so much in his hands by the loss of slaves, who could not now be replaced as before, that he had very often to change his situation. He had a fierce set of negroes to deal with on the estate he was then managing, many of them being of the Coromantee race, and few persons were surprised, though many were shocked, when it became known that he had been waylaid by a party of negroes on his return home late at night and chopped to pieces. His negro boy was with him, riding a little distance behind, when the assassins, all entirely naked, set upon the unfortunate man in the dark. The boy fled upon his mule, no attempt being made to in- tercept him, and left his master to his fate. And a dreadful fate it was, for he was found by those who went in search of him hewed in fragments with cutlasses, and those who did it kept their own counsel so well that they were never discov- ered. Another of those who joined in the toast was supposed to have been murdered. He was poisoned, and died in great agony. He was a Mr. The Hell-Fire Club. 141 S., in mercantile life, carrying on business as a general storekeeper. He had cast aside a quad- roon woman who had been his housekeeper for 3^ears, and was the mother of several of his chil- dren, and had put another woman in her place. A proceeding of this kind has cost many a man his life in this country. Many of the old Africans possessed a knowledge of poisonous plants grow- ing within the tropics with which scientific men were not acquainted, a knowledge often turned to dangerous account in Obeah practices, and some- times resorted to for purposes of revenge. It is very probable that the cast-off mistress found some means of reaching her quondam protector with one of these powerful vegetable poisons, but so skillfully and secretly, that no traces could be discovered of the agency through which the deed was accomplished. Another of the party, a Mr. L., shot himself. Such, at least, was the conclusion arrived at concerning his case, for he was found shot through the head, the ball having passed upward through his mouth, scattering the brains all around. He also was in business as a general dealer, and his affairs were found to be much involved, and mixed up with many fraudu- lent transactions. He had lived a wild, profligate life, far beyond his means, and having got hope- lessly involved in debt with all who would trust him, he settled with all his creditors at once by means of a pistol-ball. The same day that L. shot him- self, a Mr. T., an intimate friend of his, was killed by the bursting of a gun. Both belonged to the 142 Romance Without Fiction. infidel club, and both were present when the toast was proposed, entering very readily into the pro- posal, Avhile some were disposed to hang back. T. had gone out with some friends to shoot wild pigeons, and the first time he attempted to fire, the weapon he carried burst into fragments, one of which was driven through the face into his head, inflicting a wound which proved mortal in a few hours. Then there was a Mr. B., overseer of an estate, who met his death in going home from the town. He was a hard drinker, and frequently went home intoxicated when he visited the town. On this occasion he had indulged more freely than usual, and driving home in his gig, he ran the wheel of his vehicle upon a bank, by which it was overturned, and, falling upon his head, his neck was dislocated, and he died upon the spot where he fell. The whole of these casualties occurred within a very few weeks — not more, I believe, than four or five, and only two of that profane party were left alive : the man at whose house the party had assembled, and who was compelled by his drunken companions, under threats of violence and death, to go with them in their daring act of profanity, and the person who occupied the chair on the occasion and suggested the drinking of the toast. What effect was produced upon the mind of the latter by the sad fate which overtook his companions in such rapid succession I cannot tell. Many persons who had become acquainted with the facts relating to that last meeting of the Hell-Fire Club, and the blasphemous orgies that The Hell-Fire Club. 143 attended it, looked on with awe, for they regarded these casualties which came upon the company of blasphemers as the judgments of Almighty God. And this feeling was terribly strengthened when, a few weeks later, they saw the leader in the act by which God was so daringly and wickedly defied, also s^vept away from the midst of the living by a very horrible death." My informant then proceeded to relate the par- ticulars connected with the death of this individ- ual, which were of such a character as not to ad- mit of their being minutely stated here. While on a journey he received injury from the incau- tious use of a poisonous plant, that produced in- flammation, gangrene, mortification, and death. The death scene of this man was very fearful. To the excruciating physical torture he had to endure were added the terror and anguish of de- spair. When his energies were prostrated by the agonizing pain which had seized upon him, and death stared him in the face ; when the world, for which alone he had lived, was fading away, and the dread realities of the eternal world were all around him, then how eagerly would he have turned to the Blessed One whom he had in wan- ton wickedness blasphemed and defied ! But he could not pray. He dared not hope that God would hear him now, and he howled and raved and blasphemed God in his delirium until nature was exhausted and life failed, and the wretched soul of the blasphemer passed beyond the vail to appear before its Maker. 144 Romance Without Fiction. " I never heard," my informant said, in reply to a question of mine upon the subject, "that any other meeting of the infidel club was held after- . ward. I believe some who once belonged to it still survive, but these judgments of the Almighty broke up the unholy association, and it became extinct. Those who had formed part of the skep- tic league were too much horrified to have any thing more to do with a fraternity against which the hand of the Lord had been so manifestly lifted up. Not a few who had made a boast of infidelity were silenced, if not cured of their skepticism. This was the case with the individual who is so recently deceased. He was greatly alarmed by the fate of his associates in wickedness, and I be- lieve he repented. If ever a man prayed earnestly for pardon I believe he did, and he became a changed man." " I think," I replied, " that the fact of his life having been lengthened out for so many years after his associates were taken away may be justly regarded as an indication that he did not pray in vain. When David, through Nathan's rebuke, was turned to God again, and made the acknowl- edgment, 'I have sinned,' the prophet was com- missioned to say, ' The Lord also hath put away thy sin.' His conscience appears to have been less hardened than theirs, as he was only induced to join them in their excess of wickedness under pressure, and it was in consequence of his being wrought upon by the sudden death of some of his associates that the facts were brought to light. The Hell-Fire Club. 145 Otherwise we should never have known the full extent of the depravity and blasphemy which char- acterized that club of infidel opposers of the truth, or the judgments that swept them from the earth. If he had not made known what took place at that last meeting, when God was so profanely set at naught, the destruction that came so rapidly upon the offenders would have been looked upon merely as the ordinary casualties of colonial life. My mind has been deeply impressed with the occur- rences of the last few years in the breaking up of the Colonial Church Union, which was a conspir- acy against God and his truth, and the judgments that fell upon so many of the chapel destroyers, most of whom have come to a violent and untime- ly end. I had heard of this ' Hell-Fire Club,' and sometimes have seen a reference made to it by newspaper correspondents, but I never could suc- ceed in gaining any knowledge of its history until now. Nor was I aware that it originated in the persecutions to which missionaries were subjected at Morant Bay many years ago. When I was at Morant Bay, a little while since, I visited the dun- geon in which the missionaries were imprisoned. The whole history is very instructive, and exhibits an impressive comment upon the words of the Psalmist concerning those who league themselves together in opposition to the cause of Christ : ' Thou shalt break them with a rod of iron ; thou shalt dash them in pieces like a potter's vessel. Kiss the Son, lest he be angry, and ye perish from the way, when his v.rath is kindled but a little.' 146 Romance Without Fiction The first part of the quotation receives illustra- tion from the fate which befell the clique of blas- phemers; the latter from the sparing mercy exer- cised toward him who repented and humbled himself before God." The torrent that swept the valley may be led to turn a mill. The wild electric flash, that could have kindled comets, May by the ductile wire give ease to an ailing child. For outward matter or event fashion not the character within ; But each man, yielding or resisting, fashioneth his mind for himself. Planets govern not the soul, nor guide the destinies of man ; But trifles, lighter than straws, are levers in the building up of character. A man hath the tiller in his hand, and may steer against the current, Or may glide down idly with the stream, till his vessel founder in the whirlpool. The Blacksmith's Wedding. 147 VII. The Blacksmith's Wedding. There is a Power Unseen, that rules the illimitable world, That guides its motions, from the brightest star To the least dust of this sin-tainted mold: While man, who madly deems himself the lord Of all, is naught but weakness and dependence. — Thomson. Cid MPORTANT issues sometimes proceed from '^^^ very insignificant circumstances, and grand results from unpromising beginnings. It was in those days when slavery spread its gloomy shadow over the land that a missionary, residing near the western extremity of Jamaica, was cross- ing the island from a southern town to the capital of the country situated on the northern shore. He was on horseback, and not very superbly mounted for the long and fatiguing ride which he had undertaken. The early part of his journey lay for some miles across a wide-stretching savan- na, where the roads are constructed with logs of Ugnum-vitcB and logwood, laid across, and covered over with mud thrown up from either side. This, when hardened and baked in the burning rays of the tropical sun, makes, in the dry weather, a tol- erably good pathway for horses and vehicles; but in the long rainy seasons it becomes an extended quagmire impassable to vehicles of any descrip- 10 14^ Romance Without Fiction. tion, and through which the traveler on horseback has to pick his way with the utmost care to avoid the danger of breaking the legs of his horse through his- stepping into some of the deep holes with which the road abounds, and which are all the more perilous as, being filled with water by the daily rains, their depth cannot be very readily discerned. Threading his way slowly and carefully for more than two hours along this difficult road, and often sinking nearly to the girths in the treacherous ground, from which the poor animal could extri- cate itself only by a desperate plunge, the travel- er arrived at the foot of the mountains, bespat- tered to the shoulders ' with the mud through which for seven weary miles he had been urg- ing his toilsome way. Here the road, though still rough, became more solid and pleasant to travel, tending upward along the rocky mountain side ; its windings opening up to view beautiful valleys overspread with villages, and abounding with the luxuriant vegetation of the tropics. Nu- merous cottage gardens lay spread over the vale, or occupied the slopes of the hills, all of them filled with fruit trees of different kinds ; the cocoa- nut, the plantain and the banana, the star-apple and all the varieties of the orange, grape fruit, lime and shaddock exhibiting their rich and tempting burdens, and discovering the inexhaust- ible richness of a land which, but for the a ices and cruelties of man, might be an earthly paradise. Slowly he pursues his way ; for he compassionates The Blacksmith's Wedding. 149 the poor beast whose powers, by no means exu- berant, have been largely exhausted in bearing him through the heavy roads that cost him so much time and trouble to traverse. And he does not forget that the path before him, for some miles, is a steep ascent, leading over the range of hills and mountains which form the great backbone of the island. The sun, now high in the firmament, pours down a full tide of heat ; and it is with a feeling of grateful relief that, after climbing the rugged path for several miles, he enters an avenue formed by the plume-like branches of the bamboo. These, springing up from either side of the road in luxu- riant growth, and meeting above at a height of twelve or fifteen yards, form an umbrageous arch almost impervious to the rays of the sun, deliciously cool and grateful, conveying to the mind of the wearied, sun-scorched traveler a pleasant sense of the meaning of the Scripture metaphor, "the shadow of a great rock in a weary land." From this delightful shade, which extends over several miles, he emerges high up among the hills, to feel again the full force of the brilliant tropical heat, through which he winds his way until he has accomplished the most fatiguing half of his jour- ney. Four hours' toil has pretty well exhausted both man and beast, and he feels desirous of turning into one of the habitations near the road to obtain a little rest and shelter. His path now lies through a country divided into large cattle-farms, called pens, with their retinue of overseers, book- keepers, drivers, and slaves. At any of these, he 150 Romance Without Fiction. is well aware, he could call and obtain refresh- ment both for himself and his horse ; for the hos- pitality of the Jamaica planters is proverbial. And although the planters almost universally look with an unfriendly eye upon missionaries, yet even from them would not be withheld, at any of the planta- tions, the hospitality which it is the custom freely to accord to all travelers who m.ay request it. But he prefers to seek the rest he needs at some more lowly habitation. He has an indistinct recol lection of an old house situated near the roadside, from whence he heard the music of the anvil when he passed that way before ; and in due time the gate-way with its shattered pillars in front of the blacksmith's shop gladdens his sight, and holds out the promise of at least an hour or two's repose. Riding to the foot of the rickety wooden steps which lead up, in front of the smithy, to the blacksmith's house above, he addresses himself to a good-looking colored woman, whose age may approach thirty years, and whose complexion in- dicates more of European than African blood flowing in her veins. He soon ascertains that he will be quite welcome to alight and rest himself there, and that there will be no difficulty in ob- taining a bundle of Guinea-grass for his horse and refreshment for himself. Dismounting, he com- mits the weary steed to the care of a lad some nine or ten years of age, the son of his colored hostess, who undertakes to rub him down and sup- ply him with grass and water; and then the trav- eler, after exchanging a word or two of greeting TJie Blacksmith's Wedding. 151 with the blacksmith himself, of whose soot)' visage he has caught a glimpse in approaching the dwell- ing, ascends the stairs. Through a small piazza, or gallery, he enters the house, receiving a polite welcome from the woman, and a broad, earnest stare from two or three little urchins, who cling to their mother, each clad in a long loose single gar- ment, calculated rather to afford cool comfort in a tropical climate than to meet the requirements of more refined society. The lower part of the building, which is the blacksmith's workshop, is a strong stone erection ; but the upper story is of wood, upon which time is doing its work, and reducing it rapidly to a state of considerable dilapidation. Having deposited himself on a broad wooden settle, which does duty as a sofa, his valise serving the purpose of a pillow, the wearied traveler reclines there very comfort- ably ; while his good-humored hostess, with bust- ling, cheerful activity, addresses herself to the task of getting breakfast for the stranger. A fowl, caught by one of the youngsters, and hastily de- capitated, plucked, and dismembered, is in a short time hissing and sputtering in the frying-pan. And, in due time, with a good supply of fresh eggs and coffee, and floury yams and cocoas, (the tanniers of some of the West India colonies,) a breakfast is served up sufificient to satisfy the keen hunger of the unexpected guest ; the nice clean table-cloth, and the well-polished, though very common, plates, serving to give zest to the wel- come meal. 152 Romance Without Fiction. While occupied in discussing and enjoying the palatable viands, his smiling hostess, who has rec- ognized in him one of the missionary preachers she has two or three times, with others from the surrounding neighborhood, traveled half a dozen leagues to hear, stands by to render whatever serv- ice her guest may require, and he enters into con- versation with her. From her he learns that among the slaves belonging to the pens and plantations all around there are many who are in the habit of going to the Bay, some eighteen miles distant, whenever they can get an opportunity of doing so, to attend the missionary services and hear the word of life. It is but seldom they can undertake the journey, owing to the distance and the little time that is allowed them to labor for themselves — only one Sabbath in a fortnight. But, above all, they are hindered by the persecuting violence of the planters, who are sternly opposed to the missionary teaching of the slaves, and freely use the cat and the cart-whip to curb and keep down the religious tendencies of the poor negro people under their care. It is not difficult to discover from the woman's tones and manner that a lively interest in the suf- ferings of the religious slaves, and in the teaching of the missionaries, has been awakened in hep own breast. Turning the conversation upon her own relig- ious condition and prospects, he learns that she has never lived within sound of a religious teach- er's voice ; never heard of Christ until she went to The Blacksmith's Wedding. 153 hear the missionaries within the last two or three years ; and that, ever since, she has thought and felt much about God and her soul. No one ever taught her to pray ; but she has sometimes tried to call upon God just as she has heard some of the praying slaves when, on two or three occasions, she attended their nocturnal meetings. Her mother lived with the owner of the estate close at hand, who made her free that her children might also be free ; and he built for the mother the house whose roof now covered them. When her mother- died she, the only child, inherited a life-interest in the dwelling and the inclosed piece of land which surrounded it. The present possessor of the estate had endeavored to deprive her of her little possession, but in vain, as her life-interest in the property was clearly secured. At her death it would revert to the estate. In the course of this conversation, which con- tinued long after the breakfast was over, the mis- sionary discovered that no religious or legal cere- mony had sanctioned her union with the black- smith ; and that it was only since she had heard of the marriages performed by the missionaries among the slaves on the plantations around that she had felt any misgivings about her own union with the father of her children and the propriety of her present mode of life. Further discourse on this subject threw light upon the woman's mind, and showed her that something was wanting to render the union valid and complete ; and she at once expressed her wish to be married, if it could be 154 Romance Without Fiction. done, as she desired above all things to lead a holy life and go to heaven. Assured that there was nothing to prevent the marriage taking place, she then inquired how and when it could be done. The missionary, who was aware that no law relat- ing to marriage had ever been placed on the stat- ute book of the colony, where unbounded licen- tiousness was the rule, and marriage a very occa- sional occurrence, and that therefore no legal re- strictions stood in the way, told her that she and the blacksmith might be married whenever they chose, and there was no reason why the matrimo- nial bond should not be entered into before he took his departure if both the parties were agreed. No time better than the present, the woman thought, and she promptly disappeared to consult the gentleman in the smithy. The ringing sound of the anvil suddenly ceases, and up through the single boards which form at once the floor above and the ceiling beneath, is heard the female voice setting forth, in eloquent strains, the evils of a course of life which God hath not blessed, and urg- ing the propriety of doing away the reproach by an immediate marriage, which "the parson " up stairs is ready to perform. The blacksmith, a quiet, taci- turn, industrious artisan, is of a similar complex- ion to that of the lady, and, like her, frse from the trammels of slavery. He sees no objection that can be urged to the proposal of an immedi- ate marriage, and quickly yields himself up to do whatever may be required of him in the matter, The Blacksmith's Wedding. 155 under the direction of his more active and al le partner. He is instructed to leave his work and submit himself to a cleansing process, which is by no means superfluous, and get into a clean suit of clothes, while she attends to such other arrange- ments as may be requisite. After a short consultation with the missionary the woman departs to obtain two friends to be present on the auspicious occasion, and also to se- cure the loan of a prayer-book — the Morning Serv- ice abridged from the Book of Common Prayer, which is in use by the missionaries. James M., the slave so often flogged and punished, she knows has both hymn-book and prayer-book, as well as a Bible, for he has shown them to her ; and as he is now laid up from a " terrible beating " re- ceived only a day or two ago, she can go and bor- row the book from him. In the course of an hour or-so she returns with the book, and intimates that the friends she went for will soon be on the spot. By the time she has donned the clean, humble suit, in which she appears a good-looking, buxom quadroon, the invited guests make their appear- ance in holiday trim. Meanwhile the blacksmith has got rid of all traces of his smoky trade from his hands and face, and presents himself in a coarse linen suit of snowy whiteness, the getting up of which does credit to the woman's skill as a laundress, all ready to play the part of bridegroom in the ceremony so unexpectedly improvised. In a short time the mutual vow has been exchanged, 156 Romance Without Fiction. the hymeneal benediction pronounced, and the parties declared to be man and wife. The mar- riage certificate is made out, duly attested by the witnesses as well as the officiating minister, who gives* the married pair to understand that on his return home the marriage will be duly recorded in the marriage register, kept at the mission chapel at the Bay. The incidents we have related are linked with important results, affecting the unchanging desti- nies of many souls all around that neighborhood. The missionary declines the urgent invitation of the bride to stay and get some dinner before he continues his journey. With smiling satisfaction at the unanticipated events of the day, she offers to get dinner ready with all possible expedition, that he may not be unduly detained. This, how- ever, he is under the necessity of declining, as the day is now far advanced, and half his journey — the least laborious half, as it is chiefly down hill — yet remains to be accomplished. Neither host nor hostess will listen to any offer of remuneration for the substantial breakfast provided for him ; and both warmly invite the missionary, when he returns, and whenever he passes that way, to make the house his resting-place. As the missionary looks abroad from the house the scene spread before his eyes all around is one of enchanting loveliness. For miles in all direc- tions stretch the "pens," or large cattle-farms, forming an important part of the properties or es- tates of Jamaica, where are bred the fine horned ■"-vj The Blacksmith's Wedding. 157 cattle, horses, and mules, required for carrying on the cultivation and manufacture of the sugar plan- tations. Large fields of luxuriant Guinea-grass growing ten or twelve feet high ; wide-spreading pasture fields of common grass all inclosed by stone walls, and thickly studded with clumps of cedar or broad leaf, and orange-trees, to afford shelter to the cattle from the tropical sun, present themselves to his admiring gaze. The white build- ings of these numerous properties, with the clus- tered huts of the slaves, surrounded by innumer- able cocoanut and other fruit-trees, give variety and beauty to the landscape. Here and there the eye rests upon some giant ceiba, or silk-cotton- tree, whose immense but symmetrical trunk shoots up branches to a height of seventy or eighty feet from the midst of ten or a dozen stupendous but- tresses, and then throws abroad its wide-spreading arms clothed with dense foliage, covering with its ample shade almost half an acre of ground. The landscape is enchanting in its park-like scenery and perennial verdure. But the soul of the mis- sionary is stirred within him as he think'j upon the fact that among the many thousands who live within the range of his vision the Maker of all this beauty and grandeur is scarcely known, and that the twofold curse of slavery and perse- cution rests upon the few who care for their own souls, and dare to call upon His name. Suddenly the thought occurs to him. Whence comes the suggestion .? May not the strange mar- riage which has just taken place prepare the way 158 Romance Without Fiction. for bringing the Gospel of Christ to this dark neighborhood ? The land all around, for miles, is included in the large properties whose mana- gers, as one man, are combined to oppose the Christian instruction of the slaves. But would it not be practicable, if the newly married pair will consent to brave the reproach and opposition that are sure to follow, to have religious services on the land placed, for the term of the woman's life, beyond the control of the proprietor and authori- ties of the estate of which it has been, and is again at her death to be, a part ? Turning to the woman, he inquires if she would not like to have mission- ary services brought to the neighborhood ; for there are none within eighteen miles. Her face be- comes radiant with joy at the thought; and when the missionary suggests that their own premises may serve for the purpose, both husband and wife yield a cheerful and joyous assent. The traveler then joyfully resumes his journey, cheered by the persuasion that the Lord has directed his footsteps in a way that will lead to the enlargement of the work he has at heart and the salvation of many souls. The tidings are soon spread abroad that the missionary is coming to preach at the black- smith's shop at Ramble. Hundreds all around are gladdened by the intelligence ; most of all the slaves, who have found it so difficult to get to the Bay, in order that they might hear about Jesus Christ and the way to heaven. Upon some others the effect is different. The planters all around are resolved if possible to prevent the invasion of their The Blacksmith's Wedding. 159 locality by missionaries, and one after another goes to the blacksmith, some persuading, others threat- ening him with the loss of custom, and even hold- ing out threats of a darker kind. Were it not for his wife it is possible he might give way to the urgent remonstrances addressed to him, for he as yet has felt but little concern about religion and his soul. But she remains immovable : since that missionary's visit which led to her marriage she has felt concerning God and her soul's destiny as she never did before. She has been conversing with some of the praying, converted slaves, and her mind is made up to seek religion and flee from the wrath to come. She comes to the res- cue, standing by her husband's side and vindicat- ing their right to do as they please with the prop- erty, and to devote it to such uses as they see fit during her life-time. The appointed Sabbath arrives, and the mis- sionary is there, having gone thither on the pre- ceding evening to be ready for an early morning service. A small room, just large enough to con- tain a bedstead, table, and chair, has been set apart as a prophet's chamber. The bed linen is coarse, but clean and comfortable, and there the minister is to find accommodation whenever he comes to visit the neighborhood. Late at night numerous visitors arrive to see "the parson," all of whom are slaves from the surrounding proper- ties, and most extravagant are their demonstra- tions of joy that the Gospel is to be brought into the midst of their own homes. It is in the smithy i6o Romance Without Fiction. that the services are to be held, and many sturdy hands set to work to prepare the place for the oc- casion. It is a labor of love. Cart-wheels, and old iron, and the implements of the blacksmith's trade, are all carried outside the buildings. The ashes are cleared away from the forge, and the rough floor swept clean, and it is but little short of mid- night when the preparations are completed. When the cheerful workers take their departure they leave behind them an ample supply of fowls, eggs, vegetables, and fruit, which they have brought to contribute to the missionary's entertainment. Daylight has scarcely dawned when the mission- ary is aroused by voices underneath, and discovers that the people are beginning to assemble for the early service. Looking through the jalousie win- dow, which admits both light and air to his room, he can see through the gray dawn numerous par- ties crossing the pastures from various directions. All are clothed in the coarse blue cloth garments which they receive yearly from their owners, and which the keen mountain air at such an early hour of the day, and the heavy dew resting upon every thing without, render necessary to these denizens of a sunny clime. Men, women, and children are flocking to the place, most of them bearing coarse wooden chairs or small benches for their own ac- commodation at the place of prayer. By the time the sun is showing himself in a full blaze of glory in the east the missionary has descended from his chamber to commence the worship of God. Every corner of the blacksmith's shop is crowded; The Blacksmith's Wedding. i6l bellows, sloping chimney, and forge, all occu- pied by children, whose sooty complexion seems to harmonize well with the position they occupy, and who gaze with silent amazement upon the strange scene, never having before looked upon an assembly gathered to hear the preaching of God's truth. All around the building there is a crowd, for the shop contains not more than a fourth of the congregation, and there are five or six hundred persons assembled. A short service of about an hour's duration closes with the hearty amens of the congregation, many of whom have now heard a sermon for the first time, and the crowd disperses, hastening homeward to prepare themselves for the two other services which are to follow in the course of the day. Again in the forenoon and afternoon there is a listening multi- tude yet larger than that which was present at the earlier worship. Nor is the word preached in vain. Angels bear the glad tidings to heaven of men and women pricked in their hearts, and there is joy in the courts above over repenting sinners. Tears of sorrow for sin moisten many sable cheeks, and tears of joy and gladness run down others because " the joyful sound " is brought to their owu doors. It is a lovely and a lively scene that presents it- self during the interval of the morning and after- noon worship. Groups of men and women gath- ered under the shade of the orange -trees, which thickly stud the adjacent pastures, are talking of the things of God, or engaged in prayer. Valen- tine Ward looked upon this scene several years i62 Romance Without Fiction. later, after having preached his last sermon, and finished an eminent career of usefulness, in that blacksmith's shop. When he beheld the classes with their leaders grouped beneath the trees he wept as he glorified God for what he had wrought among those children of Africa, pronouncing it to be the most interesting scene that had ever greeted his eyes, and the Sabbath spent there the happiest of his life. It was the last of his earthly Sabbaths, for four days after he was laid in the grave. When he was sinking, smitten by yellow fever, in the de- lU'iimi of death his imagination was still occupied with the Sabbath scene that had so enchanted him, and he continued to gaze upon it, and to talk of it until the more glorious realities of eter- nity burst upon his vision, and he passed away to be forever with the Lord. For several years the blacksmith's shop contin- ued to be used as a place of worship. A long shed was erected by the religious slaves of the neighborhood along one side of the building, and at one end, thatched with cocoa-nut leaves, to shelter the worshipers from sun and rain. Lowly as it was, it became a center of light to the neigh- borhood. No imposing ritual was practiced there, and no surpliced priests and choirs intoned the prayers and lessons ; but beneath that humble roof many souls were born to glory — made wise unto salvation by the faithful preaching of the Gospel. Many persecuted slaves, who had en- dured the lash and the gyves for the sake of a good conscience, there found comfort in their The Blacksmith's Wedding: 163 trials, and obtained strength to endure the grind- ing oppression to which they were subjected by hireling overseers. These men hated the black- smith's shop and the religion taught there, with all who possessed it, because of the unexpected checks they now met with in the indulgence of an unbridled sensuality. But their opposition and their cruelty were in vain. The work of the Lord went on, and prospered. Whites, free colored people, slaves, alike felt the power of the truth, and submitted themselves to the Gospel yoke, becoming, in doing so, the freemen of the Lord. And there in due time infantile voices were heard in the songs and routine of the Sabbath-school, learning to worship and serve Him who said, " Suf- fer the little children to come unto me." Gradually the opposition ceased. The planters found that religion made their servants trustwor- thy, intelligent, and faithful. The proprietor of the estate with which the blacksmith's shop was connected began to look with favorable eye upon the services that at first he had so bitterly op- posed. To the surprise of many he himself sought and found the peace of conscience for which through many years he had yearned with an intensity of longing that only a deep conscious- ness of guilt can produce, for his hands were stained with blood. A dark cloiid had been cast over his life by the fatal result of a duel with a former friend, arising out of a drunken carouse. His friend had fallen by his hand, and was gone, with all his sins upon his head, to face his Maker 11 164 Romance Without Fiction. and his Judge. From the moment he saw his ill- fated companion fall dead before his fatal weapon he had known no peace. Gloom settled upon his soul, and he scarcely mingled at all with his fel- low-men. But the peace of God, which came to many hearts in that blacksmith's shop, came also to him, and dispersed the gloom that had dark- ened his life and prospects. He was enabled by faith to cast his blood-guiltiness upon the Saviour, and lifted his head in hope. The gift of a suitable site for a mission station near the blacksmith's premises was one of the fruits of the gracious change he experienced. A chapel and parsonage, with a good and commodious school-room, were in due time erected there. It became the head of a circuit, bearing the name of the venerable man who there performed the last act of his Christian ministry. And the Mount Ward Sta- tion, most delightfully situated, stands a center of light and blessing to the neighborhood, and is des- tined, we trust, to be the birthplace of many souls in the generations of the future. In Slavery a Hundred and Forty Years. 165 VIII. In Slavery a Hundred and Forty Years. Why should old age escape unnoticed here That sacred era to reflection dear ? That peaceful shore where passion dies away, Like the last wave tliat ripples o'er the bay ? O, if old age were canceled from our lot, Full soon would man deplore the unhallowed blot ! Life's busy day would want its tranquil even, And earth would lose her stepping-stone to heaven. Caroline Oilman. AVING just finished the Sabbath morning service, and attended to some other pastoral duties in the oldest chapel in the island of Jamaica, a chapel which bears the name of the good and zealous Doctor Coke, the founder of the Wesleyan missions, the young missionary who has officiated, and who has been only two or three years in the work, is about to retire from the sanctuary. Before reaching the door he is ac- costed by a decently-dressed black female, long past the prime of womanhood, with the request that he will go and visit a person who is sick. " Me come for ax minister if him will find time in de afternoon to go and visit a very old woman, who has been long time in de society, and is 'bout 'pon dying." " You say the person is very old .'' " i66 Romance Without Fiction. " Yes, minister. Him de oldest person in de town, and bin in de society from de time of Mr. Campbell ; and him bin quite old, minister, where him first jiae the Church." " Is she a free person, or a slave .'' " " Old Moggy bin slave, minister. Him bin come to dis country in slave-ship 'bout de time of de great urtquake." " The great earthquake ! You surely do not* mean the earthquake that destroyed Port Royal.? " '' Yes, minister, me believe so ; for so me hear dem say. Him quite old woman, minister, when for me mammy bin one little pickaninny so high, minister," holding her hand about two feet and a half from the ground, to indicate that her mother, at the time alluded to, was a very little girl. Having certified himself concerning the locality to which the desired visit is to be directed, he dismisses the woman with the promise that he will go and see the sick person before the evening service. When the afternoon is sufficiently advanced to modify, in some measure, the fierce heat of a tropical sun, and enable him to thread his way through the streets within the shadow of the houses, the young missionary directs his footsteps to that part of the city where old Moggy, if the account he has received be correct, is passing through the closing scenes of a strangely pro- tracted life. After some inquiry he finds the yard which has been described to him. On raising the In Slavery a Hutidred and Forty Years. 167 latch and pushing open the somewhat dilapidated door, he perceives, in company with several others, adorned, like herself, in broad-brimmed straw hat and muslin gown and handkerchief, light, neat and exquisitely clean, the same woman he had conversed with in the earlier part of the day. She advances, with a broad smile upon her face, to welcome him with the usual salutation, " Glad for see minister." The yard is a square open space, pertaining to a large respectable-looking house in front, the out offices of which occupy one side of the square : the opposite side and the end being filled with a range of negro rooms, appearing to have been built and fitted with some regard to the comfort of those for whose use they were intended. Around the door of one of these apartments are sitting, upon wooden chairs of a very humble de- scription, the women referred to, who all rise, and courtesy very respectfully to the visitor, and greet him with, " How d'ye, me minister } " or, " Glad for see minister : " their white glistening teeth con- trasting pleasantly with the dusky hue of their smiling countenances. Preceded by one of these women, who has advanced to receive him, he enters the room, which is small but clean and comfortable, and there, on a low bed, sup- ported by several pillows, lies the object of his visit. She is a negro woman, greatly shrunken and shriveled by age ; and, but for the eyes, which re- tain a considerable degree of brightness and intelligence, would more resemble an unrolled i68 Romance Without Fiction, Egyptian mummy than any thing else he can think of. She lifts her eyes toward the minister, as he advances to the bedside, with a look of in- quiry ; but when the woman, stooping near to her, and speaking in a tone somewhat raised, says, " Moggy, here is minister come to see you," a gleam of gladness passes over the wrinkled features, and she lifts her withered hand to welcome him. Seating himself on a chair, which has been politely handed to him, the young missionary proceeds to inquire concerning her bodily ailments. " Old and weak, minister," is the reply ; and he finds, on extending his inquiries to those who seem to have charge of her, that she exhibits no indications of disease, but a general sinking of the vital powers. The weary wheels of life, which have been going actively for so many years, are now beginning to stand still. He then seeks to lead her thoughts to other things, and inquires if she knows and feels the love of Christ. " O yes ! massa," she replies as a brighter light kindles in her eyes, and seems to suffuse the entire counte- nance, " Jesus bery precious." Although the sounds proceeding from her tooth- less mouth are weak, and not very intelligible to his unaccustomed ear, yet, with the help of those around who can better understand what she endeavors to express, he can gather that she was converted to God under the ministry of Mr. Fish, one of the earliest missionaries to the colonies ; that she knew Dr. Coke, and heard him preach ; and that she was " a very old woman when Massa Jesus par- In Slavery a Hundred and Forty Years. 169 doned her sins — too old for work." Having, to her manifest comfort and joy, spoken cheering words about that glorious heaven so soon to be her home, and near the very portals of which she is lingering until the Master makes the sign for her to enter, he bows in prayer at the bedside of the aged disciple and takes his departure. But he is resolved, if life is spared, to inquire further about a case which is to him profoundly interesting beyond any that has come within the range of his brief experience or observation. The forenoon of the following day finds the missionary again at the bedside of old Moggy, who seems to be little changed from the preced- ing day. The remembrance of his former visit has not passed away from her ; for the same ex- pression of pleasure passes over her countenance that brightened it then, when the same attendant informs her that " minister is come to pray with you again." A few words about Jesus and his dying love, and a short, earnest prayer, lead the thoughts of the old Christian up to God. Her faculties seem to brighten as the remembrance of her Saviour's gracious dealings with her, and the glorious future that lies before her, passes through her mind, and she gives repeated utter- ance to the expression, "Bless the Lord! " Leading her memory back upon the past, he questions her concerning the principal facts of her history, to ascertain, if possible, whether she is really of such advanced age as the facts before re- ferred to would seem to indicate. That she is I/O Romance Without Fiction. extremely old her appearance testifies ; and per- sons well advanced in age can only remember Moggy as a very old woman when they were very young. Her own account of herself has always been that she was brought from Africa in a slave- ship, and that she was stolen and carried off from her parents " when me pickaninny so, minister," placing her hand so as to indicate the height of a child some eight or ten years old. When she arrived in Jamaica it was four days after the earthquake that destroyed Port Royal, and the people who had escaped from that fearful visita- tion were living in sheds made of cocoa-nut leaves and branches of trees on the spot where the city of Kingston was afterward erected. He questions her minutely upon all these points, and she affirms that it is all true, and that she remembers it well. Carried off by violence from her father and moth- er, she was taken to the ship, and with many others, young and old, brought over the sea to Jamaica. They were a long time at sea ; and when the ship came to land she saw the ruins of the city, which had been partially swallowed up, and she was put ashore where the people were all living in sheds and tents. The town was built after that upon the same spot, and she had lived there ever since. She had belonged to several owners, had never been badly treated, but had never been made free. When the missionaries came she went to hear the preaching, and " found out that she was one great sinner; and she prayed to Massa Jesus, and he made her soul happy, and religion had made her In Slavery a Htindred and Forty Years. 1 7 1 happy all the time, and she was now going home to Jesus, to be happy forever." Moggy has no idea about the number of years which have transpired in connection with any part of her history. A few leading facts are firmly rooted in her memory, and these are held with tenacious grasp ; but of the lapse of time, measured by months and years, she has no conception. Her mind on that subject is a blank. "A long time ago " is all she knows about it. She cannot tell how long she has been in the Church ; but she knew Dr. Coke, and it was through Mr. Fish's preaching she was brought to God and made happy " a long time ago." She does not know how many years it is since she was brought to the country as a slave ; " it was long time ago," and it was " four days after de urtquake kill all de people at Port Royal." She is quite sure of that. She is unable to tell how old she was when bad men stole her from her country. " It was long time ago ; me pickaninny so " — endeavoring to describe the height of a child some three feet from the ground. These form the great landmarks of her life's histor;- And while thousands of inci- dents, which, for the time, were fraught with in- terest, have been blotted by the hand of time from her recollection, these remain, fixed and ineradi- cable, until the light of eternal day shall fully restore all the forgotten memories of the past, and stamp them sources of inexhaustible joy or woe to all eternity. It must be so ! Strange and incredible as it may 1^2 Romance Without Fiction. seem, there is no just reason to doubt it. There^ in that frail, shrunken specimen of humanity is one whose memory goes back to a period more than one hundred and forty years distant, one who has seen the changes and vicissitudes of at least one hundred and forty-eight years of experience in this world of evil. The great earthquake she refers to occurred in 1692. It is now A. D. 1834 ; and, allowing that she was six years of age when she was brought a slave to these shores, which she must have been to be able to remember these events so distinctly, she has now arrived at the ex- traordinary age of one hundred and forty-eight. Here is one who has passed through the unparal- leled term of more than one hundred and forty years of slave life. True, she has always been in kind hands, and has always been a domestic serv- ant, well fed and clothed ; never, like many others, having her flesh lacerated with the cruel whip. But she has been in bondage while nearly five gen- erations of men have passed across the stage of life ; and now the decree has gone forth that, in a few months, the wrongful system which makes human beings slaves under the British flag is to cease forever. But old Moggy will not live to see it. After one hundred and forty years and more of slavery she is to go down to the grave — still a bond- woman. This matters little, however. There is no slavery, no oppression, or wrong, in that better land she is passing to : for there is no more curse. No sighing shall be there. It is the region of In Slavery a Hundred and Forty Years. 173 unbroken rest and peace, where the loving Hand, once pierced for sin, shall wipe away the tears from every eye, and all the signs and sources of sorrow shall be forever dried up. There is one of whom it may well be said, is not this a wonderful instance of God's long-suffering goodness ? For when more than a hundred years of her mortal pilgrimage had passed away words of Divine mercy fell upon her ear ; light from heaven shone into the dark mind where scarce a ray of intelligence had ever beamed before. The fountain of penitence was opened in her breast ; and, going with a troubled heart to that precious Saviour, of whom now, for the first time in ten decades of life, she had heard, she cast her soul upon him in simple, childlike trust, and the guilt accumulating through a whole century of darkness and sin was, in great mercy, rolled away. Filled with peace and joy in believ- ing, a heaven of love rising up in her soul, she felt herself "A slave redeem'd from death and sin, A brand pluck'd from eternal fire ! " With what strange emotions the missionary gazes upon the shriveled, wasted form of old Moggy, retaining but little of the semblance of humanity, naught of the grace and beauty of the gentler sex ! He adores the riches of that grace which stooped to her in extreme old age, and in the degradation of slave-life, to bring her to the cross, dispel the gloom that had long settled upon her spirit, and, waking up the moral faculties 174 Romance Without Fiction. which had lain dormant for a century, make her a happy child of God and an heir of eternal life ! Once and again he repairs to that bedside to pour out his heart in prayer with this wonderful monu- ment of saving grace and mercy. But every time he appears there it becomes more and more evident that life is ebbing out at last, and the close of this lengthened earthly pilgrimage is close at hand. It is pleasing to observe the loving care with which those about her — bound to her by no ties of kindred and blood, but only sisters in the Church — minister to her age and helplessness, and surround her with cleanliness and comfort; smoothing the pillow of the dying saint with ten- der Christian sympathy to the end. The end soon comes. More and more the vital energies flag, until " Jesus " is the only word that is heard to dwell upon her withered lips. Even that, at length, is heard no more. She is motionless and just slight- ly breathing when the missionary kneels for the last time beside her, commending the departing spirit to its Savioijr, Before another sun gilds with its morning splendors the blue mountain tops of the land of springs, before the Sabbath has come round, old Moggy, probably the oldest human being on the earth, has ceased to be num- bered among the living — has " Found the rest we toil to find, Landed in the arms of God," Peaceful and gentle was the end of the poor aged slave woman. Without a motion or a sound In Slavery a Hundred and Forty Years. 175 she slowly ceased to breathe and live, and it was only when the withered limbs began to stiffen in the icy grasp of death that those about her were certified that the spirit had passed to its home. The same evening — for in the tropics delay in bury- ing the dead out of sight is inadmissible — the remains were deposited in the old burying-ground to the eastward of the city. There a goodly multitude await the fulfillment of Jehovah's decree of predes- tination concerning his saints, when, raised from the dust of death to a glorious immortality, they shall be "conformed to his image," "fashioned like unto his glorious body," " be like him," the physical with the moral and intellectual nature having been redeemed from the curse of sin Avith a price "all price beyond," and, rendered trans- cendently perfect, beautiful, and dazzling, " shall shine forth as the sun in the kingdom of their Father." This remarkable instance of protracted slave life does not stand alone. In the " Kingston Chronicle," (Jamaica,) June 14, 1819, there ap- peared the following notice : " Roger Hope Elletson died at the Hope estate on Monday, the 31st of May, aged upward of one hundred and forty years." The subject of this notice was generally called Old Hope., and was born and died a slave, having, like Old Moggy., existed in three centuries, and seen at least four generations of men pass across the stage of life. As in the other case, no written document or record proved his age ; but he too 176 Romance Without Fiction. had a remembrance of the great earthquake that destroyed Port Royal in 1692, and caused the founding of the city of Kingston. He was then a father, not less than eighteen or twenty years of age. In Long's History of Jamaica, published in 1774, speaking of the salubrious climate, and the frequent longevity of the inhabitants, the historian says : " I can remember three white inhabitants, each of whom exceeded one hundred years. I know others now living beyond ninety, and about five years ago I conversed with a negro man who remembered perfectly well the great earthquake which destroyed Port Royal in 1692, and by his own account he could not have been much under eighteen or twenty when that event happened. These persons were not, as in northern countries, decrepit or bedridden, but lively, and able to stir about, their appetites good, and their faculties moderately sound." It is generally understood that Old Hope was the negro man the historian conversed with, who was then nearly one hundred years of age, and survived that period forty-five years. His extreme age attracted to him the notice of Admiral Doug- las, and the intelligence he manifested made him a favorite object of the admiral's liberality and kindness so long as. he remained on the station. Old Hope was born a slave at Merryman's Hill, an old sugar plantation in the parish of St. An- drew, but he spent the greater part of his long life on the Hope estate, to which he had been sold when young. He had a perfect recollection of the In Slavery a Hundred and Forty Years, i "JJ terrible shocks of the great convulsion of nature that destroyed the capital of the island. He could also remember two other remarkable events which took place about the same time, although he failed to recollect the order of their occur- rence, except that the one was before and the other after the earthquake. The two events to which his memory thus went back in the distant past were a great storm, and an abortive attempt on the part of the French to effect a landing on the island. The great storm alluded to took place in 1689, three years before the earthquake, and the effort of the French to take the colony in slave named Toney, who died a few years before 1694, two years after that memorable event. He could not tell how long it was since he had done any work, but it was a great many years, and a on the same estate, eighty years of age, said, "Old Hope must be twice as old as myself, as he was an old man — too old to work — when I was a picka- ninny." Old Hope had never been sick that he could remember, and he never drank rum or any ardent spirit in the course of his life. From first to last he had always had good masters, from whom he received much kindness, and he never remembered having been treated with harshness or severity. Admiral Douglas had the portrait of this old slave painted, for the purpose of taking it to En- gland, believing Old Hope to be, as he probably then was, the oldest specimen of the human race alive upon the earth. This was in i8i7,two years 178 Romance Without Fiction. before his death. He was then not less than one hundred and forty-three years of age, yet he walked to Kingston, a distance from the Hope estate of between six and seven miles, without any over fatigue, whenever the artist required him to sit. At length the end of his long earthly pilgrimage came. An attack of intermittent fever greatly undermined his strength, so that it was with difficulty he could walk to the city and back after he recovered from it. But this he did two or three times. Through all these years he continued ignorant of the Gospel and the great salvation, and it was not until the shadows of the grave were drawing around him that he felt any concern about religion. About two months be- fore his death he desired to be " 7nade a Chris- tian y" and, in compliance with his earnest wishes, was taken to the parish church to be baptized on Easter Sunday, April 11, this being the only idea those about him had of making him a Christian. That the Spirit of God was, however, working upon his mind and heart was evident from the fact that as he drew near to his end those around him heard him engaged frequently in earnest prayer, though they could not always distinctly make out what he said. Living away from the city, and in the bondage of slave-life, he had had but few opportunities of coming to the light of saving truth. But that some scattered rays had reached him and penetrated his mind may justly be inferred from the earnest prayers which he In Slavery a Hundred and Forty Years. 1 79 offered up during the few weeks preceding his re- moval to another world. And may we not hope that He who heard the prayers of Cornelius before the glorious light of the Gospel came in contact with his mind, and who requires of men according to that which they have, and not according to that they have not, responded in saving mercy to the sincere but ignorant petitions of the aged unlet- tered slave ? Different, very different, however, were the death-bed prospects of old Moggy, who for many years had enjoyed the rich consolations of the Gospel, and rejoiced in the unclouded hope of eternal life. Old Hope never left the estate after he returned from being baptized, but during seven weeks his strength gradually declined, till at length the weary wheels of life stood still on Whit Monday, May 31, and the spirit that for nearly a century and a half had inhabited the shriveled tabernacle of clay passed to its destiny. His age was made out to be one hundred and forty-five. Eighteen years old when the earthquake occurred in 1692, which was the great landmark of his life, he sur- vived to 1819. 12 i8o Romance Without Fiction IX. The Rendezvous of the Buccaneers. Leagtibd with rapacious rovers of the main, Hayti's barbarian hunters harassM Spain ; A mammoth race, invincible in might. Rapine and massacre theu" gi-im delight, Peril their element: — o'er land and flood They carried fii-e and quench''d the flames with blood ; Defipairing captives hail'd them from the coasts ; They rush'd to conquest, led by Charib ghosts. — Montgomeey. fHE preceding sketch describes two remark- able cases of longevity, both of them relating to individuals who were held in slavery- through fourteen decades of human life, the age in both instances being determined by the memo- ry of a great and overwhelming catastrophe, which few who witnessed it could ever forget while they were capable of remembering anything. With re- gard to the aged disciple of Christ who, after a pilgrimage of one hundred and forty-eight years' duration, passed away from the world, in peace with God, and in joyful hope of being with him forever, the calamitous event determining her age marked a new era in her checkered life by fixing indelibly the period of her arrival as a slave upon a foreign shore. It marked a new era also in the history of the colony, inasmuch as it caused the seat of government to be trans- ferred to a new locality, and gave rise to the city The Rendezvous of tJie Buccaneers. i8i which from that time has been the mercantile capital of the island. By this appalling visitation the capital town with all the Government build- ings, the public records of the colon}% and most of the public and official men, was suddenly swept away and swallowed up. It was one of the most remarkable convulsions of nature of which any record has been made. The present town of Port Royal — for the town was not so entirely destroyed as not to admit of be- ing rebuilt on a smaller scale- -occupies a singu- lar position on the south side of Jamaica. About six or seven miles eastward of the city of Kings- ton a narrow tongue of land stretches out from the main shore, sloping off at first in a south-west- erly direction, and then running nearly parallel with the southern coast for nine or ten miles. This peniiisula, known as "The Palisades," in- closed a fine sheet of water from two to three miles in width, and forms a natural breakwater to one of the finest harbors in the world, large enough to afford anchorage for all the navies of Europe and America. It is very possible that the space occupied by this expanse of water was once solid ground, and has been made what it now is by the sinking of the land, through one of those natural convulsions which occasionally work such great changes in this part of the world. Some six or eight miles westward of Kingston the main coast makes a sudden curve, and stretches boldly out in a southern direction for some miles, forming at the southern extremity what is known 1 82 Romance Without Fiction. as Portland Point, and there exhibiting a bold rocky coast with an eastern aspect, upon the heights of which may be seen " The Battery of the Twelve Apostles." Further in, low down upon a marshy shore, is the strong military station of Fort Augusta, whose powerful batteries completely command the channel by which alone vessels of large tonnage can approach Kingston. Right op- posite, to the east of the Apostles' Battery, across a channel about four miles wide, is the town of Port Royal, situated at the extreme point of the tongue of land we have described, and almost sur- rounded by the sea. Around this point, frowning with powerful batteries, all vessels have to pass into Kingston harbor. The sharp captain that would slip off to sea without paying harbor dues finds it a difficult matter to accomplish. "The pass," which is necessary to clear his way, must be lodged with the proper official at Port Royal before his ship can be permitted to thread the in- tricate navigation which guards the approach to Port Royal Point, where it would be no difficult matter to sink a vessel in a very few minutes with the massive artillery that crowns the point in all directions. The tongue of land on which Port Royal stands is a bank of loose sand, resting upon the solid rocks far down beneath the surface of the waters. It is for some miles partly covered with stunted mangrove bushes. Half a mile to the eastward of the town three or four half-blighted, sickiy-look- ing cocoa-nut trees mark the spot which is the The Rendezvous of tJie Buccaneers. 183 burying-place of the inhabitants. The coffins are deposited in such holes as can be scooped out in the loose sand ; and being seldom sunk much below the surface, because of the shifting character of the ground, are sometimes, after the prevalence of strong winds which blow away the sand, left altogether bare and exposed, and the festering re- mains of mortality they have inclosed are ren- dered accessible to prowling birds of prey. Multi- tudes of sailors and officers of the British navy, and not a few officers and men belonging to the military service, cut down suddenly by the deadly fever familiarly known as "Yellow Jack," have found their last resting-place here. Both in the army and navy the Palisades of Jamaica are asso- ciated only with saddening thoughts of disease and death. Port Royal is the principal British naval station in the West Indies, and was in this respect much more important than it now is, before the head- quarters for the West India squadron were trans- ferred to Halifax, Nova Scotia. It possesses an extensive dock-yard, with massive stone buildings, and all the machinery and paraphernalia necessary for heaving down vessels of the largest class. It has also a very commodious and handsome naval hospital, where every thing is maintained in the high state of perfection essential to such an insti- tution. It possesses large ranges of batteries, and also extensive barracks for a considerable military force. The population of the town now consists largely of employes in connection with the naval 1.84 Romance Without Fiction. and military establishments, with a few tradesmen, dealers in provisions, and lodging-house keepers, who furnish accommodation to persons resorting thither for a sanitary change. There are no man- ufactures of any kind ; nor is there any cultivation of the soil beyond the growth of a few stunted shrubs and plants, for the whole is a bed of sand. There is no road extending beyond the narrow limits of the town ; the only access to the place being by boats in which provisions of all kinds are brought, chiefly from Kingston. There are no springs ; the inhabitants are supplied with water brought in sailing water-tanks from Rockfort, a distance of eight or nine miles. An Episcopal Church and a Baptist place of worship furnish op- portunity for the religious instruction of the peo- ple, together with a Wesleyan chapel and mission house, occupied by a resident minister as one of the outstations of the Kingston Circuit, and this has been the birthplace of many souls. It was in the time of Cromwell that Penn and Venables — both treacherous to the ruler who trusted them — after failing in the attack upon San Domingo, seized upon Jamaica, and wrested it from the hands of the Spaniards, that the expedi- tion they commanded might not return under the disgrace of having accomplished nothing. Then it was that Port Royal, because of its situation and capabilities for defense, became the capital of the British colony. Here, situated like ancient Tyre, in a position of commanding strength and import- ance, it became, like her, the seat of wealth and The Rcjidezvoiis of the Buccmieers. 185 power, and the mercantile rendezvous and empo- rium for the New World. Buildings suitable for all Government purposes were erected in the sea- girt town, and the governor and all the Govern- ment officials took up their abode here. It also became the head-quarters both of the army and navy, and here were established the principal courts of law. But that which raised Port Royal to great im- portance, and made it the depository of enormous wealth, was that, from its situation, so easy of ac- cess from the sea, it became the favored resort of the buccaneers, whose piratical plundering ex- ploits formed the theme of many a romantic tale, and made them the terror and the wonder of the New World. This formidable association of free- booters was called at first " Brethren of the Coast ;" but afterward they became better known under the designation of Buccaneers or Boucaniers. Occupying extensive hunting grounds in Hispani- ola — otherwise called San Domingo, and in more recent times Hayti — they hunted the immense herds of cattle with which the wide-spreading sa- vannas of that magnificent island abounded, and also the wild hogs which existed there in great numbers. For the skins of the slaughtered ani- mals they obtained a ready market ; and the flesh both of beeves and swine they preserved by dry- ing and smoking them in sheds, called by the In- dians boucans. The flesh thus prepared was said to be boucanee, and hence the title which became so famous and so terrible to the Spaniards. 1 86 Romance Without Fiction. The buccaneers were of different nations, but consisted largely of English ; men of desperate character and courage, who were rendered more reckless and ferocious by arrogant claims and proceedings on the part of the Spaniards. Rest- ing its pretensions upon the presumptuous Bull of Pope Alexander the Sixth, who assumed the right, as God's vicegerent upon earth, to dispose at his pleasure of all the islands and countries that might be discovered in the New World, Spain made an exclusive claim to those beautiful Western Isles as their mistress and owner. In asserting this claim the Spaniards sought to expel and get rid of the buccaneers by the same atrocious system of extermination which had been practiced toward the aboriginal Indians — murdering and destroying them wherever they met with them. This at- tempt recoiled with terrible effect upon them- selves. Treated as outlaws and pirates, the buc- caneers took up arms in self-defense, and formed among themselves a formidable and singular com- bination, possessing all things in common, and maintaining an inviolable fidelity toward each other, not always to be found in a more civilized condition of life. They became a terrible scourge to the Spaniards, spreading themselves over all the western seas, and capturing every Spanish ves- sel they could fall in with. They invaded and plundered the Spanish settlements in the islands and on the continent until their very name be- came a terror, and no Spaniard felt that he was safe in any part of the New World from the spirit TJie Rendezvous of the Buccaneers. 187 of desperate enterprise which possessed these for- midable adventurers. The buccaneers had their settlements in various parts of the West Indies, and the traveler who en- ters the land-locked harbor of St. Thomas looks up from the deck of the vessel to a ruined tower, crowning the summit of one of the three pyram- idal hills on which the town is built, which is still known as the Buccaneers' Tower. But Port Royal became the grand rendezvous of these free- booters of the Caribbean Sea. After waging a sort of piratical war for some years with the Span- iards on their own independent footing, in the reign of the second Charles the buccaneers were formally licensed as privateers. Under Morgan, their distinguished chieftain, who was afterward made an admiral and a member of the Privy Council of Jamaica, they performed prodigies of valor. As Sir Henry Morgan, Knight, this reck- less leader of the buccaneer forces was appointed to succeed Lord Carlisle as governor of the island, and the colony was enriched by his followers to an enormous extent, especially by the sacking of Panama and Portobello, two of the wealthiest of the Spanish settlements in the New World. The wealth poured into Port Royal by the buc- caneers was incalculable. They intercepted all vessels that traversed those seas, and every Span- ish ship was a rich prize. If going to the ports of the Indies, they were found to be stored with the choicest productions and manufactures of the home country — the glass of St. Ildefonso, the 1 88 Romance Without Fiction. silks and serges of Valencia, the porcelain of Al- cora, the platillas and cordage of Carthagena, the peculiar soap of Castile, the cutlery of Toledo, the fine wool of Spain's merino sheep, with the wine and oil and almonds and raisins produced by Spain in common with Italy and the Greek islands. If they were returning home to Europe, the Span- ish galleons were loaded with ingots of gold and silver. The disposal of these buccaneers' prizes, which were very numerous, made a golden har- vest for the wholesale merchant, while the riot and revelry of the sailors, spending with reckless prodigality their share of the plunder, enriched the retailers, and the traffic of this renowned mart laid the foundation of dowries for duchesses and endowments for earldoms. " If ever there was a hope anywhere," says one of Jamaica's most in- tellectual sons, Richard Hill, Esq., " of realizing the traveler's El Dorado, ' where the gold grew, and was to be had for the gathering ; where urchins played at cherry-pit with diamonds, and country wenches threaded rubies for necklaces instead of rowan-tree berries; where the pantiles were of pure gold, and the paving stones of virgin silver,' it was the Port Royal of the buccaneers." But as it rose in opulence Port Royal sunk into vice and wickedness. Rendered profligate by su- perabundance, and reckless by habitual violence, the buccaneers gathered around them all the worst elements of corruption and depravity. The inhab- itants, vitiated by boundless wealth and luxury, fell into a state of moral debasement not to be The Rendezvous of the Bticcaneers. 1 89 described, until vice and immorality of all kinds became rampant, as in the case of Sodom and Gomorrah, defying, while it provoked, the venge- ance of a just and holy God. At this time there was not perhaps so wealthy or so wicked a spot upon the face of the earth. Ungodliness in all its forms, crime in all its developments, abound- ed, when, as in the case of Sodom, the uplifted arm of vengeance fell upon it, blotting it, with its excess of wealth and wickedness, from the map of existence, and proclaiming to all generations, " Verily, there is a God that judgeth in the earth ! " It is the morning of a lovely day in June. The blue tropical sky is clear and cloudless, a scene of perfect beauty, reflected in the gently rolling waters of the Caribbean Sea. The glittering white sail, barely visible in the distance, marks here and there a ship bound to some western port to dis- charge the rich cargo with which she has crossed the Atlantic basin, or running before the trade- winds to pass through the Gulf of Mexico, where, although the wondrous attributes of the Gulf Stream are as yet not dreamed of, it is well known there are strong currents that help the mariner on his home- ward way. But the air is hot and sultry. Al- though the sun has nearly reached the meridian, no refreshing sea-breeze has through the forenoon rippled the slowly heaving surface of the ocean, whose waters, smooth and unbroken as a sheltered lake, seem to glisten fiercely as, like a silvered mirror, they throw back the fervid rays of the IQO RoMvVNCE Without Fiction. glowing orb which pours a burning heat upon every thing around. The leaves of the cocoa-nut palm, that wave to and fro with a gracefulness all their own when the cool, gentle breezes from the sea set them in motion, now droop in perfect still- ness, as if, under some powerful enchantment, they had been suddenly divested of all elasticity and life. The dogs, as they lazily creep into the very narrow strips of shadow cast from the houses beneath a nearly vertical sun, let their tongues hang from their mouths, as if they had not suffi- cient strength remaining to draw them in again. Goats, ordinarily so indifferent to the heat, repair to the grateful shade of any cocoa-nut tree or shrub that holds out the promise of protection from the scorching, glaring sunshine. Ladies in their dwellings, so planned as to admit of the most perfect ventilation, and with every door and window thrown wide open, sink down into the coolest spot, enervated and overcome by the heat. The sterner sex, stretched out at full length in the grass hammocks of Indian manufacture, or loung- ing in easy-chairs beneath the shade of the piazza, gasp for air, or else seek relief and coolness in the large rummer of Sangaree, or the glass of punch skillfully compounded, as taste may suggest, from the well-replenished spirit decanter on the one hand, and on the other from the large jug of well- spiced and sugared limejuice bevei-age which is always placed upon the sideboard shortly before midday. But they seek for it in vain. Notwith- standing these potent remedies they pant for air. The Rendezvous of the Buccaneers. 1 9 1 and feel the atmosphere to be intolerably oppress- ive. Even Quashie and Quamina, Jupiter and Venus, upon whom, as the slaves of the several establishments, devolve the activity of their re- spective households, and who seem to be gifted largely with the fabled properties of the salaman- der, feel the heat to be somewhat inconvenient, and exclaim, as they meet one another in the houses, stores, or streets, " Him bery hot, for true." All nature seems to languish in utter stag- nation. Worried out of life by the perverse, impractica- ble men he has had to deal with, and the difficul- ties of his position, the governor, the Earl of Inchiquin, has recently been consigned to the quiet of the grave, and the administration of the Government has consequently devolved upon the president of the council. Sir Francis Watson. This gentleman is seated under the shade of a wide-spreading piazza, in company with the rectoi of the town, and they agree together that it will be a very good thing to seek relief from the over- powering heat that oppresses them in the discus- sion of a glass of wormwood wine, as a whet to the appetite before dinner, and a pipe of tobacco. Little does the unfortunate president dream that the glass of wormwood wine he invites the rector to share with him will be the last taste of refresh- ment that is ever to pass his lips ; that the pipe, from which he is pufifing away clouds of smoke with so much enjoyment, is the last that shall ever be lighted by him. Yet so it is. 192 Romance Without Fiction. It is well we are not permitted to see far into our own future, or how much of life's enjoyment would be marred ! While the cloud rising up from the pipes of the two loungers is slowly curling around their heads, for there is no breath of wind to scatter and bear it away, and the dial indicates that in twenty minutes the sun will be in his merid- ian glory, the smokers become sensible of a gen- tle, tremulous motion beneath their feet. Their smoking is arrested, and the pipes are involuntarily drawn from their mouths. Immediately a more violent shock takes place, accompanied with the hollow, rolling noise so familiar to those who in- habit those western isles, and resembling the sound of a heavy wagon passing over a roughly paved road. The pipes drop from their hands as they rise alarmed from their seats. " Sir," says the rector, " what is that ? " More self-possessed than his companion, the president replies, "It is an earthquake : don't be afraid ; it will soon be over." But it is not destined to be so. Those are the last words to fall from his lips. He is never seen again ; never heard of more in connection with the earth. The rector, as soon as these words are spoken, and he realizes the idea of the calamity that is coming upon them, rushes at once out of the piazza, and makes his way toward an open space near Morgan's Fort, to escape from the danger of the falling houses, which he now sees crumbling into heaps of ruin in all directions ; for a third shock has succeeded, far more violent than the preceding ones, shaking down buildings of all The Rendezvous of the Buccaneers. 193 sizes, and burying multitudes, crushed out of all semblance to humanity, under the crumbling mass- es of stones and bricks and timber and rubbish which have fallen upon them. Earthquakes are among the most appalling of those destructive visitations to which men are liable ; they come so suddenly, and are ofttimes so terribly fraught with wide-spread ruin and death, from which there is no possibility of escape. No sign, no sound, heralds the approach of the dread enemy. The earth is reeling ; houses and build- ings all around are tottering and tumbling, and hundreds of souls are halfway to eternity before they realize the idea that the loud rumbling which fills the air, and which they have mistaken for that of a passing vehicle, is the fatal bellowing of the earthquake. More than once has the writer had his pen arrested at his desk, or been suddenly wakened up in the darkness and silence of the night, by the ominous sound, to perceive the ground trem- bling or waving to and fro, the windows and the furniture rattling, and the house shaking or un- dulating as if some giant grasp were laid upon it ; and to feel the irresistible conviction rushing upon his mind that danger, great and terrible, is impending close at hand, which, before a place of safety can be reached, may close in, bringing upon all around inevitable ruin and death. So it is with the inhabitants of the devoted town. In a moment the destruction, unthought-of, unavoidable, comes ! First, a slight trembling of 194 Romance Without Fiction. the earth for a few seconds, which becomes more and more violent, until every thing is shuddering and reeling. A loud, mysterious roar, seeming to proceed from the distant mountains, is heard, roll- ing onward, paralyzing the energies of all. And, before many have realized the idea that it is the earthquake, the greatest part of the town has crumbled and fallen. The receptacle of so much wealth, the scene of such abounding wickedness, sinks into the sea, and thousands of the inhabit- ants instantly disappear, literally swallowed up. The wharves, piled high with spoil and merchan- dise, are engulfed instantaneously ; and water stands some fathoms deep where, a few moments ago, the crowded streets displayed the glittering treasures of Mexico and Peru. The rector, leaving his boon companion, the president, to his fate, gains the open space near at hand, and is saved. But what appalling scenes present themselves to his view ! The ground is rolling and trembling under his feet, but it does not sink from beneath him. Close at hand, how- ever, he sees the earth open, and swallow up a multitude of people of all classes, who, terror- stricken, are rushing hither and thither, not know- ing where to fly for safety. Houses, stores, and wharves, the Government buildings and barracks, all sink before his eyes, far down into the deep ; and the sea, mounting in upon them in a vast tidal wave, comes rushing with stupendous sweep over the fortifications. The church and the large burial- ground disappear in a moment beneath the waters, The Reudcsvons of the Buccaneers. 195 while cofifins and carcasses, in all stages of decay, which have been deposited in the loose sand, float to the surface, adding to the ghastliness and terror of the scene. Shock follows shock in rapid succession. The air is filled with screams of anguish and cries of horror, mingled with, and partly drowned by, the rush of waters, and the crash of thousands of fall- ing edifices. Large fissures open in the earth, and then, by other shocks, are closed again, burying some persons alive altogether, leaving others, maimed and crushed and partially buried, with their heads and limbs appearing above ground for dogs and birds of prey to feed upon. In the openings of the earth the houses and the inhabit- ants sink down together ; and some of the latter are driven up again by the rushing in of the sea, and marvelously escape with life. This is the case with a French gentleman, named Lewis Galdy, who is swallowed up — engulfed with house and property — by one shock of the earthquake, and, by another shock that quickly follows, is thrown up, alive and uninjured, into the sea. Being rescued by a boat, he lives for many years to adore the gracious Providence that so wonder- fully delivered him from a sudden and painful death.* The sea, as well as the land, feels the * This gentleman, after the catastrophe, became a member of the local legislature, and lived for forty-four years after his wonderful deliverance. Dying at the advanced age of eighty, he was buried at Green Bay, opposite to Port Royal, at a short distance from the Apostles' Battery. In 1S44 the writer 13 196 Romance Without Fiction. throes of this great convulsion of nature ; and the water, which, in the absence of every breath of wind, has been all the morning smooth as glass, becomes suddenly and violently agitated, as if moved by a mighty storm. Thrown up into vast billows, which rise and fall with unaccountable violence, it drives many ships, with broken cables, from their anchor- age. The " Swan " frigate, with all her heavy guns, borne over the tops of the sunken houses, is left high and dry upon the land, in the midst of the ruins, affording a providential refuge to many un- fortunate persons who, saved themselves where such a multitude have perished, have been stripped visited the spot, and found the tomb, built of brick and covered with a slab of white marble, on which was sculptured a shield bearing a cock, two stars, and a crescent, with the motto, " Dieu sur tout!' Underneath was the following inscription, distinctly legible : " Here lies the body of Lewis Galdy, Es- quire, who departed this life at Port Royal the 22d December, 1736, aged eighty years. He was born at Montpellier, in France, but left that country for his religion and came to settle in this island, where he was swallowed up in the great earthquake in the year 1692, and. by the providence of God, was, by anothef shock, thrown into the sea, and miraculous- ly saved by swimming until a boat took him up. He lived many years after in great reputation, beloved by all who knew him, and much lamented at his death." Fragments of the marble had been chipped from the slab by visitors. And when the writer paid a second visit to the burial-place with his two daughters in April, 1867, he was greatly surprised to ficii that the tomb had been entirely demolished, and only just enough of the brick foundation remained to mark the spot, and show the size and shape of the structure that had covered Mr. Galdy's remains. TJie Rendezvous of the Buccaneers. igy in a moment of all they possessed, and left without even a shelter. So wide-spread is the desolation that only about two hundred houses, with one fort, are left, in a shattered and dismantled condition, where in the morning of that day stood in its pride the wealthy, gay, and busy city. Together with its enormous piles of precious merchandise, ingots of gold, bar- rels of pistoles and doubloons, and tierces of sil- ver— common almost as the sand in the streets — the city that trafficked in violence has sunk and disappeared in the depths of the sea, leaving the impoverished survivors to take up the lamentation for her that was uttered over ancient Tyre : " How art thou destroyed, that wast inhabited of seafaring men, the renowned city, which wast strong in the sea, she and her inhabitants, which cause their terror to be on all that haunt it! " Ezek. xxvi, 17. The ruins are still visible from the surface of the waters under which they lie, and buoys, placed above, still mark the spot, and admonish mariners that they may not drop their anchors there, lest they become inextricably entangled amid the stones and brickwork and massive timbers en- gulfed and swallowed up by the greedy sea. Terrible has been the destruction of human life. Fifteen hundred persons of note, including the president administering the Government, members of both branches of the Legislature, officers of the Government, judges, merchants — nearly all the principal men of the island — b}'^ one fell swoop have disappeared, with thousands upon thousands 198 Romance Without Fiction. of sailors, soldiers, artisans, and slaves. All in the morning of that bright sunny day were full of lusty life, little thinking of death or danger. The setting sun shines upon the waves, where, far down below, they lie slumbering in a watery grave. Not a public building remains, and all the public records and official papers of the col- ony have perished with those who had the care of them. Nor is the devastation confined to the principal city of the island. There, owing to the peculiar position and formation of the place, the ruin and destruction have been greatest ; but all over the island the earthquake has left the sad traces of its terrible power. The rocks on the opposite shore, near to Port Henderson and the Apostles' Bat- tery, have been rent into enormous caverns and fissures, from whence sulphurous steam is seen to gush for several days. The town of St. Jago de la Vega, founded, like Port Royal, by the Spaniards, is well-nigh destroyed. The well-compacted houses, built by Spanish skill, with a view to earthquake visitations, "are split and rent in all directions ; while those of more recent and less careful structure have crumbled into heaps, bury- ing, in many instances, the unfortunate inhabitants beneath them. So it is all over the island. The buildings on the plantations are shaken down, and hundreds, crushed under the ruins of their habita- tions, have found their graves in their own dwell- ings. The whole face of the country is changed, stupendous mountains being upheaved from their The Rendezvous of the Buccaneers. 199 foundations, and tossed about in wild confusion. There is scarely a mountain in the island that has not been altered in its outline, while the rivers, too, have changed their courses. On the princi- pal road through the island two mountains have been lifted up and thrown together, stopping up the bed of the river with huge masses of disjoint- ed rock, until the waters, collected in great force, and raised to an overwhelming height, burst their adamantine barrier, and, bearing all before them, force open a new passage for themselves, increas- ing, in their destructive sweep, the horrors which already abound. These are but the beginning of sorrows to the guilty land. One of the historians of the West Indies says, " The tremendous convulsions were repeated with little intermission, though with de- creasing violence, for the space of three weeks, and every fissure in the rocks, every cleft in the cracked and parching earth, was steaming with sulphurous fumes. The air reeked with noxious miasmata, and the sea exhaled an offensive, putrid vapor, which destroyed a great proportion of those destitute and wretched beings whom the convul- sion itself had spared. No fewer than three thou- sand were the victims of this dreadful endemic, and the few surviving inhabitants of Port Royal, who sought a refuge in temporary huts where Kingston now stands, were yet within reach of the contagious cause, for the dead bodies still floated in shoals about the harbor, and added horror to a scene which the pencil could not de- 200 Romance Without P'iction. lineate, much less the pen describe. The insup- portable heat of a tropical midsummer was not for many weeks refreshed even by a partial breath of air ; the sky blazed with irresistible fierceness, swarms of mosquitoes clouded the atmosphere, while the lively beauty of the mountain forests suddenly vanished, and the fresh verdure of the lowland scenery was changed to the russet gray of a northern winter. The cane fields were disfig- ured by masses of fallen rock, and presented to the eye a barren wilderness, parched and fur- rowed. Thus vanished the glory of the most flourishing emporium of the New World by a suc- cession of tremendous judgments, resembling those visitations of an offended Deity on some cities in the Old World, where an iniquitous race was over- whelmed in sudden and unexpected ruin. Large sums of money, arising from the treasures of un- known or lost proprietors, fell into, the hands of many individuals, and among others into those of Sir William Preston, who was charged by the As- sembly, ten years afterward, with having appro- priated a considerable share to his own use. One loss was irrecoverable, and is still severely felt : that of all the official papers and public records of the island, whose history is thereby rendered so obscure and incomplete." The Groundless Panic. 201 X. The Groundless Panic. Fear on guilt attends, and deeds of darkness : The virtuous breast ne'er knows it. — Howard. Desponding fear, of feeble fancies full. Weak and unmanly, loosens every power. — Thomson tTALFWAY between Hayti and Jamaica the X voyager on the Caribbean Sea first catches a glimpse of the blue mountains of " the land of springs," (for so Jamaica was called by its aboriginal inhabitants,) the towering hills of both islands being visible at the same time from the deck of the ship when the weather is clear. But the first land which he approaches is Morant Point, forming the south-eastern extremity of Ja- maica, and stretching out a considerable distance into the sea, so low and flat as not to be seen from a vessel's deck until she is close upon it. Morant Point has been exceedingly fatal to ships, many a gallant bark having struck upon this treacherous tongue of land before the slow progress of civil- ization, and the still slower growth of public spirit in the British colonies of the West Indies,. led to the erection of a light-house, whose beacon flame, gleaming over the dark waters, now admonishes the mariner of the danger upon which he might 202 Romance Without Fiction, have rushed. This eastern extremity of the island is comprised in the parish of St. Thomas, Jamaica being divided into parishes, several of which are almost equal in geographical extent to some En- glish counties. This part of the island offers to the admiring traveler many scenes of surpassing beauty. Looking southward from the low range of hills at the eastern commencement of that vast chain of mountains running right through the cen- ter of the island from east to west, intersected by thousands of magnificent ravines and fruitful valleys, the eye is greeted by a landscape of Kden-like grandeur and loveliness. Inclosed be- tween two ranges of rising lands, in a fork of the mountains open to the sea at one end, and termi- nating almost in a point at the other, lies what is called the Plantain-Garden-River District, nine or ten miles in length and several in width. It is the most fertile spot in one of the most fertile countries in the world, and is divided into a num- ber of sugar plantations, not surpassed in value by any in the colony, each of considerable extent, and possessing a soil of inexhaustible richness, which, with little or no aid of agricultural chem- istry, produces crop after crop from the same roots through a long succession of years, without any diminution either in quality or quantity. The lovely valley is seen covered with luxuriant cane- fields, ^nd studded at distant intervals with mass- ive and costly sugar works, and the commodious mansions of the proprietors, surrounded by the dwellings of various grades of estate officials, and, The Groimdless Panic. 203 farther off, with the numerous cottages of the peasantry. Toward the other extremity of this large parish the traveler gazes upon a scene of equal but some- what different grandeur. It is the Blue Mountain Valley. By the side of a broad but shallow river, whose usually gentle stream is swollen, in the rainy seasons, to a fierce, turgid, tumbling, impassa- ble torrent, the eye rests upon a plain dotted with sugar plantations, and rich with all the varied and luxuriant growth of the tropics. The upper end of the valley is closed in by the glorious mount- ain range, rising abruptly, and in such proximity as to produce upon the mind an almost overwhelm- ing sense of awe, out of the midst of which the Blue Mountain peak — the highest point of land in the island — is seen, a sublime and stupendous object, lifting its head, often in cloudless grandeur, and always fresh and verdant, nearly eight thou- sand feet above the level of the sea. But, amjd all this loveliness, the curse which sin introduced into the original Eden makes its influence felt. Beautiful, but proverbially unhealthy, the parish of St. Thomas in the East has been, in a most emphatic sense, the grave of Europeans. Few parts of the western coast of Africa have been more hostile to European health and life. The town of Morant Bay, occupying a picturesque situation, elevated considerably above the sea near the mouth of the Blue Mountain Valley, has been long noted for its unhealthiness. The graves of a large number of Christian missionaries, and numerous 204 Romance Without Fiction, members of missionaries' families, both in the church-yard and in the unpretending burial ground of the Methodists, bear silent but eloquent witness to the deadly character of the maladies which frequently prevail there. Morant Bay is the capital town of the parish, though scarcely equal in size and importance to many an English village. Here stands the church, which in the olden time, ere missionaries came, (when persons of African birth, or of African de- scent, were regarded as having no souls, and form- ing no part of the pastoral charge of the clergy,) was the only place of worship in a parish contain- ing some thirty thousand souls ! It is different now ; for several other Episcopal places of worship now exist in that parish, and also a goodly number of Methodist chapels. At some little distance, somewhat back from the main street, stands the Wesleyan chapel, its proportions considerably ex- tended, and its appearance greatly improved, since the advent of freedom. The old humble-looking edifice, near to which stood the mission house, was erected under the auspices of the good and unself- ish Dr. Coke, whose private fortune, doubtless, contributed largely to the establishment of the mission here which, during more than half a century, has brought life and salvation to thousands of the benighted race of Africa. At the beginning of the present century some colored local preachers belonging to the Meth- odist Society in Kingston found their way to Morant Bay, and gave to the swarming multitudes The Groundless Panic. 205 of the neighborhood a first opportunity of hear- ing the truths of the Gospel. For, even when service was held in the parish church, (which was only when it suited the convenience of the rector,) its doors opened only to those who could boast of a white complexion. Divine power attended the word preached by these humble messengers of truth, and many, both slave and free, were brought into the liberty of the children of God. Messrs. Fish and Campbell, the missionaries in the city, soon visited the neighborhood, and one of the most fruitful of all our West India stations was es- tablished. In the face of such reproach, of vio- lence and persecution, the foundations of a pros- perous Church was laid. But the enemies of the truth did not rest satisfied with mobbing preachers, annoying and insulting those who assembled to worship, and subjecting praying slaves to the gyves and the cart-whip. To Morant Bay, and the magistrates and planters of St. Thomas in the East, belongs the unenviable distinction of origin- ating that system of legal persecution of Christian teachers, and statuary opposition to the religious instruction of the down-trodden negro, that dis- honored Jamaica from the opening of the present century until religious liberty was finally secured to all classes in the British West Indies, by the enactment of the imperial legislature which broke the power of the oppressor, and gave back the rights of humanity to the slave. To the influence and representations of the planters and magistrates of this parish was it owing that the island legis- 2o6 Romance Without Fiction. lature was induced to pass the first of a series of oppressive laws which, through a succession of years, caused the imprisonment of many mission- aries, and which will remain for generations yet to come dark blots upon the statute book of the colony. The incidents of our tale carry us back to an early date in the present century, when the preach- ing of the Methodists is as yet somewhat of a novelty in this part of the island, and the members of the Society are comparatively few. A death has taken place on one of the plantations — no ex- traordinary occurrence that ! It is a female slave, worn out by excessive toil and hardship, who has passed away to an unbroken rest : for she is one of the earliest fruits of missionary labor at this station. Having sought and realized the hallow- ing and elevating joys of true religion, through faith in the blood of the Lamb, she has departed in peace to join the blood-washed multitude be- fore the throne, who " hunger no more, neither thirst any more, neither doth the sun light on them, nor any heat." Her Christian course has been a brief one, (for but recently she first heard of God, and Christ, and salvation, and heaven,) but how great and blessed the change Avhich has crowned it ! — from the blood-stained plantation to the celestial paradise ; from a wretched, unfur- nished hovel, to the mansions of light and glory ; from the toil-worn and bleeding slave-gang to the glorious company of angels, and the spirits of the just made perfect; from the horrible discipline of The Groundless Panic. 207 the bilboes, and the cat, and the cart-whip, and the wasting, weary toil of the cane-field, to that " fullness of joy," and those " pleasures for ever- more," which are at the right hand of God ! Who can wonder that the Gospel should have proved thrice welcome, both in our own colonies, and in the Southern States of America, to the desponding and heart-crushed captive? A slave can own nothing — not even his own body, or the worthless rags that cover it. Body, soul, time, labor, clothing — all he is, and all he has — belong to his owner. In yonder poor hut, which she inhabits no longer, there is the coarse box or trunk, wherein the departed negress was accustomed to keep the few scanty articles of ap- parel she used to wear — the cherished Sunday suit, very humble, but donned only when the cov- eted opportunity came, which was but seldom, of bending her steps to the house of God. This box and its contents fall now into the possession of plantation officials, probably to furnish the ward- robe of some unhappy creature just landed from the slave-ship, after a miserable and soul-sicken- ing voyage from the coast of her native Africa, to fill up the vacancy on the estate which death, with so little regard to the interests of the great man who owns the plantation and its slaves, has re- cently made. Along with the rest of the few arti- cles in the box there is found, very carefully folded in a fragment of old cloth, and put away in a corner, a small oblong piece of paper, upon which, in addition to several hieroglyphics, there 2o8 Romance Without Fiction. is printed in fair legible type a text of Scripture : " The kingdom of heaven suffereth violence, and the violent take it by force." The book-keeper, one of the officials, (so called, it has been said, *' because he never sees a book,") greatly sur- prised, takes the mysterious paper in hand and examines it in all possible ways — back and front, right side up and upside down — but he is alto- gether at a loss to understand what it means. He is just scholar enough to spell out the plain words ; but there are other printed characters — " Matt. xi, 12" — of which he can make nothing at all, and as to the few marks, evidently made with pen and ink, on different parts of the paper, they are altogether a mystery that he is unable to fathom. But he has a dreamy apprehension that there must be in all this something very wrong and very ter- rible. The scrap of paper is taken and shown to other white officials of the estate, including book-keep- ers, head mason, head carpenter, etc., etc. But beyond reading the printed words they can make nothing of it, until one, a little more clever than his fellows, succeeds in spelling out in part of the writing the name of the deceased slave. This is startling, and only deepens the mystery, for where could she have got that piece of paper with the threatening language printed on it ? and who could have written her name upon it ? It is evident there is something very wrong about the matter, and with all haste the suspected document is car- ried to the overseer of the estate. The "busha" The Groundless Panic. 209 — the negro ccntraction of overseer — takes the pa- per from his subordinates after hearing the alarm- ing details of its discovery. He is an older hand than they, and he has heard more about the sedi- tious preaching of the missionaries, and is more familiar with rumors of conspiracy and insurrec- tion than his subordinates, most of whom, adven- turers from Scotland, have not themselves very long landed. The more he looks at the paper, and at the inexplicable words and marks it bears, and the more he thinks of the strange circum- stances in which it has been brought to light, the more excited and alarmed he becomes, until at length he arrives at the satisfactory conclusion that he has in his hands a clue to one of those dire conspiracies which have so often horrified the imaginations of the planters ; for there is manifestly, he thinks, some dark and terrible meaning wrapped up in those significant words about the violent taking something by force. Inflated not a little with a flattering idea of the discovery he has made — his fancy meantime run- ning riot in scenes of insurrection, burning plan- tations, militia marchings and countermarchings, slaughtered negroes, courts-martial, and military executions, and not without some glimmering an- ticipations of honor, patronage, and profit which are to reward his own meritorious sagacity and zeal — the overseer gives orders for his horse to be saddled with all possible haste, and, without the loss of a minute, gallops off with the cabalistic paper to the residence of the cusios. (Such is the 2IO Romance Without Fiction, title of the chief magistrate of a Jamaica parish, something analogous to that of a lord-lieutenant of an English county.) The hour is unseasonable, (for by this time the day is far advanced,) and it is a question whether the custos will see him, or in- deed whether " his honor " is likely to be in a state fit for the transaction of public business. In truth, after imbibing all the punch and other fluids which they think necessary to supply the rapid exhaustion of physical power within the tropics, some of these dignitaries are not usually quite up to the mark for important official duty in the latter part of the day. But here is a matter admitting of no delay. Fit or unfit, sober or oth- erwise, the great man must soon be seen. The name of the overseer is accordingly sent in, with an intimation that business of the greatest ur- gency, as connected with the public safety, brings him hither. To the request for an interview, so enforced, there can be no denial, and the visitor is shown into the great man's presence. The strange paper is produced, and the circumstances of its discovery are fully explained to the legal functionary, who looks very grave, for he, like the overseer, can make nothing of it, except that some awful conspiracy is on foot, for the tracing and suppression of which prompt and decisive meas- ures must be taken. Having, with the aid of the overseer's logic, got this conviction firmly settled in his mind, the cus- tos concludes there is not a moment to be lost. Special messengers are at once dispatched to The Grciindlcss Panic. 2ii summon all the magistrates in the vicinity to meet him at an early hour next day on very spe- cial business, while other messengers are sent off by his orders (for he acts in a twofold capacity) to assemble as large a force of the militia as can be brought together at the court-house during the night or early in the morning, all fully armed and accoutered for whatever service may be demanded at their hands. From one plantation to another the alarm is sounded, and the peaceable inhab- itants of the town are startled at all hours through- out the night by the noisy gathering of those who compose this force, and of their attendants, who come rattling through the generally quiet streets as if they were followed by a pursuing army. Soon sleep is banished from all eyes by rumors of a most bloody insurrection that has broken out already, or is on the point of breaking out among the servile population. None can tell where the danger lies, whether it is in some distant part of the island, or close at their own doors ; but that there is danger, very great and imminent, none can doubt, or wherefore all this stir } The dawn brings no relief, but rather adds to the confusion and alarm, for more and more of the planters (who chiefly compose the militia force) from all the estates within a distance of some miles are seen, with every indication of haste, hurrying through the town, with their soldierly equipments ; and at an unusually early hour the magistrates from different parts of the parish, followed by ucgro boys riding upon mules, are also seen driv- 14 212 Romance Without Fiction. ing with haste in the direction of the court-house. Every thing seems to imply that a crisis is at hand, which the authorities regard as one of the greatest importance. A considerable number of the learned magis- trates of the parish, with the custos at their head, are soon in profound deliberation. What serves to increase the alarm among the uninitiated is the fact that they carry on their deliberations with closed doors. All approach, except for the i^riv- ileged, is carefully forbidden by armed sentinels. In this conclave of parish magnates there is great excitement. All are anxious to be put in posses- sion of the particulars of the horrid conspiracy which has been discovered. When a sufficient number of the dignitaries have assembled the business is opened. The important paper is pro- duced, and the overseer, not a little elevated in his own estimation, is called upon to state all the circumstances which led to the discovery of the seditious document before the meeting, for that is the character which by general consent has been fixed upon the ticket. Nothing loth, he addresses himself to the task. Their worships are duly in- formed, with all minuteness of detail, when and where and how the paper was found. Next are rehearsed the opinions and surmises which have been entertained by the different parties con- cerned in making the discovery. To all this is added the statement, which has been gleaned up by some means, that the deceased slave, whose name is on the paper, had been for some time in the The Groimdless Panic. 213 habit of going to the Methodist chapel at the Bay, and that since she went thither a great change had taken place in her habits and appearance. In fact she became much more reserved and thoughtful than she used to be, as if she had something more than usual upon her mind. She now took no part, as she had been wont to do, in the dances and revels which the other slaves on the estate got up occasionally. All this, of course, is regarded as matter of grave suspicion, and, after long consultation, there is but one opinion among that sagacious and learned body of magistrates, that it is a case pregnant with great danger to the country, and demanding most prompt and careful inquiry. After several long hours spent in discussion, (so earnest and exhausting as to demand a very liberal expenditure of wine, punch, or brandy,) it is re- solved to send out all the militia that can be spared, a sufficient force being kept in reserve for the defense of the town ; though no one can say what possible danger threatens it, or whence any is likely to proceed. Further, that all' the huts, etc., belonging to the estates in the neighborhood where the slave has died, under such suspicion, should be at once rigorously searched. The question has been long and earnestly debated, whether a dispatch shall be sent immediately to the governor, calling upon him to proclaim martial law in the parish, or, if he think it better, through- out the island ; but it is determined that the further consideration of that proposal shall be 214 Romance Without Fiction. postponed until the result of the proposed search of the huts, etc., shall have been ascertained. The necessary orders are now issued, and it is with no little pride, and with a very large degree of bustling importance, that the militia officers muster and parade the men under their command in several detachments, before marching forth on the grand expedition assigned to them. Still the cause of these various movements remains to all, except the magistrates and the militia officers, a profound secret ; but the towns-people are addi- tionally terrified when they hear that a large quan- tity of ammunition has been served out to the soldiers, and when they see one body aftei another of these heroes marching away by different routes into the country, but mostly in one certain direction. Business is entirely suspended, and a vague feeling of apprehension is prevalent in all minds. Meanwhile the detachments of the militia pro- ceed to their destination, and, to the great terror of the several slave-gangs, present themselves in all their red-coat glory on the different plantations. With no excessive affectation of gentleness or delicacy, (for what need is there of gentleness or delicacy toward negro slaves ?) they execute their commission, and every house is subjected to an unceremonious search. If a door is fastened, it is not a difficult matter to break it down ; and if a box should chance to have a lock, or other fasten- ing, it is easily smashed with the butt-end of a musket. There is very little to examine, indeed, The Groundless Panic. 215 when by this summary process the boxes have been made to give their contents to the light ; but pres- ently there is much excitement among the busy detectives, for, sure enough, in several of the boxes are found scraps of paper, not unlike that above described, which, they now learn from their offi- cers, are the very objects of the search. Each one, carefully deposited among the few articles of wearing apparel in the box or trunk, is found to be identical with that seditious document which has created such a sensation. From one hut to another the soldiers proceed, now wrought up to an almost overpowering excess of earnestness and zeal, and their exertions are rewarded by the dis- covery of more than a hundred of these papers, the owners of which, one and all, are taken into custody, their arms fastened behind them. From them the important information is obtained that all these papers have been given out by the Meth- odist preacher. There they are, all bearing the same mysterious and threatening words, " The kingdom of heaven suffereth violence, and the violent take it by force," having the same written marks; the only difference being, that each paper bears the name of the person in whose possession it was found. " What can possibly be more plain 1 " say some. " Here is ample and unques- tionable evidence of a wide-spreading conspiiacy among the slaves, at the head of which is the Methodist preacher ! We have always accused these parsons of seditious preaching, and here we have proof of the fact — proof strong as holy writ ! " 2i6 Romance Without Fiction. Who can describe the triumph with which these military gentlemen exult over the magnificent success which has crowned their expedition ? And who shall picture the excitement of the towns- people ? — not, however, unmixed with a sense of relief, when they behold scores of wretched cap- tives, securely bound, marched into the town sur- rounded by fixed bayonets ; all of whom, they are assured, are the leaders of the insurrection which was on the point of breaking out. And now rumor, with her hundred tongues, is busy. Through the town and through the parish the intelligence swiftly spreads that a most sanguinary revolt has been nipped in the bud. And soon, through the medium of the newspapers, the public, from the east to the west of the island, are startled by the intelligence from St. Thomas in the East that seditious meetings have been held in the houses of the slaves at midnight ; that the negroes have been corrupted, and led to rebellion, by the preaching of the Methodists ; that a large quanti- ty of seditious papers have been seized; and that, by the prompt and courageous conduct of the custos and the magistrates, anfl the bravery of the militia, " beyond all praise," the island has been rescued from the horrors of a servile war. It is deemed advisable by the authorities to place a strong militia force upon the several plan- tations where these papers have been seized to prevent the rising of the slaves, who, poor crea- tures ! have no more thought of any insurrec- tionary movement than of attempting to uproot The Groundless Panic. 217 the Blue Mountains, to which they are accus- tomed daily to lift their eyes. They take alarm, however, and wonder what all this commotion is about, and what is the meaning of the rude and unceremonious searching of their lowly dwellings. And they are still more amazed when they see a large number of their fellows, whose houses and boxes have been broken open, tied and marched off to the Bay. The venerable magistrates have been very busy in consequence of the important discoveries made, of which a full account has been sent off by an express messenger to the king's house, at the seat of Government. A few days have elapsed, and all the justices of the parish as- sembled in special session ; yea, and some from the adjoining parishes, who, terror-struck by the reports in circulation, have come as spectators of the proceedings. Not a few of them loom very large in the proud adorning of military costume, being holders both of civil and military commis- sions ; and such an opportunity of showing off in the blazonry of war is not to pass unimproved. Some time is spent in preliminary discussion, until, all things being ready, a party is dispatched to request the attendance of the Methodist preacher at the court-house, strong enough, by the way, to insure a compliance with the magisterial mandate should there be any difficulty in obeying it. But no compulsion is required : Methodist preachers being in the habit of paying due respect to " the powers that be," as a part of their religion. The missionary, who, like all others, has been studi- 2i8 Romance Without Fiction, ously kept in the dark as to the cause of the un- usual stir, begins, however, as he prepares to ac- company the military messengers, to ask himself what he can have to do with these strange proceed- ings, and what sort of service the magistrates can wish him to render on the occasion of a conspiracy, real or fancied. It never enters into his mind that any charge can be made against himself. Ready for any lawful service to which he may be put, with willing step he wends his way to the court-house, and is at once introduced into the presence of the " powers " awaiting his arrival. On looking around he observes that a deep gravity marks the countenance of almost every one ; and it is clear that his appearance, though fully expected, has caused no little sensation. It is no small trial to his modesty when he finds himself the observed of all observers, and he soon perceives that it is any thing but a friendly gaze which is directed toward him by the custos and his associates. A dark frown meets his eye in one direction, and the scowl of a fierce malignity in another; while the conviction forces itself upon him that, whatever may be the purpose, it is no amicable interview with these legal dignitaries to which he has been summoned. He is not left long in doubt. After some whis- pering with his brother magistrates, the custos pro- ceeds, with a good deal of appropriate circumlo- cution, to open the business, and explain to the wondering missionary that a discovery has been made of a wide-spread conspiracy against the The Groundless Panic. 219 peace and welfare of the colony ; that a search ha's been instituted which has resulted in the seiz- ure of a large quantity of papers of evil character and tendency ; that many slaves implicated in the conspiracy, in whose possession these papers were found concealed, have been arrested, and are now in custody ; and that, by the confession of many of these prisoners, the whole conspiracy has been traced to him as its mainspring and source, inas- much as they had received the papers from his hands ; and that he must consider himself now in custody on the very serious charge of rebellion. At first, as the speaker proceeds, charging home these serious offenses upon himself, the missionary is astounded and overwhelmed by the accusation, thinking it quite possible, from the spirit of invet- erate hostility with which Christian efforts have been uniformly met by the planters in this neigh- borhood, that some wicked plot has been devised against him. But the tediousness of the custos, who has made the most of this occasion to display his stumbling and stammering eloquence, has been so far favorable to the accused that it has given him time to recover self-possession, and long be- fore the elaborate and rambling address of the great man has reached its finale the guiltless preacher is ready to confront the accusation and his accusers. Being called upon to say what reply he has to make to this grave charge, he, first of all, requests permission to look at some of those papers of seditious character and tendency which he is accused of having circulated. A lengthv consul- 220 Romance Without Fiction. tation now takes place among the officials on the bench, and it appears there is no little difficulty about the matter. For first one of these gentle- men is called, and then another, from different parts of the room, to the consultation, the whole of which is carried on in a low tone, so that noth- ing may reach the missionary's ear. At length the custos announces that the bench, after due delib- eration, and with a willingness to grant any in- dulgence to one in his situation, have agreed to comply with his request, and a paper, which ap- pears to him surprisingly small, (considering the character which has been given to it,) is handed to the accused, with the intimation that it is only one of a large number in the hands of the magis- trates. That one, he is told, was found in the box of a dead slave, but many others have been discovered in the possession of living slaves, who confess to having received them from the hands of the Methodist minister. As the paper is handed to him every eye in the room is directed toward the missionary. At first an expression of unutter- able astonishment is visible on his countenance, which some of the observers regard as an indubi- table sign of guilt, but in a few seconds this gives place to the broad smile which a keen sense of the ludicrous is apt to call forth, an^ it becomes evi- dent to them all that the black-coated gentleman is restrained by a sense of the respect due to the court, and by that only, from giving way to an exuberant tide of mirth, which it would be some relief to him to indulge. TJie Grotindless Panic. 221 Not a little surprised, and somewhat offended, by a result so contrary to the expectations of the grave assembly, every member of which has had visions before his mind's eye of a man in a black coat swinging upon the gallows, the acstos inquires of the reverend gentleman what he has to say con- cerning that paper, and the others like it, and whether it is true that these documents have been distributed by him among the slaves. Certainly he cannot deny, and he does not wish to disguise it, that he gave that paper to the deceased slave, and that he has given out many of a similar de- scription to other persons, both free and slaves, a piece of intelligence which goes to confirm their worst suspicions. But great is their astonishment, not unmixed with doubt, when, with smiling grav- ity, he proceeds to inform them that the " sedi- tious " paper, which has so alarmed their honors, and spread such terror through the parish, is noth- ing more or less than a Methodist Ticket., given as a token of membership to all those who constitute the Societies or Churches of the body, and de- signed to show that the holders are entitled to the privilege of Christian communion. It is amusing to see the somewhat stolid features of the chief magistrate assume an expression of blank amaze- ment, which is shared, more or less, by those about him ; but one or two, who have wit to discern and appreciate the absurdity of the whole proceeding, look a little quizzical, half ashamed to feel that they have been betrayed into a false position. " But, sir," says the cusfos, by no means disposed 222 Romance Without Fiction. to admit the explanation that has been given, " how do you account for the highly inflammatory and dangerous words which we find upon this paper? Answer me that, sir! answer me that!" " Most readily, sir," replies the missionary. " Those words, which you regard as inflammatory and dangerous, are taken from the Holy Script- ures." Here looks of incredulity pass from one to another, while the missionary continues his ex- planation : " It is a passage which contains an ex- hortation to press into 'the kingdom of God,' and to ' fight the good fight of faith ' against all that oppose the salvation of our souls. Those words, sir, were certainly never intended by Him who first used them, or by his ministers, to stir up any one to commit violence against ' the powers that be.' His teaching — and ours, we hope, is in ac- cordance with it — instructs all to be subject to those powers, ' not only for wrath, but for con- science'sake.' " " A passage of Scripture!" re- plies his honor; "no such thing! I don't believe it ! I don't think those inflammatory words are to be found in the Bible ! " A Bible is called for, but there is none at hand, and while one is looked up (for there ought to be one somewhere, which has been occasionally used for administering the oath to witnesses at the quarter sessions) one of the magistrates, a Scotchman, comes forward from a distant corner, and says, " Excuse me, your honor, but I think I remember reading some such words in the Bible when I was a boy. I am dis- posed to believe, after all, the gentleman is cor- The Gro7indless Panic. 223 rect." This leads to a little discussion, and by the time it is finished the old tattered fragment of a Bible, which forms part of the court-house furni- ture, has been found. There is not a great deal of the Old Testament left, after long and rough service, and only a small portion of the New ; but, fortunately, the Gospel of Matthew is there, or as much of it as serves the purpose. And now the learned magistrates are astonished by another dis- covery, of which none of them seem to have the least conception, namely, that the strange marks, " Matt, xi, 12," only mean that the words printed on the card are to be found in the eleventh chap- ter of St. Matthew's Gospel, and at the twelfth verse ! On reference to the place thus indicated, there, to the sad discomfiture of the learned custos, are found the very words which have caused so much dismay. All this, however, does not satisfy his honor and some of his compeers that there is not something very wrong in the business. The explanation given by the missionary shows that there is to be some "fighting" in the case, and their minds are so prepossessed with visions of insurrection and re- volt, massacre and blood, blazing cane-fields and burning sugar-works, that, notwithstanding what has been said, they are more than half persuaded that the issuing of these papers is part of a scheme designed to work out all these dreadful results ; so the missionary is likely, after all, to experience some trouble before he succeeds in getting out of the hands of these intelligent guardians of the 224 Romance Without Fiction. public peace. But the Scotchman, who possesses a little more penetration and shrewdness than others about him, and who is less disposed than many of them to conclude that treason and rebell- ion must of necessity be a principal object of a Methodist preacher, again comes from his corner, and, in a short and pithy address to his learned colleagues, observes, " Your honor, the words on the cards are certainly taken from the Scriptures, though none of us were aware of it until the mis- sionary showed that it was so. But, whether they are taken from the Bible or not, they scarcely ad- mit of the construction that has been put upon them, for although Jamaica is truly a very fine and prosperous country, yet, with all its delights, it can in no wise be called ' the kingdom of heaven.' I presume, therefore, to suggest to your honor and my brother magistrates that as what the gentleman has said about the words being in the Bible turn out to be true, and we do not seem to know much about such matters ourselves, and as no overt act of rebellion has been committed, we may venture to take the word of the Methodist parson for once, and accept as satisfactory the ex- planation which he has given of this very suspicious business." A few of the magistrates have by this time stolen away very quietly, the affair having assumed an aspect perfectly ludicrous. After a little pri- vate consultation among themselves, the suggestion made by the Scotch gentleman is accepted by those who remain, who have failed to perceive The Groundless Panic. 22$ the small spice of irony with which it was tinct- ured ; but it is considered advisable that the custos should cover the retreat of the learned body by delivering a suitable admonition to the sup- posed culprit before he is discharged. With all the gravity and impressiveness he can command, the chief magistrate proceeds to this important task, which he accomplishes to the profound satis- faction both of himself and of the body of which he is the distinguished head : " Mr. , w^e are satisfied with your explanation of the present affair. But a word of caution may be useful to you. And mind, sir, we have our eyes upon you. We have no objection to your preaching to our negroes, provided you do so properly. Tell them to be good servants, sir. Tell them not to lie to their masters, nor to steal from them. Tell them not to be runaways, but to stay at home, and mind and do their masters' work. Preach this to them, sir, and welcome. But no faith, no faith, sir, if you please. Don't let us hear of your preaching faith, sir. No, no ; we'll have no faith — no faith. Our negroes must not be corrupted wath such a doc- trine as that. Take care then, sir. Our eyes are upon you, sir. Take care, and don't let us catch you preaching faith to them. You can now retire, sir." The missionary bows low at the conclusion of this remarkable address, and, without attempting a reply, bends his steps homeward, vastly amused, if not greatly edified, by the unique specimen of elocution to which he has just listened. The 226 Romance Without Fiction. magisterial conclave breaks up, each retiring somewhat crestfallen, to his home. The next thing is the recalling of the militia from the plan- tations, on which they have been keeping vigilant guard against the apprehended outbreak. The slave prisoners are brought out of the stifling cells in which they have been crowded, and bidden to go back to the estates to which they respectively belong, still profoundly ignorant concerning the crimes which have caused their imprisonment. The excitement in the town subsides almost as rapidly as it arose ; business resumes its usual course ; and so ends the " rebellion " which has spread terror throughout the island from Manchio- neal to Negril, filled the newspapers with wild and groundless rumors, and occasioned such an amount of perplexity and trouble to the wise men of the east in Jamaica. N. B. — The Scotch magistrate became a kind friend of the missionaries in this part of the island ; and it was partly through his influence that, some years afterAvard, the parish authorities voted a grant of ;^ioo to the widow of a young and laborious missionary who had fallen a victim to the Morant Bay fever. The Lost Missionary. 22^ IX. The Lost Missionary. Of thousands thou both sepulcher and pall, Old Ocean, art ! A requiem o'er the dead. From out thy gloomy cells A tale of mourning tells, — Tells of man's woe and fall, his sinless glory fled, — Dana. .^3 EBE NON BONUM. Such were the words (IL^J. in Roman capitals, about an inch in length, and cut deeply in the solid wood, that I found engraved on the massive railing that sepa- rated the raised quarter-deck from the main-deck of the vessel in the good barque " Hebe." It was in the year 1831 that she was bearing me, with my young wife and two other missionaries, across the Atlantic, to the scene of our intended labors in the isles of the Caribbean Sea, where slavery held more than three quarters of a million of human beings in its cruel grasp ; and the yellow fever had been making havoc of the missionary band, who, in the face of bitter, relentless persecu- tion, were toiling with self-denying zeal to light up the dark path of the children of oppression with the bright hope of life and immortality be- yond the grave. The " Hebe " was from London, commanded by Captain Lawson. The owner, Captain Weller, was also on board, acting as su- 15 228 Romance Without Fiction. percargo, and looking well to the comfort of the twenty-nine passengers who had embarked in his ship for their several destinations in the West. " ''Hebe non bonum! ' What, Captain Weller," I asked, " is the meaning of this inscription, so derogatory to the character of the fine ship that is bearing us so comfortably and safely to our new homes .-' " " Ah ! " replied he, " there is a mel- ancholy story connected with that inscription. Those letters were cut, as you see them, by a hand that was cold in death an hour after the in- scription was completed. It was the last act of poor Snelgrove, who, as you will doubtless have heard, was lost overboard last year on the banks of Newfoundland, when the ship was bound to New Brunswick. He had been occupied for an hour or two in cutting out those letters with his penknife when the accident occurred which, in a moment, cut off the promise of a devoted and use- ful life." This reply of the captain, while it invested the few simple words on which my eye was resting with a thrilling interest, awakened a crowd of memories which passed vividly before my mind ; for I had been associated for a short season with the young missionary whose career of usefulness had been cut short even before it had well com- menced. About a year before the inscription first met my gaze, I was one of a band of some twelve or fifteen young men assembled at the Wesleyan Mission House in Hatton Garden, London, all of whom The Lost Missionary. 229 were destined for employment in the wide field of Wesleyan missions. Several of them had al- ready received their appointment, and were wait- ing until the vessels should be ready to sail which had been selected to convey them to their spheres of toil in various parts of the world. Others were waiting for the usual examination before the Mis- sionary Committee, having been recommended by their several District Meetings for the mission work. Several more, of whom I was one, had been already approved and accepted, and .were about to return home to await the call of the Committee when openings should occur in the missions to create a demand for their services. While thus providentially thrown together for a few days, having never met before, and certain, when once scattered, never to come together again in this life, these young devotees of the missionary cause set apart each afternoon for mutual prayer and Christian fellowship. An upper chamber of the Mission House, close under the roof, was used for this purpose. There many a hymn of praise ascended — sweet accepted sacrifice — and many an earnest prayer was poured out before God by these young servants of a heavenly Master for those richer baptisms of the Holy Spirit which should fit them for a successful discharge of the arduous duties to which their youthful energies had been consecrated. These were seasons of holy intercourse with God ; times of spiritual re- freshing, to be gratefully remembered under a tropic sun, or in the frozen regions of the north, 230 Romance Without Fiction. and probably not to be forgotten in the annals of eternity. It was a beautiful summer afternoon, the last of the week, and the daily prayer-meeting was going on. Several had already engaged in prayer. All hearts were bowed down before the Lord, for a more than ordinary unction rested upon the youth- ful band that Saturday afternoon as first one and then another and another took the lead in ad- dressing the throne of grace. A loud knock- ing at the door interrupted what was going on. One of the young men stepped to the door and, opening it, received the message that had been brought ; and when the verse then being sung was concluded, announced it to the others : " Messrs. Daniel and Snelgrove are required to go on board immediately, as their vessel, the ' Hebe,' is now getting under way and will at once drop down the river and put to sea." The meeting was bro- ken up, and the two young missionaries, after a lov- ing farewell to their companions, and accompanied by their best wishes and earnest prayers, departed to join the ship which was to be for some weeks their home upon the deep and convey them to the scene of their toil. Little did they, or any of those who were left behind, anticipate the occur- rence that was to consign one of these zealous young servants of the cross to a watery grave. Into no mind did the thought enter that one of them would be taken within the vail even before his eyes should rest upon the foreign coast where he fondly hoped that years of self-denying useful- The Lost Missionary. 231 ness awaited him in the service of that honored Master who, in the morning of life, had called him to enjoy the blessedness of the great salvation, and put it into his heart to devote his life and energies to usefulness in the great mission field. Gayly sped the goodly bark down the Channel with her missionary passengers on board, all sails spread to a favoring breeze. It was hoped, from the favorable commencement of the voyage, that the " Hebe " would have a short and pleasant pas- sage to her destination in the New World. But changes of winds occurred as they ran between the French and English coasts, and a rough sea with head-winds failed not to exact the usual penalty from the inexperienced navigators who had never before known the effect of pitching and tossing up- on the rolling waves. The trouble was, however, of short duration. They speedily rallied from the prostration occasioned by sea-sickness, and were able to gaze with interest upon the towering cliffs and projecting headlands of the land that gave them birth, and which, although they were volunta- rily leaving it, they still loved so well. At length all the difficulties and hinderances of the Channel nav- igation have been encountered and overcome, and fondly they gaze upon the fading outlines of the land. Their hearts are heavy as memories of the past crowd upon the mind ; nor is it a reproach to their manhood that the tear falls as lingering looks continue to be directed toward the now all but invisible spot where they have so recently parted from all they hold dear on earth ! 232 Romance Without Fiction. The rough waters of the British Channel have prepared the young missionaries for the rougher greeting of the Bay of Biscay, whose great rolling billows afford them opportunity of beholding and adoring the majesty and power of the Almighty One, of whom it is declared, "The sea is his, and he made it, and his hands prepared the dry land." Alternate breeze and calm, fair winds and head winds, have helped or impeded their prog- ress, calling into exercise both hope and patience during several weeks. The gambols of the por- poise, the spouting of the monster whale, the changing hues of the dolphin, languishing and dy- ing upon the deck, with the treacherous hook in his jaws, have all served to relieve the monotony of a long passage by sea, and all are fraught with interest to those who have hitherto been strangers to the wonders of the deep. But there have been things of a less pleasant character to diversify the experience of the mis- sionary voyagers. The captain in command of the vessel — a near relative of the owners — is a professor of religion, but not a man of genial temper and suavity of manners. Habitually rough and repulsive in his bearing, it has not served to improve his temper and deportment that he has embraced the sour, narrow creed of the Antinomian. He regards with scorn and disfavor the young men committed for a season to his care who are going to a distant part of the world as the heralds of the Gospel, because theirs is a message which pro- claims universal redemption, and teaches, The Lost Missiofiary. 233 " He hath for all a ransom paid, For all a full atonement made." Forgetting the courtesy due to his missionary guests, he frequently indulges his sour, unamiable disposition by scoffing at truths which they hold most dear and important, and forces them unwill- ingly into controversial discussions they would gladly have avoided. This goes on for several weeks, grievously interfering with the comfort of the young men, and throwing an aspect of gloom over what might otherwise have been a pleasant voyage. Now they approach the banks of Newfoundland, and the weather, which has hitherto been com- paratively calm and pleasant, becomes rough and stormy. Fierce gales succeed the balmy breezes that have wafted them on their course, and the vessel is tossed and tumbled about like a feather on the waves. Day after day the fierce sou'-wester stirs up the depth of ocean, until the vast billows running past remind the beholder of the expres sion they have often met with — " the waves run- ning mountains high." Driven from the cabin to escape the coarse dogmatism of the captain, who persists in forcing upon them discussions with which they have become wearied and disgusted, the younger of the two missionaries, more sensi- tive than his sedate companion, one memorable afternoon betakes himself after dinner to the quar- ter-deck, preferring the loud roaring of the winds and the raging of the sea to angry and intolerant theological disputations, and seeks relief to his 234 Romance Without Fiction. chafed and harassed spirit in carving the words which afterward arrested my attention, " Hebe non bonuin ;" giving expression in this way to the feel- ing of discomfort and displeasure which for the moment oppressed his mind. It is with difficulty he has kept his feet by clinging to the rail, owing to the violent rolling of the ship. When the self- imposed task is completed, returning the knife to his pocket, he gazes moodily for a few moments upon the inscription, and then takes his seat upon the hencoops which line the bulwarks on either side of the quarter-deck, containing ducks and poultry, etc., destined to minister to the comfort of the passengers. Wave after wave rolls on, now bearing the ship high upon their crest, and again almost burying her out of sight as she sinks into the trough of the angry sea. For a few moments the young missionary sits gazing upon the wide waste of rushing waters, and listening to the roar of the gale as it howls through the rigging above his head, himself the only occu- pant of the quarter-deck except the mate in charge of the vessel and the man at the wheel. Perceiv- ing the near approach of a wave of stupendous magnitude that is rushing toward the ship, he rises hastily from his seat to go below, and makes a dash at the companion stair-head, hoping to gain footing and shelter there before the threatening billows should break against the vessel. But just as he rises the vessel takes a violent lurch, sinking into the deep trough of the sea until her bulwarks almost touch the water. She rests for a moment The Lost Missionary. 235 on her beam ends, her deck being almost perpen- dicular with the raging tide. Pitched violently forward by the sudden motion of the ship, he misses his aim, shoots past the companion place, and in a moment plunges head foremost into the raging element. " Man overboard !" is the appalling cry that rings through the ship, and all hands immediately rush on deck. Hencoops are cut loose, and with the chairs scattered about are thrown overboard for the drowning man to grasp should he rise to the surface, and all on board rush aft to afford all the help that may be in their power. But no help is of any avail. No boat could live two minutes in those troubled waters. If the lost one ever came to the surface of that troubled rag- ing sea no human eye caught a glimpse of him. Only his hat can be seen floating near the spot where he has been engulfed. He has passed away far beyond mortal ken, and in the full vigor of young and lusty life has sunk into an ocean grave. He has left his companion to go alone to that which had been marked out as the scene of their united toil, and a large circle of loving friends to mourn over the unexpected intelligence of the loss they have sustained in his early re- moval to the land of the blessed. Dark and in- scrutable are the ways of God. We cannot now understand why the Great and Holy One should thus snatch away the young missionary to his rest before he could enter upon his work. But he doeth all things wisely and well. By and by we 236 Romance Without Fiction. shall see clearly, as we cannot see now, that this painful dispensation of Providence that deprived the Church of a valuable missionary agent, and sent sorrow and anguish to many hearts, was ruled by unerring wisdom and infinite love. " God moves in a mysterious way, His wonders to perform ; He plants his footsteps in the sea, And rides upon the storm." Yellow-Fever Victims. 237 XII. Yellow-Fever Victims. They who die in Christ are blest; Ours be, then, no thought of grieving I Sweetly with their God they rest. All their toils and troubles leaving. 80 be ours the faith that saveth, Hope that every trial braveth, Love that to the end endureth. And, through Christ, the crown eecureth ! Bishop DoAmj. FTER a voyage of more than sixty days from the Thames, the good ship " Atlan- tic " reaches her destination, bearing three young men, and the wife of one of them, to the scene of their allotted toil in the slave-land of Jamaica. Having dropped her anchor for a few hours during the night at Port Royal, she has taken ad- vantage of the land-breeze to make her way through the narrow, circuitous channel to Kings- ton, and while the morning is yet young, takes up the berth assigned to her by the imperative official styled the harbor-master. A shore boat shortly receives the passengers, with the few articles of baggage they are able to take on shore with them, and in a few moments they find themselves on the wharf. How new and strange is the scene ! They are surrounded by piles of lumber, with 238 Romance Without Fiction. numerous hogsheads of sugar and puncheons of rum, that half-naked negro slaves are rolling to- ward a ship lying close to the wharf. The crew are busily occupied in hoisting them on board to the tune of some favorite nautical melody, which serves to animate and lighten their toil. Thread- ing their way with care over small pools of mo- lasses that have drained from the sugar casks, they soon emerge into a narrow street, where a decent-looking colored woman, hearing their in- quiries for the Methodist mission house, and justly concluding from their appearance that it is a band of new missionaries who have arrived, steps for- ward, and with respectful courtesy and smiling face, volunteers her services to conduct them to the place they wish to find. The streets are heavy with sand, and the full tide of tropical heat pours down upon them as they slowly follow their guide, who has pressed two or three of her sable acquaintances into the service, making them take charge of the packages which the voyagers have brought ashore with them. In a quarter of an hour they find them- selves in a fine square of considerable extent. On the eastern side a large house, with green ja- lousies stretching across the entire front, is pointed out to them as the chapel. The woman turns round as she directs their attention to it, and exhibiting in her pleasure a set of glittering ivory teeth, informs them, " Me member of the Society, too, massa. Me hope minister and missis hab one pleasant voyage. Me glad for Yellow-Fever Victims. 239 true to see minister come for teach we de way to hebben." Ascending some steps through a broad gate- way, they pass between two wide staircases, which they are informed lead up into the chapel, and enter the mission house on the ground floor. They are warmly greeted by the occupants of the dwelling, even before they can present the letters of which they are the bearers from the connec- tional authorities under whose auspices they have left their homes to enter upon a field of useful- ness in a far distant foreign land. Very speedily a multitude of visitors are flocking around to wel- come them, for the news has rapidly spread far and wide in the city that some new missionaries have arrived from England. Many a warm shake of the hand and many a tear-bedewed cheek beai witness to the heartfelt joy with which their pres- ence is hailed. It is with very strange and min- gled emotions that the young missionaries and the fair youthful companion of their voyage regard the dusky faces which, full of animation, and radiant with pleasure, surround them on every side. These visitors are the free people, who thus hasten on wings of love to welcome the mission- aries among them, their time being at their own disposal. By and by one and another, with timid, faltering steps, present themselves at the door to look in upon " the new ministers and the lady." These they learn are children of bondage, slaves belonging to families in the city, who, sent upon some errand, have ventured to step a little out of 240 Romance Without Fiction. the way "just to look at massa minister." Some of them have to bear no small amount of ill usage at the hands of unfeeling owners, who seek to cure their love of prayer, and drive religion out of them, by the free use of the "cat." The new comers are not long in learning that it is no easy service to which they are devoted, and that they have come to a land where bigotry and persecution are rampant. The several attempts which have been made by the Legislature of the colony to hinder, by statute, the benevolent efforts of missionaries to enlighten and elevate the down- trodden children of Africa by the benign influences of the Gospel, have been baffled by a timely appeal to the justice and tolerant feelings of the sovereign* But the municipal authorities of the city, whose charter exempts them from the immediate control of the crown, and gives them power to make or- dinances for the government of the city, have been stirred up to abuse that power for evil purposes. A city ordinance now exists that prevents any re- ligious service being held in the city before sunrise or after sunset under heavy penalties. This intol- erant law has the designed effect of almost entirely cutting off the slaves in the city from the oppor- tunity of worship or instruction. Spies are ever on the watch to observe and bring to the notice of the authorities any infringement of this oppressive enactment. No disposition is cherished by the missionaries to oppose the authority so wantonly exercised, however they may groan under the oppression to Yellow-Fever Victims. 241 which they and their people are subjected, and they submit, commending their cause to God, and hoping for better days. The arrival of the new missionaries is hailed by hundreds with satisfac- tion and joy, heightened by the discovery that both the lady and her husband have excellent voices, well trained in the sweet melodies of those glorious Wesley hymns, whose lofty, glowing strains have cheered and animated thousands in the sor- rows of life and the vale of death, and helped to plume the wings of many a departing spirit in its last triumphant flight to the paradise of God. The little mission party assembled in the after- noon in the ordinary sitting-room, have sung to- gether many a familiar tune, to which the new harmonious voices lent an additional charm ; and many a new strain, adapted to bring forth with greater sweetness and power the true poetry of those beautiful hymns, has helped to beguile the hours and produce forgetfulness of all earthly sor- row and care. As the thrilling melody ascends — " To patient faith the prize is sure ; And all that to the end endure The cross, shall wear the crown " — the enjoyment of the party is rudely disturbed by the abrupt entrance of several officials of the law, including one of the city magistrates, who, directing their attention to the fact that a few minutes have passed beyond the hour when the law allows a religious service to be held, proceed 242 Romance Without Fiction. at once to take Messrs. G. and K., the resident missionaries, into custody, for the purpose of con- ducting them to a place of confinement. It is in vain that they and others of the party point out that they were not holding any religious service within the meaning of the law, but merely amus- ing themselves, as a social party, in singing a few hymns. The astute official, in common with his sapient magisterial brethren, can discern no dif- ference. " Singing hymns is preaching " in their estimation, and " praying is also preaching ; " and, despite all remonstrance, the two missionaries are taken away, to find such rest as they may in the dark, comfortless dungeon dignified with the name of the " City Cage." On the following day the younger of the two is set at liberty by the magis- trates, while the elder, as the master of the house where the crime had been committed, is held guilty of holding a religious service after the hours prescribed by the law, and is sentenced to a month's confinement in the common jail, his wife permitted, as an act of grace, to share the imprisonment of her husband. The next day is the Sabbath, when Mr. F., one of the newly-arrived missionaries, the married man of the party, opens his commission in the new scene of his labors, another of the party occupying the pulpit in the afternoon. But the joy of all is damped by thoughts of the faithful pastor who is spending the sacred hours of the Sabbath within the walls of a prison, and many prayers, " uttered and unexpressed," go up to heaven on behalf of Yellow-Fever Victims. 243 the iiuffering servant of the Lord and his faithful spouse, who has voluntarily immured herself in a gloomy cell that she may share and lighten her husband's privations. Far deeper grief would set- tle upon that congregation of earnest worshipers could they foresee the heavier calamity that is im- pending over them ; and that, before another Sab- bath shall summon them again to the sanctuary of Jehovah, one of those voices to which they have listened with rapt attention, proclaiming with soul- stirring eloquence the sublime truths of the Gos- pel, will be hushed in the silence of the grave. None dream of the sorrow so close at hand. Into no mind does the thought enter that the sweet, thrilling strains of the youthful pair, which could charm the persecuted ministers of the cross into forgetfulness of persecutors and persecuting laws, will, in a few brief hours only, be heard mingling with the songs of angels and the choir above. Yet so it is to be. Loving and kind is the wisdom of God that hides the future from our vision, and saves us from the untold anguish that would accrue to multitudes from knowing the things which are to come. The Sabbath passes, a day of hallowed delights in the service of the sanctuary ; a day which, be- cause of the associations linked therewith, is to have a pre-eminent and permanent place in the memories of not . a few. It is the day after the Sabbath, and the third day after the arrival of the missionary party, when the young wife complains of feeling more than she has done before the re- 16 244 Romance Without Fiction. laxing influence of the tropical climate. A severe frontal headache, and pains in the back and limbs, soon begin to indicate to those who are experi- enced in tropical diseases incident to the climate that it is the insidious approach of the fever, so fatal within and near the tropics, that has to be resisted. When this truth is apprehended prompt medical treatment is resorted to, and skillful nurses with loving hearts and willing hands are present to minister with the tenderest care to all the wants of the patient, and do every thing that human power can accomplish to alleviate pain, and arrest the formidable malady. The few hours that have elapsed have made it manifest beyond all doubt that it is the worst type of the country fever — the vomito prieto, or yellow fever — that is seizing in its deadly grasp all the powers, and assailing the life of the young and lovely wife. Deep anguish lays hold on the spirit of the anxious husband as the conviction is realized that the loved one, who has so recently linked her destiny with his own, and given up home and friends and many a comfort and enjoyment to share his arduous toil in the mission field — the wife of whose lovable qualities and blooming loveliness he has been so proud — is actually under the power of that deadly fever of whose terrible ravages he has heard and read so much. He en- deavors to bear up with manly fortitude under the trying visitation, and calls upon the Giver of all grace to aid him. But his heart sinks as he The Midshipmen^ s Frolic. 257 ing brief intervals which he chose to spend at home, he indulged in the same riotous orgies that usually marked his periodical visits to the estates of his employers. It was during the Christmas holidays of 1828 that he detected one of his female slaves — a fair col- ored girl named Damsel — helping herself to a glass of rum from a decanter on his well-replenished side- board.- As he was a man of fierce and vindictive passions, ripened to fearful maturity by the corrupt- ing and brutalizing influences to which he had been exposed while passing through the various grades of slave-driving life, the girl trembled when she be- held her master's eye resting upon her. Though claiming the rank and character of a gentleman, he could be guilty of revolting cruelty toward the unfortunates bearing the form and possessing the noble attributes of humanity, yet systematically plundered of all human rights, because it was their misfortune to inherit from their Creator a darker complexion than their neighbors. Excited by drink beyond all self-control, this white gentleman, who would show such complai- sance and politeness to the gentle sex of* his own color, whenever he was thrown into their society, as to render it difficult to believe that he could ever, under any circumstances, be guilty of cowardly violence to a woman, laid brutal hands upon the offending Damsel. Having with heavy fist in- flicted severe punishment upon her head and face, he rent off, with the fury of a madman, every fragment of clothing that covered the person of 258 Romance Without Fiction. the unfortunate girl, who was of an age to feel this outrage upon her modesty even more than she felt the painful bruises his cowardly hands had in- flicted upon her person. Not satisfied with this, the drunken tyrant had her taken, just as she was, into the yard, and summoning the driver to his aid he caused her to be laid flat upon her face, and stood by while that terrible functionary stripped skin and flesh from the shoulders down- ward by a flogging such as only the muscular, well-practiced arm of a brawny slave-driver was capable of inflicting. He then ordered that she should be taken, faint and bleeding, and perfectly naked as she was, to the guard-house. And thither she was speedily conveyed more dead than alive. In those times it was the custom to " keep guard " at Christmas. Three days were by law then given to the slaves as holidays. By slaves under the influences of the religion taught by the mis- sionaries, these three holidays were spent in re- ligious exercises and interchange of friendly visits. By the rest of the slaves they were devoted to revelry ajjd John-Canoe processions, and music, and dancing, and feasting. Some of the white people occasionally lavished considerable sums upon the sets of " Blues " and " Reds," who strove to outvie each other in the gayety and splendor of their adornings. During these Christmas revels the several regiments of militia, all over the island, were wholly or partially embodied and armed, for the purpose of " keeping guard " and suppressing The Midshipmen'' s Frolie. 259 any outbreak among the slave population. The whites lived in a state of chronic alarm. Not far distant from the residence of Mr. D. was the guard-house, and a party of the St. Eliza- beth militia were assembled there on duty. Thither Damsel was conveyed with her bleeding wounds thick upon her, but without a particle of clothing, and thrust into a cell. Had he not been infuriated and blinded by drink, and altogether incapable of serious reflection, Mr. D. would no doubt have hesitated about sending the sufferer to the guard-house, and thus exposing the cruelty with which he treated his unfortunate slave to the officers and men assembled there from many of the plantations around. But it had become well known that he was accustomed to behave like a madman in those fits of intemperance in which he very frequently indulged. Among the officers on duty there happened to be some members of the most respectable Creole families residing in that part of the country ; men who, while they treated their own slaves with hu- manity, and some even with tenderness, regarded with abhorrence the atrocities too often practiced by the hireling upstarts who succeeded in obtaining authority over the suffering children of Africa held in bondage on the estates. Several of these gen- tlemen were shocked by the outrage upon the poor girl, whom they saw brought among them without a rag of clothing upon her, and her person cruelly lacerated and bleeding, and they united to afford protection and redress to the injured one. 17 26o Romance Without Fiction. Among those ameliorations of slavery in the colonies that British philanthropy had wrung from the reluctant, powerful West India interest, was a provision for the appointment of a council of pro- tection, to investigate cases of alleged maltreatment of slaves and afford redress to the injured. This " council of protection," so called, was invested with power to direct the prosecution of offenders, and to compensate cruelly treated slaves by giv- ing them their freedom. Through the interposi- tion of the above mentioned gentlemen, who rep- resented this instance of cruel oppression to the proper authorities, a council of protection was or- dered to investigate the case of Damsel. Unhappily, as was almost always the case with these tribunals, it was composed entirely of men whose sympathies strongly favored the oppressor, and whose interests were bound up in slavery, and in maintaining the right which slaveholders and planters claimed of doing whatever they thought proper to maintain their authority over their slaves. The result was that councils of protection, in almost every instance in which they were held, amounted only to a farce and a mockery, and presented a very feeble check indeed to those cruelties in which many overseers and owners of slaves were prone to indulge. The most revolting acts of oppression were uniformly declared by these tribunals, in the face of the clearest evidence to the contrary, to be too trifling to require the adoption of any proceedings to punish the offender, The chief purpose they served, and which they The MidsJiipmen 's Frolic. 26 1 t\^ere intended by the colonial lawmakers to pro- mote, was to cast dust in the eyes of the British public by a deceitful show of legal protection to the slaves, while securing immunity to evil doers. This was the issue in the case of the girl Damsel. A council of protection was called to investigate the complaint of cruel treatment which, under the advice and by the help of the gentlemen who had taken the matter in hand, she made against her owner, Mr. D. Notwithstanding the girl's state- ment of the brutal treatment she had experienced at the hands of her master, and the evidence of the officers and men, who had seen her brought naked, and covered with wounds and blood, to the guard-house, the complaint was dismissed by the planters composing the court of protection, and Mr. D. was declared to have done nothing more than he had a legal right to do with his slaves. Poor Damsel was handed over to the tender mercies of her owner, who, though not habitually cruel to his slaves when he was sober, was capable, in his cups, of almost any atrocity. This decision did not, however, satisfy those who had constituted themselves the protectors of the injured girl. They forwarded the particulars of the case to the governor ; and, as he happened to be one so much under planter influence, and possessing so little strength of character, that nothing satisfactory could be looked for from him, they also reported the whole matter to the Colonial Office in Lon- don. The partiality and injustice of the council of protection were so palpable from the evidence 262 Romance Without Fiction. that had been taken, that immediate instructions were given by the secretary for the colonies for the attorney-general of Jamaica to initiate a pros- ecution of the offender. This was done. The attorney-general did not happen to be a personal friend of the criminal, and was, moreover, an honest man. He performed the duty laid upon him with sincerity and zeal. An upright Christian judge — Sir William Scarlett — was on the bench, who was alive to the responsibility of his position. A jury was found to give a right and conscientious verdict — a very uncommon thing in Jamaica in those days — and Mr. D. stood convicted as a vio- lator of the law in the inhuman treatment to which he had subjected his helpless slave. Severely rep- robating his conduct as unmanly and brutal, and disgraceful to himself and to the country, the court sentenced him to pay a fine of fifty pounds, and also to lose his property in the bones and sinews of poor Damsel, who obtained her freedom as a compensation for the wrongs and cruelties she had suffered at the hands of her owner. At the end of 1831 there broke out the formi- dable insurrection among the slaves in the north- western parishes of the island that gave the death- blow to British colonial slavery, and led immedi- ately to its abolition. All the available military force of the island was called out to quell the insurgents, and while the troops were thus occupied on the land, at all the principal ports round the west end of the island there were stationed ships of war, whose crews The Midshipmen's Frolic. 263 were employed wherever their services could be made available to support the movements of the soldiers. The ofificers of these ships were often entertained and feted by the wealthy merchants in the towns, or by the planters whose dwellings lay contiguous to the several ports. After the insurrection had been subdued these ships of war remained for some months at their respective sta- tions until perfect tranquillity was restored, to guard against any further insurrectionary move- ments on the part of the negroes. During this time the ofificers made acquaintance with the fam- ilies living within a circuit of some miles, spending their time very pleasantly, and enjoying the un- bounded hospitality for which Jamaica had long been famous. Among those who courted the society of the blue-jacket ofificers was Mr. D., the gentleman already spoken of. He frequently invited parties of them from the ship lying at Black River, as they were able to leave the vessel, to visit him at his stately and well-furnished mansion, situated a few miles inland, where they were sumptuously entertained, and where they found much amuse- ment, varied occasionally with a little annoyance in the strange vagaries of their host when he be- came too drunk to distinguish between his guests and his slaves. On these occasions he would do many absurd things that suggested themselves to his muddled brain, and fall into many laughable mistakes, ordering both guests and slaves about with admirable impartiality. Occasionally he 264 Romance Without Fiction, would send the officers back to their ship in a condition, with regard to sobriety, not very much better than his own. Parties of midshipmen were allowed occasion- ally to enjoy Mr. D.'s hospitality, but under posi- tive restrictions, on the part of the captain, as to the quantity of wine they were to indulge in, any violation of which they well knew would put an end to their pleasant visits and excursions ashore. These mischief-loving youths, never loath to par- take of the luxuries of the wealthy planter's table, greatly enjoyed the fun which the drunken freaks of their host afforded them. While they were careful to keep themselves within the prescribed limits, they encouraged him to drink, helping him, after their own wild fashion, with mixed potions, and substituting gin or whisky for water until he became helpless in their hands, and would indulge in brutal or lordly pranks as the humor of the mo- ment predominated. On one of these occasions four or five fun-lov- ing middies formed the party which the planter major-general carried off with him in his carriage from " the Bay " to dine at his house, and return on board in the evening. As the ship was soon to leave the station, they resolved to make the most of the day in frolic and mischief. Arrived at their destination, some seven or eight miles inland, they gave themselves up to amusement in all sorts of wild escapades, to the great delight of their host, who entered into the fun as heartily as themselves. At length the well-furnished dinner table invited T]ie Midshipine7i' s Frolic. 265 their attention, and they did such justice to the luxurious viands spread before them as hungry denizens of the cock-pit know well how to do. Having satisfied the demands of appetite, the youngsters gave themselves up to the task of helping their willing entertainer into a state of complete intoxication, and extracting from him all the fun which experience had taught them he was in that condition likely to afford. It happened on this occasion that he was dis- posed to be very lordly in his drunkenness, and to forget all distinction between the frolicsome middies and the half-naked young negroes that waited about the house and stables to serve the pleasure of the great man. Having drunk himself into a state of utter helplessness and partial blind- ness, he fancied himself in his bedroom, and with not a few oaths and curses, addressed to his youth- ful guests, whom he confounded with his negro- boy attendants, called upon them to render their services to help him in preparing for bed. " Here, you imp," he says to one of them, "come and take off this boot." " Yes, sir," was the ready reply, and entering fully into the fun of the thing, the youngster addressed himself to the task assigned to him. But he found it to be, either from want of tact or strength, a somewhat difficult undertak- ing. The boot wouldn't come off. Irritated by the failure of the attempt, the drunken man snatched a glass from the table and hurled it at the head of his assistant, who cleverly avoided the missile by dodging, and then, with a volley of 266 Romance Without Fiction. fierce oaths, he summoned him to a renewal of the task. " Yes, sir, certainly," responded the grin- ning middy, and, taking a knife from his pocket, he dexterously slit up the leg of the boot and cast it off. Lifting the other foot, the lordly drunkard, with a curse, commanded the youth, " Take that off too." The boot was readily set free in the same way as its fellow had been. "You, sir," ad- dressing another of the young officers, and letting fly another curse, " come here and help me off with this coat." "Yes, sir, certainly," he replies, and, borrowing the penknife from his companion, he speedily disencumbers the drunken man of his coat, slitting it up as the other youngster had done with the boots. Obeying the imperative mandates of the host, the uproarious youngsters shortly di- vest him, with the help of the knife, of all his gar- ments excepting his shirt. By this time the evening is far spent, and the carriage, which has been previously ordered to take the guests back to the Bay, is brought to the door, and the youth who is to be the coachman appears in the room to let them know that all is ready for their return. The inebriate, who sits grinning in his easy-chair in a state of maudlin helplessness, has just sense enough left to com- prehend the import of this announcement. He has forgotten all about going to bed, concerning which he was so much in earnest a short while ago, and he takes it into his muddled head that he will go with them in the carriage. It is in vain that the middies and the domestics endeavor to The Midshipmen's Frolic. 267 reason with him, and prevail upon him to remain at home and go to bed. Rendered furious by any thing like resistance to his imperious will, he storms and curses all about him, and bearing down all opposition, insists upon getting into the carriage just as he is, throwing away every article that is handed to him for covering except his military cocked hat, for which, as the mark that distinguishes his high military rank, he seems to cherish a fond affection. As time is pressing, and they must be on board at the appointed hour, which is now not far off, the middies cease from the vain effort to turn their host from his purpose, and scramble into the carriage; secretly delighted, no doubt, that the drunken obstinacy of the man has given such an unexpected turn to their frolic. They have not failed to light their cigars before taking their de- parture, and as they drive along, the helpless im- becile, rolling first to one side, then to the other, swings himself in contact with the lighted cigars, which sets him off in a fresh volley of oaths and imprecations upon " the mosquitoes, whose stings are so sharp." Capital fun this for the thought- less middies, who enjoy it exceedingly. All the way they go they amuse themselves by making a gentle application of the burning end of the cigar to the naked legs of the poor, helpless, tormented victim, who, supposing it to be the mosquitoes, pours forth fresh torrents of invective against them at every touch, while the true authors of the pain are convulsed with laughter. 268 Romance Without Fiction, As they draw near the end of the journey they have to cross the bridge that affords access to the town in that direction. By some dextrous move- ment the cherished cocked hat gets jerked into the river, to the great dismay of the negro driver and the indignation of his master, who curses the poor slave lad in his drunken blindness as the cause of the disaster, while it is in truth a freak of the frolicksome middies. By the time they arrive where the boat awaits them the drunken man has sunk into a heavy sleep. They are sufficiently considerate to borrow a blanket from a neighbor- ing house to cover and screen him from the cold land-breeze he will meet on his journey home ; and they then commit him to the care of Peter, the driver, who has silently enjoyed the frolic quite as much as themselves. Peter grins almost from ear to ear over the silver coins with which the laughing middies have liberally rewarded his serv- ices. They jump into the boat, and in a few moments report themselves on board their ship. The great man was full of indignation when, on the following morning, he became aware of what had befallen him through his ungrateful guests. For some time he was bent on seeking redress and having the youngsters punished. He was, how- ever, made to see that it would be wise to hush up the matter, as exposure would be sure to bring upon him a flood of ridicule, and make him the laughing-stock of the country. Besides, the mid- dies had only obeyed his own imperative com- mands. The midshipmen's frolic, however, came The Midshipmen's Frolic. 269 to be widely known and talked about. Some spoke of " poetic justice " when they remembered the case of Damsel, that was so prominent a few months before ; and others regarded it as a " right- eous retribution," when they heard how the mid- dies, in their thoughtless mischief, had treated the drunken slaveholder in a way so much resembling, in some respects, his own cruel treatment of his unfortunate slave. 270 Romance Without Fiction. XIV. Benjie and Juno. Get up, yon mulo, let's be goln', Let's be scratcMn' ob de grabble ; De postman's horn he long done blowin', And we'se a good long way to trabble. — ^Negko Sons. <2ii. "T was several years before the evils of British jjf colonial slavery were done away, that a travel- er on horseback was leisurely pursuing his way along the main road toward one of the seaport towns on the north side of Jamaica. It was dur- ing the forenoon, when the cool, refreshing sea- breeze had come down, modifying the fierce heat of a tropical sun, and dissipating the languor caused by the overpowering sultriness that had prevailed two or three hours before. A few miles back on the road he had traversed, a negro, mounted on a mule, and leading another of those animals laden with packages carefully covered up with tarpaulins, had passed him, traveling at the rate of some five or six miles an hour. At very short intervals, as he urged his mules onward with whip and spur, the negro rider blew out loud notes from the cow's horn swinging round his neck. Thus he announced the arrival of the express post, and conveyed to the planters on the estates, and the residents of the villages near which he passed, the gratifying intelligence that Benjie and Juno. 271 the monthly mail packet from England had arrived at Port Royal, and their letters and newspapers from HOME were now traveling to the usual post town, whither they might send and obtain them. Several negro boys mounted on mules, with leather bags strapped across their shoulders, had also ridden past him, hastening to the post-office, and riding, as negro boys love to ride, with head- long speed. At a turn of the road, as he ambled slowly on his way, the traveler came up with one of these sable equestrians, engaged in active strife with the animal he bestrode. Mulo had all at once, after bringing her rider on swiftly and pleas- antly for several miles, suddenly lapsed into one of those sullen, obstinate moods in which that de- scription of animals — at least in the West Indies — is very prone to indulge, and in the most express- ive manner of which she was capable entered a caveat against the further prosecution of the jour- ney. She cared nothing whether the master on whose service she had been dispatched obtained his packet letters in due time or not. Not so with her rider, a sharp-looking lad, with face as black as coal, and teeth outrivaling ivory in their brill- iant whiteness, and who appeared to be not more than nine or ten years of age at most. He knew very well that to return without busha's (over- seer's) letters would bring upon him the fierce wrath of that formidable and important function- ary, and entail upon him a severe castigation. He was therefore by no means disposed to give in to the mulishness of Miss Juno. 2/2 Romance Without Fiction. When the traveler came up the contest was at its height, and he waited to see the issue. The lad was making good use of the single spur that adorned one of his naked heels, and vigorously applying the tamarind switch, which was made to do duty for a riding whip, to the sides and neck of his steed, grinning all the time with perfect good humor, as if he enjoyed the sport, and carrying on an animated conversation with the animal, as if she understood every word that he addressed to her. But the more he flogged and spurred and chattered, the more energetically did mulo protest against proceeding in the required direction. Taking the bit between her teeth, she ran to the right hand, rubbing her rider's foot against the wall. Then she sidled to the left, tearing the lad's clothes and scratching his flesh in the log- wood fence that bounded the road on that side. She ran backward, she whirled herself round and round in numerous circles, like a teetotum, and, in reply to the applications of whip and spur, threw her heels into the air, as if bent on pitching her rider forward out of the saddle. She would do any thing but go forward. She would go in any direction but the right one. The lad kept his seat and his temper admirably throughout the length- ened contest, while the traveler looked on and greatly enjoyed the scene, both mule and rider being too much occupied to take any notice of him. At length a truce was called. The negro dis- continued the use of the switch, and the mule Bcnjic and yuno. 273 ceased her gyrations, but with her fore feet firmly- planted upon the earth in such a manner as seemed to say, " I am determined not to go on." Placing his switch under his arm, the boy, still occupying the saddle, proceeded to hold a colloquy with the rebellious animal. " So, Miss Juno, you no want to carry me to de Bay to fetch busha's letters from de post-office .'' " The mule gave a snort, as if to say, " That is assuredly my unalterable determina- tion." "Berry well. Miss Juno, den we mus' see." After a moment's hesitation, during which he was apparently thinking over the best means of escaping from the awkward dilemma in which Juno had placed him by her obstinacy, address- ing himself to the mule, he said, " You no go, eh } Now, Miss Juno, me bet you one fippenny me make you go ! " The mule gave a snort, probably of defiance, but which the boy chose to interpret as the signal of acquiescence. " Berry well, you say done. Me see now wedder me no make you go, and carry me to de Bay. You 'top here one little piece." He then threw himself from the saddle, and pulling the rein over the animal's head, proceeded to make it fast to one of the logwood bushes close at hand. This done, he went to a narrow stream of water that ran across the road at a little dis- tance. There he filled his pocket with a number of clean pebbles from the bed of the stream, and then he went to a neighboring clump of bushes, from which he pulled out several strong green withs, and returned to the mule, who received 274 Romance Without Fiction. him with a defiant snort. " Now, Miss Juno," he said, showing his glittering teeth, " me see who sail win de bet." He then filled up both ears of the mule with the pebbles he had brought from the brook, and tied them close with the withs he had procured for the purpose. " Now, Juno," he triumphantly exclaimed as he gathered up the reins and vaulted nimbly into the saddle, " we see who is de massa, Juno or Benjie." Giving her two or three touches with the spur, Juno began sidling in the wrong direction, evidently as much determined as ever to be fractious, and to go any way but the right one. But astonished at the strange thundering noise in her ears caused by the grating and rattling of the pebbles, and not knowing at all what to make of it, she threw her heels high in the air two or three times and fairly gave up the contest, starting off at full gallop, with little Benjie grinning from ear to ear, and almost frantic with delight that he had conquered the obstinacy of Juno and gained his bet. The traveler slowly continued his journey in the same direction, laughing heartily at this queer scene between Benjie and Juno, and greatly amused with the clever expedient of the negro lad to subdue the stubbornness of Mulo. After a short ride he arrived at the little town, where, after stabling his horse, he recognized little Ben- jie, occupied with other lads who had come on a similar errand in a game of marbles, caring very little about the anxiety of their respective masters to get their packet letters. Bcnjie and Juno. 275 Curious to know the result of the little inter- lude he had Avitnessed, he beckoned Benjie, as soon as he could arrest his attention, to come to him. But Benjie, too much occupied with the business in hand during his contest with Juno to attend to any thing else, had scarcely noticed the rider, who was all the time looking on. Not rec- ognizing the stranger, he shrank from his approach, as if somewhat dubious concerning the traveler's intentions. Instead of coming forward when he beckoned to him, Benjie sidled off, and seemed very much disposed to take to his heels. " I have no wish to harm you, my boy," said the traveler ; " I only wish to ask you a question about Juno, and give you a fippenny, it may be, if you give me a proper answer." The prospect of a donation banished the boy's fears, and he came forward as requested. " I want to ask you whether Juno gave you any more trouble after you put the pebbles in her ears } " " How uiassa know 'bout Juno and de pebbles ? " "inquired the boy, with a blank expression of coun- tenance. "01 was close by, and saw and heard all while you were contending with the mule." " But massa no tell busha 'bout de stones me put in him ear ? " " No, I wont say any thing at all to busha. But I want to know about the bet." The little fellow's face resumed all the brightness which a momentary apprehension had banished as a vision of the angry overseer had flitted before his mind, and again showing his white teeth, he replied, " Me win de bet fair, massa." " Well, but 18 2/6 Romance Without Fiction. now you have won it, how can Juno pay you the fippenny ? That is what I want you to tell me." *' Me make him pay bery well, massa." "But how } that is what I am curious to understand." " Massa no tell busha if me tell massa } " " No, busha will never know any thing about it from me." "Well, den, you see, massa," his bright black eye twinkling with an expression of roguish cunning, " busha gib' me one tenpenny (sixpence) to buy grass for Juno ; me buy one fippenny grass for Juno, and toder fippenny buy bread for Benjie. Dat way Juno pay him bet." The traveler handed to him the coin by which he had lured him into the conversation, and little Benjie hastened to rejoin his companions, triumph- antly exhibiting his gains, and boisterously jubi- lant over the stranger's liberality. Driving Away the Rooks. 277 "f XV. Driving Away the Rooks. The sun of justice may withdraw his beams Awhile from earthly ken, and sit concealed In dark recess, pavilioned round with clouds; Yet let not guilt presumptuous rear her crest, Nor virtue droop despondent ; soon these clouds Seeming to eclipse, will brighten into day, And in majestic splendor he will rise With healing and with terror on his wings. — Bally. ^F you would get rid of the rooks you must destroy their nests." Such is the text and conclusion of a violent and inflammatory address, delivered to a large assembly of planters and slaveholders in the court-house of the parish of St. Ann, on the north side of Jamaica. They are met together to uphold the tottering system of slavery, and to consult on the best means of get- ting rid of missionary laborers from the colony. Under the restraints imposed upon them by the instructions they have received from the mission- ary authorities at home, these servants of Christ take no part in the discussions on the slavery question, which are now so actively carried on both in England and the colonies ; yet the influ- ence they exert in preaching the Word of Life, and giving instruction to the slaves, is rapidly under- mining the system that makes man the property of 278 Romance Without Fiction. his fellow-man, and degrades him to the condition of a chattel. There has been a wide-spread insurrection among the slaves in a neighboring district of the island. The favorite slave of a respectable family conceived the idea of effecting the liberation of the three hundred and fifty thousand of his race held in bondage within those shores. He had himself never felt the extreme bitterness of the condition of a slave, for he had never been sub ject to the harassing, wasting toil of the cane field, or the brutal, sanguinary cruelty which fell to the lot of many around him. He was born to an inheritance of slavery, because he was guilty of the crime of having a slave mother. She was, however, a favorite domestic in her master's household, and her lively boy, black as polished jet, became the pet and plaything of the family, bearing his owner's name, and treated with as much indulgence as any of the troop of blooming white girls whose sports he shared on almost equal terms. As he grew up to manhood the same kindly treatment was continued to him, and his master had him taught a trade, by which he might earn^ without drudgery, the means of living and of com- fort, for he was one of the few slave-owners pos- sessing courage to disregard the selfish policy of the slaveholding class, which forbade, in all its degrees, the culture of a slave mind. Samuel Sharpe had been taught to read, and he not only possessed a form which might have served a sculptor as a model of manly grace and beauty, Driving Away the Rooks. 279 but he exhibited mental powers of no common order, and, as a member of the Baptist communion, had obtained a considerable knowledge of holy Scripture. Though experiencing none of the cru- elty so often practiced upon those in bondage, he felt the degradation and wrong of being a slave, held as the property of another man, and liable, like a horse, to be sold and bought. He read the newspapers, and became acquainted with the dis- cussions going on in the mother country regarding the abolition of slavery, and the efforts put forth by the Churches of Britain to rid the nation of the guilt and shame of upholding such a system. He heard at his master's table, as well as at numerous public meetings which were held all over the isl- and, the fierce denunciations of the slaveholding fraternity against those who were making vigorous efforts to deprive them of their property in the bodies and souls of their fellow-creatures ; and he listened with swelling heart to the avowal of their determination to resist the parent Govern- ment in this matter, and to transfer the island to the American States, in order to secure the per- petuation of the slave system. He therefore re- solved to strike a blow for the freedom of his race. With consummate skill and secrecy Sharpe laid his plans and chose his companions in the under- taking, and at Christmas, 1831, the whole of the western part of the island was panic-stricken by a wide-spread insurrection among the slaves. Sharpe's plan was simply passive resistance, with- 28o Romance Without Fiction. out injury to life or property. " Bucra (the negro designation for a white man) " may kill some of us," he said, addressing a meeting of the slaves held in secret, " and I for one am willing to die for freedom ; but dey cannot kill us all, and slav- ery will be done away." The insurrection was suppressed with all the hor- rible atrocities which distinguish the saturnalia of martial law. Sharpe, with many hundreds besides, perished on the gallows ; the land was drenched with blood, and order was at length restored. But the blow for freedom had been struck. The plan laid down by Sharpe was not carried out, but the result he aimed at was achieved. That insur- rection and the events that followed gave the death-blow to the system, for it demonstrated that it could not be sustained except at the cost of much blood. Before two years had passed away the decree of the imperial Government had gone forth that British colonial slavery should cease to exist, and this, the dark stain on the na- tional escutcheon, be wiped out forever. Hundreds upon hundreds of slaughtered negroes slumber in their bloody graves; and the bones of many others, left unburied and cleaned by the rapacity of the John-Crow vulture, are bleaching under the fierce rays of a tropical sun, when the meeting takes place to which reference has been, made. With few exceptions those who compose it are fresh and red-handed from the scene of slaughter. In this part of the colony planters and slaveholders have, for several years, distin- Drivhig Away the Rooks. 281 guished themselves in the persecution of mission- ary teachers ; and under the influence of the rector of the parish, who has acquired an unenvi- able notoriety for cruelty to his own and other men's slaves, the missionaries and their Churches have been assailed with the fiercest opposition. Consigned one after another to a loathsome dungeon reeking with unwholesome miasma, one missionary has already sunk into the grave, his young life cut short by persecution ; and another has been com- pelled to seek the restoration of his health, broken down by the same cause, across the sea. It is no difficult matter, therefore, for a vicious press to induce the planters in this neighborhood to believe and act upon the improbable assumption that the missionaries have been the instigators of the negro insurrection, and that they are the con- cealed agents of the Antislavery Society in En- gland. Day after day the columns of certain newspapers teem with abuse of the missionaries. The planters are urged to deeds of violence, and called upon to unite for the purpose of destroying all missionary institutions, and driving every mis- sionary teacher from the land. Powerfully wrought upon by such representations, and with such views and purposes filling their minds, these men have come together. More than one violent harangue has been ad- dressed to the meeting ; and by one man especially, whose standing in the parish has given him a con- siderable degree of influence, the British Govern- ment and the British Churches, the Antislavery 282 Romance Without Fiction, Society, Wilberforce, Buxton, Brougham, Lushing- ton, and, above all, the missionaries, have been denounced as the enemies of the colony in strains of unmeasured vituperation, as leagued together to rob the poor injured West India planter of his property and his rights. The speaker being a man of intelligence and of some intellectual cul- ture, and one whose oratorical powers, of no mean order, have been frequently exercised in the local Parliament, the effect of his address has been pow- erful ; and the passions and prejudices of his hearers being wrought up to a high degree of ex- citement, they are ready for any lawless procedure that will lessen the power of their opponents, or tend to the security of the cherished system of slavery. He is followed by one whom, if we look only at the office he fills, we should hardly expect to see in an assembly called together for such a purpose; for he is the rector of the parish, a minister of the Gospel of peace and love. But, alas ! he is a slaveholder himself, and that not of the mildest type. His name has only lately resounded from a thousand platforms in Great Britain in connection with a case of flagrant maltreatment of a female slave, stirring up feelings of horror and indigna- tion in all who heard it. He is a man of learning, and of more than ordinary intellectual power ; but, debased by contact with slavery, his sense of right and justice has been perverted, and he has become a panderer to the slaveholding interest, and the defender of their unholy claims. His Driving 'Aivay the Rooks. 283 talents, worthy of a better cause, are prostituted to the advocacy of oppression, and to the utterance of libels upon the innocent and the good, which brings down upon him the ban of the superior courts both of law and equity in the mother coun- try. Perhaps it may be that those who fall from the greatest height sink to the lowest depth, as a simple matter of cause and effect. But, however that may be, certain it is that in all that assembly there is not one who has manifested such enven- omed bitterness against missionary teachers, or has been so active and violent in opposing their labors among the slaves, as himself; and beyond doubt the persecution of these men of God, and of the slave members of their Churches, some of whom have been done to death by cruel treatment, has been mainly, if not entirely, owing to the malign influence exercised by him. It is not, therefore, a matter of surprise when, rising from his seat, he follows in the train of foregoing speakers, and denounces the missionaries as the most dangerous enemies of the country, and the fomenters of rebellion among the slaves ; calling upon the excited, eager mass of persons around him to be up and doing, and save the country from the fate impending over it, by driving out the men who, to use his words, " are tampering with and corrupting our slaves." He concludes an earnest inflammatory appeal, which has aroused the worst passions of his hearers to almost uncon- trollable violence, by borrowing the sentiment of John Knox, uttered by him concerning the over- 284 Romance Without Fiction. throw of the monastic institutions. " The worst and most dangerous of your enemies," he says, " are among you ; they are in your midst ; they are in daily intercourse with your slaves, tamper- ing with and corrupting them. For the sake of all that is sacred and dear to you ; for the sake of your families and your property, you must drive them from your midst : you must get rid of them. And let me give you a hint ; a word to the wise is sufficient : ' If you would get rid of the rooks you must destroy their nests ! ' " The effect of this sinister advice, given by one who professes to be a minister of Christ and a preacher of the ever blessed Gospel, soon becomes manifest. It has entered into not unwilling ears ; and the corrupt newspapers in the interest of the planters are speedily found relating, in exulting strains, the exploits of the St. Ann's heroes, who, after doing their part in putting down the insur- rection of the slaves, are destroying " those dens of sedition, the missionary chapels," all over the north-west part of the island. For several weeks scarcely a day passes that there is not some account of a Christian sanctuary burned to ashes, or leveled with the ground, by the hands of sacrilegious violence. The newspapers also abound with boastful letters from the actors themselves, who trumpet their own achieve- ments, in depriving the poor slaves of the religious instruction which constitutes the only alleviation of their wretched and hopeless condition, as if they had accomplished some laudable undertaking Driving Away the Rooks. 285 of which they might justly be proud. A man named Innis has gone in open day to the chapel at Ebenezer, in the mountains of St. Ann, and, apply- ing a firebrand to a heap of dry leaves and wood collected for the purpose underneath the building, has burned it down, and there is not a post or rafter of it left. At Falmouth, a body of the St. Ann's planters, assisted by others of the planting fraternity in the neighborhood, and aided by the loan of ropes and blocks from the sugar ships in the har- bor, have pulled down the Wesleyan and the Baptist chapels in the town. As both were sub- stantial erections, it has been an undertaking of great toil and difficulty, and has occupied several days to effect it ; but the work has proceeded un- checked by the local authorities, and the chapels and all other buildings associated with them are now heaps of ruins. The chief merit of this good work is claimed by and conceded to the men from St. Ann's, who began the demolition, and have toiled at it without intermission, except for neces- sary rest, until its completion. At Ocho Kios a planter, named Taylor, heads the ruffianly band who destroy the missionary sanctuaries in that place. And so it goes on from week to week, the St. Ann's planters every-where taking the lead, in accordance with the advice given to them by the rector, until eighteen mission sanctuaries, de- voted chiefly to the religious instruction of the slaves and the neglected free colored population, have been destroyed by violence, together with several missionary residences and other buildings. 286 Romance Without Fiction. It is the proud boast, reiterated again and again in the newspapers by the " St. Ann's heroes," that *' all along a range of coast extending over seventy or eighty miles, and stretching far into the interior, they have not left a single sedition shop standing, nor a house in which the sedition mongers can find shelter." The friends of slavery in other parts of the island are strongly urged, by a partisan press, to imitate " the noble example " of the " St. Ann's planters," until some of the editors are reminded, by those who are friendly to the missionaries, and regard with indignation what has been done on the north side of the island, that there is a possibility of the colored people being stirred up to retaliate ; and in such a case, it is intimated, the newspapers and editors that have labored to bring about such results will not be forgotten. This suffices to pro- duce a remarkable change in the tone of these papers. The inflammatory appeals already put forth have produced an effect, and there are not wanting, on the south side of the island, those who would gladly respond to them, and emulate the example of the St. Ann's chapel-destroyers, were it safe to do so. But it is soon discovered that such proceedings are not likely to pass with the impunity which has marked their progress in the north. There the free colored population are few, and thinly scattered, and could have no hope of making head against the overwhelming influence and numbers of the planters. But in and around the city of Kingston there is a formidable body of Driving Away the Rooks. 287 intelligent colored and black men, all of them free, and many of them wealthy. These owe much to the labors of Christian missionaries, and hold them in the highest esteem. They read with strong feelings of indignation the accounts which issue from the press from day to day concerning the demolition of Christian sanctuaries, and avow their determination to prevent a repetition of the sacrilege on their side of the island. They ako proceed to such demonstrations for the protection of the chapels as prove that they are in earnest, and make it manifest that civil war will be the re- sult if any such deeds of violence are attempted as those which the Government has countenanced, or at least tolerated, without a single effort to re- buke them, in St. Ann's and Trelawny. Induced by the apathy of the authorities to combine in large numbers for the protection of property, they refuse to disband, until the authorities pledge themselves to protect all missionary property from unlawful violence. The poor weak man, boasting a title of Irish nobility, who is intrusted with the administration of the Government, is either too listless to inter- fere, or too much influenced by a cowardly fear of the planters to lift a hand in discouragement of the deeds of violence which day after day form the principal topic of the island newspapers. His sympathies are no doubt with the wrong-doers. For weeks these violent and unlawful doings go on with his full knowledge of all the details ; yet not a word proceeds from the chief magistrate of 288 Romance Without Fiction. the land to forbid them, until civil war becomes imminent, and a collision of classes is brought on which, should it once break into open violence, is likely to end in bloodshed, and perhaps in a signal revenge of the injuries and degradations heaped upon the black and colored race by the dominant class. This threatening aspect of affairs at length moves the authorities to interfere, and the assur- ance is given that all missionary property shall be protected from further damage. Thus a great danger is averted. The feeling manifested on the south side of the island among the free black and colored people, who constitute the chief strength of the island militia, is not without effect elsewhere. In some of the principal towns in the northwest the chapel- destroyers find themselves confronted by men whom it may be dangerous to provoke. An agent from St. Ann's, one of the wealthy planters of the parish, was endeavoring to stir up several persons of his own class to destroy a Christian sanctuary at Montego Bay, which stood near the house in which he was lodging. With much self-compla- cency he was pointing out to them how it might be done, and how the planters had acted in the district from which he came. A colored man who had listened to him suddenly stepped up, and, tapping him on the shoulder, directed his attention to a double-barreled gun standing in a corner of the room. " Mr. M., do you see that gun ? It has a brace of balls in it. There are more all around the neighborhood prepared for the same Driving Away the Rooks. 289 purpose and loaded. There are persons on the lookout night and day, as I am doing j and I can tell you that the man who approaches that build- ing to lay violent hands upon it, will have an ounce of lead in his brain before he is aware. If you are wise you will speedily clear out from this neighborhood." The planter returned home without loss of time, and the evil was arrested in that locality. The hostility to the missionaries and their labors is, however, by no means modified among the dominant class. Under the influence of the rector of St. Ann, who instigated the chapel-de- stroyers to their evil work, and who exults abun- dantly in what they have accomplished, a wide- spread combination is formed under the designation of the " Colonial Church Union." The avowed objects of this association are, to carry on a crusade against all missionary agents, to drive them from the island, and so conserve the interests of the slave institution. Many willingly, and some through fear, give in their adhesion to the perse- cuting league — for a complete system of terrorism has been established — until all the planters, and nearly all the white men of the colony, are in- cluded in this formidable " union." Not a few missionaries are consigned to loathsome prisons by planter magistrates in order to silence them ; and some, treated with brutal violence by planter mobs, have only escaped with life through the prompt interposition of free black and colored men ; blood having been shed, and life sacrificed, 290 Romance Without Fiction. on these occasions. One planter, who had joined with a mob to break into the dwelling of a mission- ary, and put him to death after a barbarous fashion, paid the penalty of his folly with his life. The assailing party were driven back by the vigorous arms of a few colored men, when this unfortunate man fell through mistake, in the partial darkness, into the hands of his own party, who, supposing that they had got the missionary into their power, dealt upon him such severe blows as to fracture his skull before they discovered their mistake. After he had lingered for gome time in great suf- fering, never able to resume his employment, the wounds he had received brought him prematurely to the grave, his dying hours being cheered by the prayers and counsels of one of the missionaries whom he had sought to destroy. For some months the Colonial Church Union rules the colony, and all other authority is virtually superseded. The magistrates are compelled to do its bidding, and use their authority according to its designs ; every jury box in the land is under its control ; and the feeble governor, and the offi- cers of the Government, all yield a willing, or un- willing, submission to its dictates. In some parts of the island, where the missionary sanctuaries have been left standing through fear of collision with the free black and colored -men, the magis- trates, acting under instructions from the Colonial Union, have closed them and suspended religious services, scattering the congregation and imprison- ing the minister. The missionaries, threatened Driving Away the Rooks. 291 with violence, or brutally assailed by fierce mobs, who break into their house at night, apply to the magistrates for the protection and redress to which, as British subjects, they are entitled, but are told, "We dare not interfere." They then state their grievances to the governor, as the chief mag- istrate and representative of the sovereign, and are informed by him, " I cannot help you. You must, if you are aggrieved, apply to the courts of justice." They know well that this will be in vain, yet they carry their complaints before the courts through every obstruction which official hostility can interpose, producing abundant wit- nesses both to prove their grievances and to iden- tify the aggressors. But the grand juries are composed of the men who are leagued together in the Colonial Church Union for the purpose of wronging them, and, to a man, stand pledged to obey the behests of the conspirators who have superseded the laws and usurped the government of the colony. The consequence is that every bill of indictment is ignored ; and the injured missionaries, who see their places of worship lying in ruins, and all their rights ruthlessly trampled down, are made to feel that, in a British colony, under the British flag, and under a British gover- nor, there is for them no law. They can look for protection and redress only to " the righteous Lord who loveth righteousness." Such a state of things may not, however, long con- sist with the honor of the British crown, nor will the Churches of the motlier country endure in silence 19 292 Romance Without Fiction. this triumph of clerical and planter intolerance, The curse and shame of slavery begins now to be felt by British Christians as it has never been felt before. The nation wakes up to the enormity of the evil. A storm of indignation is aroused against slavery and the slaveholders such as never swept over the country at any former period. The Brit- ish Government — the most potent in the world — is constrained to bow before it, and the law for abolishing British slavery, carried by triumphant majorities both of Lords and Commons, is re- corded on the statute book. The world beholds the spectacle, unparalleled in history, of a repent- ant nation voluntarily giving back from its treas- ury some of the gains of wrong-doing, letting the oppressed go free, and setting a noble example of justice and reparation to the world by washing its hands from all further participation in a cruel sys- tem that originated in the dark days of barbarism and religious error. Some months before the act abolishing slavery passes through Parliament the feeble man who occupies the seat of power at the king's house is recalled. A nobleman of different character takes his place, who is selected as well qualified to in- itiate the new era of freedom about to commence, and the reign of anarchy soon passes away. The Earl of Mulgrave, on his arrival, finds the island pros rate at the feet of the Colonial Church Union, planter mobs superseding by lawless violence the administration of law and justice, and thousands of the people arbitrarily deprived of religious Drivifig Away the Rooks. 293 ordinances. It takes him a little while to make observations and acquaint himself with the condi- tion of public affairs, and then he begins to act. A proclamation is published denouncing the Colonial Church Union as an unlawful conspiracy against the rights and liberties of British subjects, and calling upon all who hold commissions, either civil or military, under the crown, to detach themselves from the illegal combination under penalty of his majesty's displeasure. This docu- ment, posted in public places, and advertised in the newspapers, creates great consternation among the conspirators, while it gives much joy to the oppressed. But the whole planter community is on foot to resist such " a tyrannical interference with their rights as colonists." " Is not the island ours .'* Shall we not do what we will with our own } Shall it be endured that these seditious corrupters of our slaves shall be protected by the Government in interfering with our property ? " Meeting after meeting is held, and the conduct of the Government is denounced by the colonial Church orators with much fierce and fiery decla- mation, and the more robust adherents of the ex- ploded union, urged on by the St. Ann's rector, who has the address to keep himself out of sight in the matter, defy the governor, and pour con- tempt upon the royal proclamation. But the contest is of brief duration. With a promptitude and firmness contrasting strongly with the listlessness and reckless disregard of duty manifested by his predecessor, the noble 294 Romance Without Fiction. earl presents himself at every post of danger. The men of violence more than onc^ find them- selves, in the performance of their lawless doings, suddenly confronted by the governor, and see the chief magistrate in their midst when they believe him to be a hundred miles distant. By a policy as just as it is wise, and with a zeal honorable alike in its forbearance and in its courage, shrink- ing neither from fatigue nor from danger, his pur- pose is soon accomplished. Militia officers who refuse obedience to their captain-general are su- perseded, and find their commissions canceled ; magistrates who daringly violate the law in their own persons are dismissed from the office they have abused and dishonored. In a few weeks the persecuting association melts away like snow in the sun, and peace and order are restored throughout the island, the forerunners of a day shortly to dawn upon these sunny isles, when -liberty shall be pro- claimed to the captive, and the opening of the prison door to them that are bound. But the matter is not suffered to rest here. There is a book which says concerning those who " take counsel together, against the Lord, and against his anointed, saying. Let us break their bands asunder, and cast away their cords from us. He that sitteth in the heavens shall laugh : the Lord shall have them in derision. Then shall he speak unto them in his wrath, and vex them in his sore displeasure. Yet have I set my king upon my holy hill of Zion. . . . Thou shalt break them with a rod of iron ; thou shalt dash them in pieces Driving Away the Rooks. 295 like a potter's vessel." It is against him these men have conspired. It is the spread of his truth they are leagued together to oppose. It is against places consecrated to his worship and the preach- ing of his Gospel that they have dared to lift the hand of sacrilegious violence, and lay them even with the ground. It is to prevent the light of his word reaching the souls for whom Christ died, in order that they may shut them up in heathen darkness, and keep them groaning under the iron yoke of oppression. " And shall not the Lord visit for these things .'' " Yea, assuredly, if there be any truth in the threatenings which his word records, and any meaning in the lessons of human history. It is a strife with God which these men have been carrying on, and " Woe unto him that striveth with his Maker," is the warning which the Bible proclaims, and history illustrates by a thou- sand impressive facts. They have evaded the penalties imposed by human laws upon wrong- doers, but they may not so easily elude the justice and power of him, the scepter of whose kingdom is a scepter of righteousness. Even in connec- tion with this life it may be seen in Jehovah's dealings with these men of violence, how " He or- daineth his arrows against the persecutors." In the same newspaper columns in which their sacrilegious exploits were blazoned forth in proud bravado to the world, the names of these evil- workers are to be inscribed as passing away from earth in rapid succession to appear before the just Judge of all the earth. General readers perceive 296 Romance Without Fiction. little in these records beyond the ordinary course of earthly events, and the accidents which fre- quently checker with their shadows the every day history of human life. But those who know the association these men have had with the dark deeds of the past, and who are accustomed to consider the works of the Lord, and regard the operations of his hand, in the light shed upon them by divine revelation, see, in the tragic cir- cumstances attending the swift removal of so many of these persecutors from life, the fulfillment of the Divine word, " Though hand join in hand, the wicked shall not be unpunished." And as they drop in rapid succession into the grave, cut off by '"''accident'" or by suicide, or otherwise borne swiftly from life in the midst of their days, even the surviving partakers in their evil deeds dis- cover something remarkable in it, so that one who had been prominent and active above many of his fellows, and who lived long enough to afford evi- dence that he repented of the evil, acknowledged, as he contemplated the mournful end of many of his associates, " The hand of the Lord is in this." And truly the hand of the Lord is in these oc- currences, however the skeptic or the worldling may curl his lip in haughty scorn and cry, " Fa- naticism ! " If it be true that a sparrow falleth not on the ground without our heavenly Father, these erring heirs of immortality are not swept away from life, with all their stupendous account- ability attaching to them, without his intervention. Nor is the manner of their removal from earth, Driving Azvay the Rooks. 297 any more than the death itself, the result of mere chance or accident. It is the ordering of that Providence which with unerring wisdom controls with regard to every human being the issues of life. Mr. I. is a man who has been one of the most active in the demolition of Christian sanctuaries. He is the proprietor of a small property in the in- terior of St. Ann's, and one of those who listen with excited feelings to the sinister eloquence of the rector when, like Ahithophel, he urges upon his hearers counsel largely impregnated with the wis- dom of the old Serpent. None enters upon the unholy work with more active zeal than he. Among the first to lay violent hands upon a chapel distant from his own house, he labors with untiring energy, pouring out abundant oaths and curses, until the building, which has only just been completed at considerable cost, is a ruin. In several other undertakings of a similar kind he is one of the most earnest workers, denouncing the missionaries with an intensity of bitterness and profusion of blasphemy and profanity quite characteristic of a Jamaica planter. Returning home he finds that a missionary sanctuary quietly hidden in the mountains, and not very distant from his own house, has not been destroyed. His hand it is that applies the torch and commits it to the flames, and the little place of worship, where many a toil-worn slave has received the only consolation his unhappy lot admitted of, dis- appears from the scene of rural beauty, of which 298 Romance Without Fiction, it was the principal ornament. Only a few months elapse, and the announcement of his death appears in the newspapers. But it is not stated there, though it is a fact well known in the neighbor- hood, that the unhappy man, having become in- volved in difficulties, has sought to get rid of his troubles by suicide. The hand that Avas sacrile- giously raised to destroy the house of God has been lifted against his own life. He is found dead with his throat cut, the weapon with which he had committed the deed still clasped in his hand. Mr. T. is a planter, the overseer of a large sugar plantation in St. Ann's, a man of bold, daring char- acter, fearing neither God nor man, just fitted for such ungodly work as that marked out by the rector, and he enters upon it with all the enjoy- ment of which such a rough and turbulent nature is capable. No hand is more energetic than his in fixing and hauling ropes by which places sacred to the worship of God are pulled down and deso- lated. No shout rises higher than his as the flames burst forth which consume the missionary chapel or dwelling-house, and wherever any thing of the kind is going on he is sure to be there. He heads the party which destroys the mission station near- est to his own dwelling, affecting no concealment, and he continues at the congenial work until every building upon it has disappeared — the very mate- rials being carried off to be used elsewhere, a goodly portion of them falling into his own pos- session. Loud is the exultation of this man when, through a large district of country, not a " secta- Driving Away the Rooks. 299 rian place of worship" is left standing; louder still is his boasting joy when brother planters on the grand jury, disregarding all the evidence which clearly identifies him and his fellows as law break- ers and chapel-destroyers, and equally disregard- ing the solemn oath they had taken to do justice, ignore the bills of indictment, and shield the men of violence and blood from the penalties of the laws they have violated. A few months roll away, and the newspapers report '"'' the sad accidenf which has deprived the colony of this valuable member of the community. He is looking about a build- ing in course of erection on the plantation of which he is the overseer when he inadvertently sets his foot upon an old rusty nail pointing up from a piece of timber. Being a heavy man, it pierces through his boot and penetrates the flesh among the sinews of the foot. Disregarded as a trifling matter, no importance is attached to the apparently slight wound. But in a day or two there is inflammation, then follows gangrene, pro- ducing locked-jaw and death. The chapel-de- stroyer, in the very prime of lusty health and vigor, has dropped suddenly into the grave, to be followed very shortly by several others who were of the party he had led on to destroy a mission station, five of whom pass away to appear in the presence of the Just and Holy One, with the guilt of self- murder upon their souls. There is Mr. L. He has headed a party of ruf- fianly men in surrounding a missionary's dwelling, within whose wooden walls the missionary and his 300 Romance Without Fiction. family were sleeping, and under cover of darkness they have riddled the peaceful habitation with musket balls, firing a succession of volleys into it, with the diabolical purpose of destroying the un- offending inmates when they had retired to rest. He also has been active in the demolition of Christian sanctuaries. His name, too, soon ap- pears in the records of mortality, for with the weapon he had used in the attempt to assassinate a peace '"ul family he scatters his own brains, and thus passes away from among the living. There is Mr. H., a minister of religion, and the' rector of a large parish, who had not scrupled to take an active part in destroying mission chapels, and to enlarge his own library with the plunder of a missionary's study. He is a profligate and blas- phemer of the worst type. This man is swept to an early grave in a duel which he forces upon his most intimate friend. Foremost in deeds of vio- lence and persecution, he had plotted the secret murder of a missionary in the mere wantonness of a cruel disposition which delighted in shedding blood. He had made an open boast of " the ex- cellent fun it was to get a crack at a nigger, and see him toppled over with a bullet in his black carcass." He does not find that there is much fun in it when a bullet cut short his own wicked career before he has passed his prime, known only as a man in whom, notwithstanding the sacred office from which he derived his living, there was an utter abnegation of every good quality, and a fearful proficiency in whatever is debasing and vile. Driving Aivay the Rooks. 301 There is Mr. M., a wealthy proprietor, who has been a sufferer to a large extent by the negro in- surrection, all the valuable buildings of his plan- tation having been burned by the insurgent ne- groes. He perhaps has a better apology than many others for the deeds of violence and sacri- lege in which he has been induced to become an active participator, for he was led to believe the improbable story that the missionaries instigated the slaves to make that effort to seize their free- dom which has led to such sacrifice of life and property. He has been spending the day with a large circle of friends in trials of skill with rifles and pistols, and indulging freely in the use of beverages, of which there is never any scarcity when Jamaica planters congregate for any pur- pose. The whole party, animated and gay, are assembled in the drawing-room after dinner, dis- cussing the occurrences of the day, when a young man, who has accidentally joined the party, takes up from the table on which they were laid one 01 the pistols which have contributed to the sport of the noisy revelers. Not aware that it is loaded, and little accustomed to such articles, while he clumsily examines it the pistol explodes. The fatal contents are lodged in the person of the owner of the mansion, inflicting a wound which in a few brief hours lays him low in death, making his blooming young wife a widow, and two or three little ones fatherless. There is Major C, the servile tool of dominant intolerance, who, at the bidding of a persecuting 302 Romance Without Fiction. faction, has abused his authority as a magistrate to hinder and suppress the worship of God, send- ing missionaries to prison for preaching the truth, and acting as a leader in the destruction of houses of prayer. He also is singled out as an early ex- ample of retribution. He is returning as morning dawns from a gay party, where the night has been spent in dancing and dissipation, and the wine has circulated freely. Being less steady than usual in consequence of what he has imbibed through the night, he falls heavily against some stone steps that are in his path. No serious results are at first apprehended from the accident, as he is able to rise and pursue his walk. But internal injuries have been received, and before the day wanes to its close he has ceased to be numbered with the living. Mr. B. has his life prematurely brought to an end by restive mules overturning the vehicle in which he is traveling. Mr. M'C. is found dead in his bed with a ghastly wound in his throat, but whether inflicted by his own hand or by the hand of an assassin, cannot be determined. Mr. H., one of the most prominent and malignant, as he is one of the most influential, of all the persecuting faction, is smitten by the hand of death at his own festive board, surrounded by men of kindred spirit, and he retires from the hilarious assemblage he has been feasting only to stretch himself upon the couch from which he v/ill never again rise in life. Mr. L. suddenly disappears from the aristocratic circle of which he has been for many years one of Driving Away the Rooks. 303 the most influential members, and the fact soon transpires that he is a defaulter to a large amount in the public office he has filled, and public funds and private interests suffer largely from his betrayal of the trust confided to him. Reduced to poverty, and with a dishonored name, he sinks into de- spondency, and presumptuously opening for him- self a way to the unseen world, he is laid in a sui- cide's grave. So does God's providence work. His hand is manifestly lifted up to vindicate and sustain his cause ; and one after another, as " his arrows are ordained against the persecutors," the men of vio- lence disappear from life, furnishing most impres- sive illustrations of the words of the Psalmist : " I have seen the wicked in great power, and spread- ing himself like a green bay tree. Yet he passed away, and, lo, he was not : yea, I sought him, but he could not be found. . . . The transgressors shall be destroyed together : the end of the wicked shall be cutoff." Psalm xxxvii, 35-38. Several years have passed away, and a large number of those who Avere once banded together to break up missionary institutions, and drive mis- sionaries from the land, are slumbering in the dust, while some have seen the error of their ways, and look back with regret upon the deeds of violence and wrong into which they were led by following evil counsel. In several instances men of this class, admonished by the fate which has overtaken so many of their co-operators in an evil work, have contributed to rebuild the Christian 504 Romance Without Fiction. sanctuaries they assisted to destroy. " Do you re- meniber having met with Mr. S. before?" This inquiry is addressed to a missionary by a fellow- traveler as they are riding away from a sugar- plantation, whither they were driven for shelter by stress of weather the night before ; and where, as the bad weather continued, they have been com- pelled to pass the night, experiencing at the hands of the gentleman in charge of the property all possible kindness and hospitality. " No," the mis- sionary replies, " I am not aware that I have ever seen him before ; but certainly his attention to our comfort has been somewhat remarkable. I do not remember that I have ever experienced so much kindness at the hands of a stranger." "You may not remember him, but he knows you very well. Do you remember when a mob of white men broke into your house at Falmouth and nearly succeeded in setting you on fire .'' " " Yes, I shall not easily forget that." "Well, Mr. S. was one of that mob. He told me all about it after you had gone to bed. He recognized you the moment we rode into the estate, and expressed to me the pleasure it afforded him to have the opportunity of making some atone- ment for the past by receiving you as his guest. He was ashamed to speak of it to you ; but I have no doubt that he intended me to mention it, as he called me back, and begged me to repeat the invi- tation he gave you, whenever you pass this way, to make his house your home." Nor is this the only instance of repentant kind- ness shown to the same missionary by those who Driving Away the Rooks. 305 took part in the outrage. The evil days are gone. The unholy and oppressive system which these deeds of violence were designed to support has been superseded by the intermediate institution, designed, by a well-meant but mistaken policy, to prepare the way for unrestricted freedom, and the former things are passed away. After lying desolate for several years, while the missionary laborers have resumed their toil of mercy and love in tents or hired houses, and in some instances under the shade of the wide-spreading cedar or broad-leaf, the destroyed chapels are beginning to rise again in larger dimensions, and increased in number. Thousands flock to hear the word of life who never heard it before ; religious agencies are multiplied, and the persecutions of past years have resulted in giving an impulse to the cause of truth and religion in the land such as it never felt before. There is one of the persecutors remaining who in the evil days that are past occupied a large space in the public eye, and as yet gives no sign that he has come to a better state of mind. He was the chief of them all : the main-spring, origin- ating and controlling the whole movement on the part of the planter interest which has wrought such tragical results for the actors themselves, but has so signally failed in the object and purpose to which it was directed. There is the master mind, whose lofty powers were prostituted in planning malignant mischief for other hands to execute, and upon whom rests a large share of the responsi- 3o6 Romance Without Fiction. bility attached to many a deed of persecuting violence and wrong, in connection with which he has not openly appeared. His were the lips that uttered inflammatory counsels, and urged upon the persecutors to get rid of the rooks by destroying their nests. Bitter thoughts have doubtless fre- quently occupied his mind when he has seen how completely all his subtle schemes have been blighted and brought to nought ; and that the bad system, founded in unrighteousness and blood, to which he linked his interest, and which he labored to uphold with zeal and talents worthy of a better cause, has crumbled to the dust. But in the se- clusion of his own pleasant parsonage he is almost forgotten, as an object which the swift progress of events has left far behind, and almost out of sight. There are some, however, who remember the important part he played in the scenes of which Jamaica has been the theater, who think of the terrible sufferings which persecuted slaves have endured at his instigation, and know how largely the razing or burning of Christian temples and the desolation of missionary houses have been the work of his active brain. When they look around and see the wondrous way in which retribution has been dealt out upon the minor actors in these evil works, and how the lightning-blast of the Divine displeasure has fallen upon them in rapid succes- sion, it seems to them one of those inexplicable mysteries of Providence which baffle all human comprehension that the head and chief of them all, the guiltiest and most bitter persecutor of the Driving Away the Rooks. 307 whole, has been left unscathed. It may be that in this instance, as in the case of the chief of the persecutors in other days, the Divine Wisdom has purposes of mercy which transcend all human thought. Now, as then, it may be that it is in His de- signs to make him a chosen vessel, an instrument of good to others. But it is a matter which belongs to God alone, and none may without presumption say concerning it, " What doest Thou ? " The time comes when the mystery is solved, and a stupendous catastrophe, that makes all ears tingle throughout the length and breadth of the land, proclaims as with a trumpet voice that, al- though evil-doers are endured with much long- suffering, they are not forgotten of God. One after another many of those who followed his pernicious counsels have dropped into the dust, and perhaps with modified and chastened feelings he may have pondered the tragic circum- stances which clouded their latter end. But, how- ever this may be, no outward indications of it have appeared that human eyes could read, until the tragedy occurs that lays all his pride in the dust, and forces from him the acknowledgment that the hand of God has been lifted against him in visita- tion of his sins. His dwelling is beautifully situated upon a lower range of the lofty hills which rise abruptly, one height above another, at the bay named by Columbus Santa Gloria, and looking down upon the rock-inclosed harbor where he suffered ship- wreck, A little to the right is the narrow cove in 20 5o8 Romance Without Fiction. which his ships lay when the celebrated navigator, in his extremity for want of supplies, practiced upon the kind-hearted, ignorant aborigines, pro- voked by the treacherous aud cruel conduct of the Spaniards to leave the strangers to their own re- sources, that memorable deceit concerning the eclipse of their favorite planet, the moon, by which he induced them to yield a ready compliance with all his demands. The scene whereon the eye rests from the hill upon which that residence is situated is grand and beautiful. To the east stretches for several miles a plain, covered with the luxuriant growth of the sugar-cane, and dotted with the sugar-works of several plantations. On the hills which bound the plain, to the west and south, are to be seen the comfortable mansions of the more wealthy proprietors, beautifully embow- ered in groves of cedar or the fragrant pimento trees, whose rich dark green foliage contrast more agreeably to the eye with the lighter and more brilliant green of the guinea-grass pastures. The landscape is enlivened and adorned with groves or avenues of cocoa-nut or cabbage palms, their leaves waving like majestic plumes in the breeze, and diversified occasionally with specimens of the giant ceiba or cotton tree, whose massive wide- spreading branches afford a grateful shelter to the panting cattle from the fervid rays of the vertical sun. Looking northward, and stretching east and west as far as the eye can reach, there is the broad, deep channel, across which, although the distance is not less than from ninety to one hundred miles, Driving Away the Rooks. 309 through the clear pellucid atmosphere of these tropical regions, may often be seen before sunrise and near sunset the towering peaks of the mount- ains of Cuba, a land still cursed with the worst horrors of slavery, and containing more than six hundred thousand human beings held in bondage, and doomed to a life of hopeless, unrequited toil. To the westward the land scene is limited by the hills rising in some places almost abruptly near the shore, on which lie a succession of valuable sugar estates extending to Runaway Bay — so desig- nated from the fact that Don Sasi, the last Spanish commander who opposed the English in taking possession of the island, made his escape from this spot in a canoe, leaving the party he commanded to their fate. And he alone reached the shores of Cuba alive. At the foot of the hill, and partly on its slope, lies the little town called St. Ann's Bay, with wharves and stores stretching along the shore. Cocoa-nut trees in great abundance, and the rich foliage of the orange and star-apple, the plantain and the banana, overshadowing and partly concealing the dwellings of the inhabitants, impart grace and beauty to the landscape. Immediately under the eye ships ride at anchor in the harbor, surrounded by land and reefs, and accessible only by one or two narrow channels. This view calls up interest- ing memories of the great navigator, as it was here he first approached the shores of Jamaica, and here he passed through some of the most painful scenes of his checkered life, arising out of the 310 Romance Without Fiction. treachery and misconduct of his Spanish asso- ciates. The whole scene, as far as the eye can reach from the Cloisters — for such is the name that pleasant residence bears — is lovely, and fraught with interest from its association with the past. But it is destined to be invested with deeper and more painful interest as the scene of a terrible calamity, bringing sudden desolation and untold agony and woe to the secluded home which overlooks the landscape just described. Lovely in their favored situation, the Cloisters are graced by the presence of four beautiful girls, the daughters of the gentleman who owns and oc- cupies the place. The house may not be called a mansion, for it contains only just sufficient accom- modation for the family, and it is old, and getting somewhat out of repair. But intelligence and re- fined and cultivated taste preside there — womanly taste, whose magic influence invests all within and without the dwelling with grace and beauty, and converts it into a paradise of joy. These lovely Creole girls, beautiful as Hebe, though varying in the character of their loveliness, and all in the bloom and freshness of earliest womanhood, have but recently returned from Europe. There a fa- ther's fondness has lavished upon them the ad- vantages of the most finished education he could procure, and loving and amiable, as they are graceful and accomplished, they are well fitted to call into exercise all the pride and fondness of a parent's heart, as indeed they do. He is a proud man, but most of all he is proud of the sweet girls Driving Azvay the Rooks. 311 who have come to shed light and gladness upon the home in which, for several years past, he has had many gloomy and bitter thoughts. The fount- ains of love and tenderness in that sacred heart of his are broken up ; he lavishes upon these bright and attractive objects all the idolatrous fondness of which he is capable, and almost for- getting in their charmed circle that there is any higher joy to aspire after, he looks forward, as he contemplates the bloom and freshness and sparkling gayety of those loved ones, to the sun- shine of many happy years. Nor does he think for a moment of th.e possibility that all this brightness may fade like a dissolving view, and the objects of his heart's idolatry sink away from his embrace, as if the whole were a dream, him- self waking up to the bitter reality of desolation and woe. It is a lovely morning, glad with tropical light and beauty. In the harbor at the foot of the hill on which that bright home reposes, at a short dis- tance from the shore, are several large merchant ships resting upon the untroubled surface of the quiet bay, whose waters glisten like molten silver in the slanting rays of the morning sun. They are waiting to collect the rich freight of sugar, as it is manufactured on the several plantations around, and to convey it to the shores of Europe. One of these vessels is gayly decorated, the flags of all nations streaming from her masts and stays, for a gay party has been invited by her captain to par- take his hospitality, and take breakfast on board 312 Romance Without Fiction. his ship. The boats are in requisition, manned by hardy tars in holiday attire, and as the guests appear upon the wharf they are speedily conveyed to the ship. The gentlemen ascend the side lad- ders ; the ladies, placed in a chair, and carefully wrapped about with the Union Jack, are hoisted over the ship's side to the deck. A lively and brilliant party it is that is assembled on the quar- ter-deck, where a thick canvas awning, stretching from side to side, affords ample protection from the sun's fervid rays, while it gives free admission to the gentle refreshing breeze, which at this early hour comes down from the land. The guests are numerous, including the principal members of sev- eral families residing within a few miles of the Bay. But gayest among the gay, and loveliest among the lovely, are the sweet belles of the rectory, who, with their father, are there, and who form the principal center of attraction on that ship's deck. On their cheeks is the rosy bloom brought from Europe, which has not yet had time to fade away under the paling influence of the tropics, and the vivacity of the more temperate zone has not yet given place to the languor engendered by long residence in a more ardent clime. All who look upon these lovely girls, and mark their exuberance of gayety and their lively sallies of wit and repar- tee^ partake the enjoyment, and pronounce the father of such a troop of blooming maidens a blest and happy man. No one has any premonition of the dark cloud of woe that is even now enwrap- ping them in its folds, and in which a large por- Driving Away the Rooks. 313 tion of that laughing group disappear, to be seen no more on earth forever. A bountiful and dainty repast is served beneath the awning upon the deck, and all is festivity and enjoyment, intelligence and refinement being hand- maids of the well-selected company. The sea is smooth, for only a slight breeze ripples the surface outside, and within the bay the water scarcely moves at all, except as the large waves roll slug- gishly in and gently break upon the shore. A few clouds in the distant sky indicate the possibility of a shower later in the day, but they furnish no reason why the proposal should not be entertained to get the ship's boats round from the stern of the vessel, where they are lazily riding on the water, and take a pleasant sail about the bay. It is not a time of the year when storms occur, and the idea of possible danger in that well-sheltered harbor does not present itself to any mind. Amid fun and laughter the ladies are again swung over the sides ; the sailors, whose lusty arms, with a hearty "Yeo, heave O," hoist them into the air, and then let them gently down to the boat, entering into the fun with as much gusto as the gentlemen themselves. At length all are seated, the smart- looking captain, exulting in the triumph of the manoeuver by which he has succeeded in getting the belles of the party, the four charming sisters, into his own boat, an arrangement which separates them for the. time from their father, who would gladly have taken his seat with them, only that an equal division of the party among the several boats 314 Romance Without Fiction. «:onsigns him to another. The usually quiet har- bor resounds with laughter and merriment as the sails are hoisted, and the boats speed away from the ship. For some time they sail about the bay, casting out lines with treacherous bait to lure the denizens of the deep, with what results none can say. Whether it was that the captain, whose practiced eye should have scanned the heavens with the care almost instinctive in the sailor, was too much occupied in interesting converse with, and waiting on, his lovely charge, certain it is that neither he nor any one else observed that the scattered clouds had been attracted into one small compact mass, and, charged with wind and rain, were driving down upon them in a squall, which, in its com- paratively narrow course, might, without due care, place them in jeopardy. So contracted is its width that it reaches not the other boats ; but right upon the captain's boat the miniature tem- pest sweeps with terrible fierceness : and before the sail can be let loose the boat turns over, fills, and sinks, and all who were in it are struggling in the water. A few minutes and the squall has passed over, but those in the unfortunate boat have found a watery grave. The captain, who was steering, with the four sisters, and six others, have all dis- appeared from life. The other boats hasten to the fatal spot with all possible expedition, but it is too late. Not one of those whom the greedy sea has engulfed can be found ; nor are they ever seen .y* Driving Away the Rooks. 315 again. Eleven human spirits have suddenly passed within the vail that separates time and its concerns from the eternal world. Whether the victims sank down to find a resting-place among the reefs near which they disappeared, or whether hungry sharks, which frequent the bays and har- bors of these western isles in great numbers, especially when ships are anchored there, seized them as their prey, must be left to the revelations -J.^^^ of that day when the sea shall give up its dead. But they are gone. The lively, laughing, joyous party have all passed away from human ken ; and the sparkling wit, the sweet melody, and the pleas- ant jest are hushed in the silence of death. To more than one family sorrow and desolation have been brought home by the shocking catastrophe, the news of which soon spreads gloom over all the land. But who shall describe the feelings which rend the heart of the bereaved father, as he looks on from another boat, and beholds his life's joy swallowed up in a moment before his eyes } It may not be. No words can depict the agony of that stricken heart, or express an adequate idea of the great and crushing sorrow that presses upon his soul. These daughters, graced with the charms of youthful beauty, the accomplishments of a re- fined education, the attractions of a sweet and amiable disposition, inherited from a mother of meek and quiet spirit, and, above all, adorned with a sincere regard for religion, were not only admired and loved by the father, but, as he afterward con- 3i6 Romance Without Fiction. fessed in great bitterness of spirit, were idolized hy him. He suffered them to occupy that place in his heart which no creature or creatures ought to fill ; where God, the great and good, alone should be enthroned. And in proportion to the pride he has felt in them and the all-absorbing love he has lavished upon them, is the utter prostration of spirit which he feels when he sees the idols shat- tered; and that upon which he trusts for happi- ness, and upon which he has built all his most cherished hopes, sinks out of sight forever. He is conducted to his desolated home, so lately full of sunshine and joy, now dark, cheerless, wretched, beyond all that language can describe. Friends surround him, but he refuses to be comforted ; and like a stricken worm he lies writhing and groaning in affliction and helplessness, till weeks an,d months have passed away, the world one wide scene of desolation all around. Time, that lessens the acuteness of the sharpest grief, brings some mitigation of his heavy burden of distress ; but, what is far better, he is led to turn his thoughts inward upon himself, and backward upon the past. The views and feelings which have influenced his life are greatly modified as he re- 'gards them in the surroundings of that chamber . of sickness and sorrow ; and he begins to perceive that the past with him has been a mistake, a sad, mournful mistake. Among those who have stepped forward to show their sympathy with the heart-stricken man, and to express their sorrow at the teirible calamity which robbed him of his Driving Away the Rooks. 317 children, are those who have largely suffered at his hands, and, through his pernicious counsels, nave had their homes desolated, and their sanc- tuaries laid waste. It is no time now to call up the remembrance of such wrongs, when the God- smitten man so greatly needs the condolence of all loving hearts, and the richer consolations of Divine grace. A grateful, courteous reception is given to men from whom once he would have turned away in bitter scorn ; and he listens attent- ively while they speak of a heavenly Father chastening in love, and of heart-rending afflic- tions, which wring each tender fiber of the heart, coming as messengers of Divine benignity to whis- per in the erring sinner's ear, " My son, give me thine heart." He joins with them, too, in those breathings to a throne of grace, which though expressed in no canonical words, are well adapted to a case of overwhelming grief, for which no forms of prayer he has been accustomed to are appro- priate. Months speed away before the bereaved one is able to lift himself upon the bed of suffering on which he has been cast, scathed, shattered, and stripped as with the lightning stroke of heaven ; but he comes forth at length a subdued and greatly changed man. The towering pride of intellect, of station, of intolerance, has been smitten to the dust. The vail which selfishness and worldiness had drawn before his eyes, and over his heart, rendering him insensible to the just claims of others, and producing an indifference to human 3i8 Romance Without Fiction. suffering at which he now stands amazed, is rent asunder. He now perceives and humbly ac- knowledges, as he looks upward from his prostra- tion, " It is the Lord ; let him do what seemeth him good." But he is not to resume there those duties which belong to his ofhce. He feels that to be beyond his power. Not there can he remain, where every object would but recall perpetually the memory of his lost ones, and revive the pangs of that visitation of God which blighted all his earthly joy. Not there, where so many years have been awfully misspent, where sacred duties have been neglected, where deeds of crying wrong have been done, which may be repented of, but cannot be repaired. Not there, where sad, bitter, agonizing memories would be called up by every varying scene upon which the eye could rest, and shame and humiliation would meet him at every turn. No ; he must seek another home. Far away in some distant sphere he will exercise that sacred office, of all the duties and responsibilities of which he has hitherto been so regardless. And so it is determined, no doubt after anxious deliber- ation and prayer ; for, scoffer as he has been, he has at length learned to pray. The living he has held through so many years is resigned, and prep- arations are made for departure from the island. But before finally separating from those among whom he has lived and suffered, as he is yet too much bowed down under his affliction to meet them in person, he addresses a farewell letter to Driving Away the Rooks. 319 his parishioners, full of pathetic and penitential acknowledgments. This affecting address serves to show that he has turned to God in his distress, and justifies the hope that the concluding portion of his life will be more worthily and usefully- employed than the years that are past. It also affords conclusive evidence that he, as well as those who, awe-struck and sorrowful, looked upon it from around, has been constrained to recognize in the startling, crushing calamity that swept away his cherished ones, the hand of a righteous God, lifted against him in just retri- bution. We may not give this touching appeal in full ; but a few extracts will serve to show the chastened and altered views with which the man of violence has been brought to look upon both the past and the future : In the expectation of soon quitting these shores, I feel constrained thus to address you, whose claims upon me are increased by a conscious neglect of many important duties as rector of this extensive parish ; and coming from one who not only tells you that he deeply laments his many failings, but who stands before you a terrible ex- ample of God's awakening judgments, my words may not, perhaps, fall unheeded on the ears of all. . . . " When all around looked fair and smiled, a dark and mysterious providence, which neither men nor angels can at present penetrate, sent death in one of its most terrific, unexpected 320 Romance Without Fiction. shapes among the happiest of our domestic cir- cles, cut short the brightest days of many a thoughtless heart, and summoned eleven beings suddenly before their great Creator. . . . " Nature will be heard, and even says we do well to weep for those on whom death comes thus suddenly in days of youth and hope. O what a strange and melancholy change have they expe- rienced ! Instead of the cheerful light of day, the unbroken darkness of ocean's strange unfathomed caves now covers them until the last great day ! Instead of the fond caresses of parents, friends, and children, the horrid monsters of the briny deep are now their sole companions ! Their earthly hopes have died ; all their expectations for this life have perished ! . . . " Such complicated misery, a more than ordi- nary share of which falls to my single lot to bear, has, I confess, bowed my spirit to the very dust. With unwonted weight the heavy burden hangs upon my soul. In the agony of my heart, when told of the compassion of my Saviour, I have wickedly said, ' Such compassion will not suit my case. I need more than pity. My misery admits of no relief. My children are all taken from me, and no miracles now rouse the slumbering dead : how, then, shall I be comforted ? Nothing is left for the desolate but to mourn and die .-* ' Yet, alas ! what a limiting of God's power, what a questioning of his equity, is this ! . . . " Who that has been deeply tried has not expe- rienced the weakening, disheartening effects of Driving Away the Rooks. 321 long-continued sorrow, something of the selfish- ness and despondency and sloth and aching for sympathy, with that unconquerable proneness to look for human aid which nature connects with all mental grief? Yet if there be a creature in the universe who has reason to trust in God and to hope in his mercy, it is myself, a poor inhabitant of earth whom affliction has stopped in his thought- less career, whom sorrow has taught to pray, whom adversity has led to Christ. Let one, then, who feels that he has but carelessly tended you as your pastor, now serve you better as a beacon, standing before you a wretched instance of the uncertain hold we have of all our earthly comforts. . . . " Remember the dear departed who have been removed hence for our warning, and the trembling victim by whom you are now admonished. Think of my punishment. Blessed with the fleeting com- forts of the world, I was trusting in their stability, secure, I thought, in my own resources. I did not remember that it was God who lent me what I was so blessed with. T+iey were placed by me be- tween my soul and the Saviour. I prized the gift so much that I forgot the Giver. So, to reclaim an apostate heart, he returned in an unexpected moment and took them all away. . . . " Does this look like the work of chance .'' No ; it was the fearful work of an offended God. To vindicate his name, to compel all beholders to see that he was its author in the awful case before us, he struck such a blow as mortal arm could scarcely have inflicted ; so rapid, so destructive, so unac- 322 Romance Without Fiction. countable, that unbelief itself must be compelled to ascribe it to his omnipotent arm. In a moment, under the serenest sky, with scarcely a cause ap- parent, eleven happy beings, in the bloom of youth and health, are separated from their parents, hus- bands, and children, smile in their death, and sink beneath the waves. Take heed, then, my friends, how you attempt to push God out of his own world. I once tried to do so ; you see what I got for it : the destruction of all my comforts, and that, too, in a manner so striking, so unexpected, that though I saw them go, their loss still seems but the illusion of a dream. He rushed upon me in an imexpected moment of thoughtless enjoy- ment, came with the suddenness of lightning, and with the violence of a hurricane, and scarcely had the waves closed over my children when I felt my * sins had found me out ! ' He took my four chil- dren from me when they had just become most dear; when I most required their aid; when I was clinging to them as if indeed the world would be a blank without them-. In the • sweet possession of them I had experienced much of God's mercy, in their loss I am now taught the last lesson that fool- ish man will learn on earth — God's sovereignty." Many rejoice over these outpourings of a bleed- ing heart, for they show that the Lord's hand has not been laid upon the sufferer in vain, and that he has been driven by the terrors of the Lord to shelter within the wings of the Divine mercy, whith- er no sinner ever repairs in vain. And this is the last that is known of him in the colony where he Driving Away the Rooks. 323 has wrought and suffered so much of evil. He disappears, to be seen there no more. But his course may be traced in two quarters of the globe for many years — more than a quarter of a century ; never, however, by any deeds that appear to be unworthy of his changed character or of the sa- cred office he continues to fill, until he finds his resting-place in the dust somewhere in one of the western counties of England. His spirit, it is re- freshing to believe, was absolved, regenerated, and purified from all earthly influences before passing to the better land, to be forever with that exalted, loving Saviour, who, through the fires of much painful affliction, had drawn him to his own feet. Somewhere on the coast in the west of England a large boulder is to be seen, consecrated years after the occurrence by a father's enduring love, to be a memorial of the four lovely girls lying far, far away in their lonely watery grave. On this stone the chisel has inscribed a record of the catastrophe which left that parent's heart so desolate and for- lorn, but which proved to be in Jehovah's inscru- table wonder-working providence, the crowning mercy of a sin-checkered existence, and the open- ing of the portals of life to a misguided and per- ishing soul. When the humbled man takes his departure the desolations which he helped to create are being repaired, the waste places restored. Already sev- eral of the razed sanctuaries have been rebuilt, and others are rising out of the ruin caused by violent hands. This is the case in the little town 21 324 Romance Without Fiction. which calmly reposes at the foot of the hill upon which the rector's dwelling, embowered in beauti- ful trees, resounded so lately with the joyous laugh and lively song of the fondly cherished daughters so suddenly snatched away, and commanding a full view of the placid bay beneath whose waters, uncofifined and unknelled, they and their fellow- sufferers await the resurrection morn, when " the greedy sea shall yield her dead." Arrangements are going on to rebuild the house of prayer which for five years has been a heap of ruins. Mean- while the word of life is preached, and the worship of God carried on beneath the folds of a canvas tent, supplied by the liberality of Christian friends beyond the sea. This is erected in the adjacent burial-ground, where repose the ashes of two mis- sionary servants of the cross, who finished their labors here during the recent persecutions, which the Divine interposition has now brought to an end. But as yet no arrangements are in progress to restore the missionary dwelling in the town wan- tonly destroyed by fire, a building which ruffianly hands once pierced with volleys of bullets, hoping to destroy the unoffending inmates, and to which other evil hands afterward applied the firebrand, sweeping it quite away. Grass and bushes now cover the site it formerly occupied, and the mis- sionary family make the best they can of a little cottage, neither commodious nor healthy, which has been hired until more suitable provision can be made. And after a while the opportunity Driving Away the Rooks. 325 arrives. "The Cloisters," which is the rector's own private property, is announced to be for sale. The cool and healthy situation it occupies, far above the unwholesome influences which abound below, and render a residence near the sea so unhealthy for Europeans, marks it out as a most desirable location for the mission house. After due deliberation it is resolved to effect the pur- chase. It has to be done quietly and warily, for there is yet enough of the old persecuting spirit left in some quarters to render it probable that opposi- tion will be made to any attempt to have those premises conveyed for missionary uses. But a friend comes forward to transact the business ; the purchase is completed, and the missionary family takes possession of " The Cloisters " as a home. There is one missionary on the committee to which the management of this business has been confided — the writer of these pages — who has marked with wonder and gratitude, and not unfrequently with awe, the hand of the Lord in what has come to pass. As he moves about those grounds at " The Cloisters," he recalls deeds of cruel severity which have been enacted there. Proceeding from room to room, thoughts are awakened in his breast of the unhallowed combi- nations that have been formed and the schemes of evil which have originated beneath that roof. And then, as he looks abroad on the splendid panoramic scene that hill commands, his eye rest- ing first upon the restored sanctuaries beneath, 326 Romance Without Fiction. and then upon the spot where the sea engulfed its prey, and filled with desolation and grief the home of him who had made others desolate, he sees how easy it is for the Ruler of all things to make the devices of opposers and persecutors to be of none effect. But that which impresses his mind above all is the striking manifestation of retributive providence in the fact of his being upon that spot, and for such a purpose, to take possession of that property, and adapt it to missionary uses. This is the residence of the man, and here he had his nest for many years, who, in bitter opposition to those who were doing the Lord's work, suggested the evil counsel, " Get rid of the rooks by destroying their nests." Out of that very door he passed to the meeting where his evil counsel prevailed. By a wondrous series of providential dealings, terribly fraught with judgment, but richly mingled with mercy, a Di- vine hand has humbled the offender, driven him from his own nest, and sent him forth a wretched wanderer. Now God has given the nest to those whom the proud man scornfully denounced as rooks, and who were left shelterless by his means. These despised ones are made to occupy the very apartments where, encouraging only thoughts of evil, he nestled with his young, and from which Jehovah in righteous anger took them to perish before the doting father's eyes. Yes, the Holy and the Just One has acted in righteous retribu- tion in giving to the injured the nest of him who caused them to be cast out of their homes, and Driving Away the Rooks, 327 left without a shelter, by giving the Ahithophel- like counsel, " If you want to get rid of the rooks you must destroy their nests." N. B. — " The Cloisters " has been the residence of the Wesleyan mission family at St. Ann's Bay for nearly thirty years. 328 Romance Without Fiction. XVI. Father and Son. How terrible is passion ! how our reason Falls down before it ! while the tortured frame, Like a ship dash''d by fierce encount'rlng tides, And of her pilot spoiled, drives round and round, The sport of wind and wave. — Barfokd. '^ OTLT was a melancholy termination to a very AHl bad life," was the remark of a friend to me, referring to a paragraph in the columns of one of the Jamaica newspapers which he then held in his hand. This was not long after the time when the apprenticeship system had super- seded in that land the cruel system of bondage which was so rapidly diminishing the slave popu- lation as to threaten the extinction of the op- pressed race in a very few years. The person to whom this remark applied had been a prominent actor in those events which marked the history of the colony at that period, especially those that had reference to the main- tenance of slavery and the persecution of Chris- tian missionaries. And now, in the prime of lusty, vigorous life, like many others who had lifted up unholy hands against the cause of Christ and sought to hinder the spread of his truth, he had suddenly dropped into the grave by a casualty Father and Son. 329 which to those who regarded not the work of the Lord, nor considered the operation of his hands, was only an accident. But to many who knew the man and his history, and remembered how the face of the Lord is against them that do evil, the occurrence wore a different aspect, and was re- garded as one of the instances of providential retribution in which the hand of the Lord had, within a few brief months, swept away from life many of those who had banded together to perse- cute his servants, and to banish religion and Chris- tian instruction from the land. The Hon. Philip B. began life in Jamaica as a journeyman stone-mason, having emigrated from England to find employment, where he hoped to meet with less of competition, and a more lib- eral remuneration of his toil, than in his native land. He was not disappointed. A white man, and a skilled artisan, he soon found employment on the estates of a larg.e proprietor as head mason, with a large slave-gang placed under his direction. In the course of time, partly by looking well after his own interests, and partly by marriage with a lady entitled to property, he became himself the owner of slaves, and a landed proprietor on such a scale as enabled him to mingle with the proud magnates of the country, and take his place in the legislative Assembly. There he was always to be found giving his support to measures of intolerance and oppression, while he gave himself up to the licentious and vicious habits sure to prevail in a country where slavery has its home. 330 Romance Without Fiction. Possessing but a slender portion of ability, he could in public life only follow the leading of others, and was invariably found devoting such influence as he could wield to the side of evil. For some years every act of the Jamaica Legisla- ture that was calculated to increase the burden of oppression under which the toil-worn slave was made to groan, or that was intended to interpose obstacles to the benevolent labors of the Christian missionary, was sustained by his vote. All the seditious movements of the planters, and their threats of renouncing their allegiance to the Brit- ish crown, were warmly seconded by him. He resisted to the last the reasonable and equitable proposal to remove the legal disabilities under which the free colored and black population had always been oppressed and degraded, and refused to yield to those who, notwithstanding their com- plexion, were in numerous instances vastly his su- periors in moral worth and intellectual power and acquirements, equal rights and privileges. He was a member of the legislative committee which, by suppressing and garbling evidence, had sought to fix upon missionaries the charge of instigating the negro insurrection of 1831-2, occasioned, in truth, by the seditious folly and violence of the planters themselves, and destined, in the wise and good providence of God, to give the death-blow to human slavery in the British empire. He was always the weak, willing tool of oppression and intolerance, a man whose public life was truckling and time-serving from the beginning to the end. Father mid Son. 331 He had one son possessing a claim to legitimacy, and of the orthodox European complexion, whom his father destined for the church, with a view to his being ultimately installed in one of the sung rectories of the island, and possibly in a well- endowed archdeaconry to which, backed by his father's influence as a member of the Colonial Legislature, he might not unreasonably aspire. While the son was absent from home receiving his education, his mother died. During her life-time the husband and father had, outwardly at least, paid some regard to the decencies and proprieties of wedded life ; but when the grave closed over her remains, all restraint was cast off, and Mr. B. gave himself up again, as he had done before, to the vicious and demoralizing practices which always accompany slavery. When the son arrived at his old home in holy orders, it was to find a state of things prevailing under his father's roof that gave a rude and painful shock to the more refined and honorable sentiments awakened with- in him during his educational course, amid the elevating and hallowing influences of a Christian land. He shut his eyes, as far as possible, to the faults of his sire, and interfered only with gentle re- monstrances when rude and noisy revels, and the excesses of a brutal intemperance, rendered it im- possible to look on in unbroken silence. These were listened to at first without resentment ; but, on repetition, were spurned as an impertinent in- terference with matters that did not concern him, 332 Romance Without Fiction. and gradually led to angry altercation. Frequent- ly he had to withdraw from his father's table to avoid being associated therewith one, the presence of whom he could not but regard as an insult to the memory of a mother whose virtues and tender love were his most cherished recollections. He hoped that his silent withdrawal from such a pres- ence would be a sufficient protest against the out- rage to propriety it involved, and that it would avail to correct the evil, little apprehensive of the fatal consequences to which it was destined to lead. On one of these occasions, when he rose to leave the untasted morning meal, his father interposed, and commanded him to resume his seat. He begged to be excused, and, with all respect to his father, stated as his reason for wishing to withdraw that it would both compromise his self-respect as a minister of Christ, and dishonor the memory of his virtuous mother, to eat at his father's table with such a companion as he had thought fit to introduce there. Exasperated beyond all self- control by this plain dealing on the part of his son, Mr. B. struck a violent blow at the mouth from whence the reproving words had issued, causing a copious flow of blood ; and followed the young man with bitter curses and reviling as he retired, without a word of reply, to his own room. It was a fatal blow ; not to him who received, but to him who gave it. The father found, after his son left the room, that in his blind fury he had injured his own hand against the teeth of the Father ajtd Son. 333 young man, and that blood was flowing from the wound. As it was merely a scratch, he thought nothing of it. But after a few hours the slight wound began to exhibit an angry appearance, and the inflammation increased and spread up the arm. Medical treatment was resorted to, but it failed to check the progress of the evil. Vicious excesses had corrupted his blood, and all the appliances of science were baffled. Gangrene, mortification, death, came on in rapid succession, and in about three days after the fatal altercation the immortal spirit passed to its unseen and unchanging destiny : and another was added to the long catalogue of those remarkable casualties through which so many of the wrong-doers of those days were swept, in the midst of life and strength, to an early grave by a violent death, giving fearful significance to the impressive record of Holy Writ, " He ordaineth his arrows against the per- secutors." 334 Romance Without Fiction. XVII. The Kidnapped Noble. Thus Bpurn'd, degraded, trampled, and oppress' d. The negro exile langulsh'd in the west, With nothing left of life but bated breath, And not a hope except the hope in death, To fly forever from the Creole strand. And dwell a freeman in his father's land. — Montqomeey. tRUTH is sometimes stranger than fiction. The faithful delineation of real occurrences will sometimes produce a picture which the boldest writer of romance would scarcely venture to indite, if it were the mere creation of his fancy. The legitimate boundaries of truth are sufficiently comprehensive to contain much that is wonderful and apparently improbable. The vicissitudes and sufferings of many a life in the realm of slavedom would rival, in startling incidents and thrilling in- terest, those tales of the imagination which have harrowed the feelings and powerfully stirred up the sensibilities of a multitude of persons, who never knew what it was to drop a tear of sympathy over the real sufferings of fellow-creatures enduring a lot of constant anguish and woe. The following narrative contains nothing of the merely imaginary ; it is a tale of real life. When the writer first arrived in Jamaica, in The Kidnapped Noble. 335 1 83 1, there was in the society at Wesley Chapel, Kingston, then under the pastoral care of the Rev. Peter Duncan, a black man known by the ^name of Edward Donlan. He was a slave be- longing to a builder in large business in the city, whose name was Anderson, and who had the repu- tation of being a kind and indulgent master. Mr. Anderson held a large ownership in the sinews and muscles of men, women, and children. His extensive business required that he should have several large slave-gangs to fill the various de- partments of labor comprehended in the numerous building contracts into which he entered. Ed- ward Donlan, though Anderson's slave, belonged to none of these laboring gangs. He was neither carpenter nor mason, nor was he an artisan of any kind. He occupied the position of a clerk or ac- countant, and kept all the books pertaining to the b'lisiness, which his master, who had risen from a humble position in life, was unable to keep him- self. It was one of those cases in which the slave was in intellectual power and acquirements superior to the man who claimed him as his ''''property." Donlan was for some years united to the Meth- odist Society, and was one of the most steady and consistent members of the class to which he be- longed. Every Sabbath morning at an early hour he might be seen in the chapel, earnestly and humbly listening to the Christian counsels addressed to him by his class-leader. His skin was of the darkest African type — a pure jet. 336 Romance Without Fiction, From his eye gleamed the light of an intellect whose powers had been awakened and developed, as they only can be, by a process of education. But there was always to be perceived about him an air of sadness approaching to melancholy. He was scarcely ever seen to smile, and moved about with a degree of sedateness and gravity that ap- peared to indicate a load of sorrow always resting upon the mind. During religious worship he sat and listened with devout attention, but seemed not to join in the singing ; or, if he did so at all, it was in a very quiet and subdued manner. His sorrowful de- portment, combined with the superior intelligence indicated both in his countenance and conversa- tion, could not fail to arrest the attention of those whose pastoral duty required them, once in every quarter of the year, to speak with him on matters relating to the welfare of his soul, and give him religious counsel and advice. When questioned concerning his former history, he unfolded a tale of painful vicissitudes that sufficiently accounted for the gloom and sadness by which he was gener- ally characterized. Born of parents who occupied an exalted position in his native land, he had fall- en into the hands of the man-stealer : and forcibly borne away from friends and home, he had, after suffering all the horrors of the middle passage, been consigned to the misery and degradation of slavery in a foreign land. The African name of Edward Donlan was Abou Beer Sadiki. He was born in Timbuctoo, and brought up in Geneh. His father's name was The Kidnapped Noble. 337 Kara Mousa, Scheriff j the latter word denoting, " of a noble family." His grandfather lived in the country of Timbuctoo and Geneh, and was the son of Ibrahim, the founder of his race in the country of Geneh. His father had four brothers, named Aderiza, Abdriman, Mahomet, and Abou Beer. After the death of his grandfather, these uncles of his disagreed among themselves and were scattered in different parts of Soudan. Aderiza went to the country of Marsina, where he dwelt for a long time ; after that he removed over the river and dwelt in Geneh, and married a daughter of Maroulhaide Abou Beer. Abdriman went to the country of Cong, and married the daughter of Samer Ali, the lord of that land. Mahomet went to the country of Gonnah, and married the daughter of the king of Gonnah. Abou Beer remained in the country of Timbuctoo. His father, Kara Mousa, frequently traveled to the country of Cassina and Bournoo, where he married. He returned with his wife to Timbuc- too, and there Abou Beer Sadiki was born. Great attention was paid to his education when he was a boy. When he was about two years old, his father thought much about his brothers, and grieved over the family dissensions that had caused their separation ; and he resolved to visit them, and renew the friendly intercourse so pain- fully interrupted. Accompanied by a numerous retinue of servants, the family of Kara Mousa first took their journey to Geneh. From thence they proceeded to Bong, and thence to Gonnah, where 338 Romance Without Fiction. they took up their abode and remained for the purpose of trade. In Gonnah the servants (slaves) gathered a quantity of gold for their master ; for there is a great deal of gold obtained in that country, from the wilderness down to the river- side, also from the rocks. They crush the stones to dust, and put them into a vessel of water, when the gold separates and sinks down, and the dust floats. Then they purify the metal and make it ready for use. During his residence in that coun- try his father collected a large quantity of gold and silver, some of which he sent to his father- in-law, Ali Aga Mahomed Tassere, in the country of Bournoo and Cassina. He also sent, as a pres- ent, horses, mules, and rich silks, obtained from Egypt. While they were residing in Gonnah, his father caught the bad fever and died, and was buried there. All this took place while he, Abou Beer Sadiki, was a young child ; and these particulars concerning his family he obtained from his uncles. After his father's death he returned to Timbuctoo. He acquired the knowledge of the Alcoran in Gonnah, where there were many teachers for young people. The names of the several masters from whom he received instruction were Abondonlaki, a son of Ali Ago ; Mahomed Wadiwahoo ; Ma- homed Ali Mustapha; Ibrahim son of Yussuf, a native ; and Ibrahim son of Abon Nassau from Footatoroo. These were all under the direction of a head master, the son of Ali Aga Mahomed Tuffosere. It was thus he had received an educa- The Kid) lapped Noble. 339 tion such as only the members of noble families could aspire to, and which was intended to pre- pare him to take his place among the highest class of people in his own country. Instead of that he had been violently torn away from his home and sunk into the miserable condition of a slave, subject absolutely to the will of another, and not able to call his time or his body or his soul his own. About five years after the death of his father, he felt a strong desire to go to Gonnah and visit his father's grave. His teacher, who had himself and several other youths in charge, not only gave his consent, but volunteered to accompany him on the journey to Gonnah, and also to take with him other scholars, all of whom belonged to noble families, to bear them company. After much fatigue they arrived at Cong, and from thence went on to Gonnah, "where," he said, "we stopped two years, as we considered the place a home, and we had a good deal of property there." About two years after their arrival in Gonnah the teacher had occasion to take fi journey to Agi, leaving all his pupils in the care of Abou Beer Sadiki's uncle at Gonnah. Very shortly after his departure, a war unexpectedly broke out between Abdengara, the king of Buntuco, and the king of Gonnah. The latter monarch being worsted in the conflict, Abdengara's army, after great slaughter, took possession of the capital or chief town of Gonnah. Some of the inhabitants 22 340 Romance Without Fiction. of the captured town fled, and endeavored to make their escape to Cong; but they failed in the attempt, and were captured by the victorious party. Among the unfortunate ones was Abou Beer Sadiki, with several of his fellow-students. The prisoners were treated Avith great harshness by their conquerors. Abou Beer Sadiki was stripped, and firmly tied with a cord to prevent his escape ; and then, with a heavy load which he was compelled to carry, was marched with others of his fellow-captives into the country of Buntuco. From thence, with many unhappy ones like him- self, he was taken to Cumasi, where the king of Ashanti reigned. Subsequently he was conducted first to Assicuma, thence to Agimaca, which is the country of the Fantees, and from thence to the town of Dago, by the seaside. All the way, in these long journeys, he had to travel on foot, bearing a heavy burden on his head, and a still heavier one on his heart : for it was a very great sorrow to him thus to be torn away from his own country, and from all his beloved kindred and friends. At Dago he was " sold to the Christians ! " What a sad dishonor to Christianity that men bearing this sacred designation should touch a traffic founded in robbery and murder and com- prehending within itself all kinds of crime and wickedness ! Yet so it was. " Sold to the Chris- tians," to be degraded, plundered, flogged, and worked into the grave, has been the sad fate of untold millions of Africa's children ! Poor Tlie Kidnapped Noble. 341 broken-hearted Abou was purchased on the coast by the captain of one of the slave-ships, and deliv- ered over to the care of the sailors, Avith others who shared his wretchedness. The boat immediately pushed off, and he was soon on board one of those floating hells over which for so many years waved the ensign of Britain, protecting the most horrible wickedness ever perpetrated on this sin-stained globe. The slave-ship ! Think of a vessel built for quick sailing, and without the slightest reference to the comfort of the poor creatures she is to re- ceive as cargo ! Then think of six or seven hun- dred human beings huddled together, without any regard to the distinction of sexes, and so closely stowed that there is no possibility of their lying down or changing their position night or day. They are carried in this way a voyage of two or three months' duration, their only relief being the death of, perhaps, a fourth of the cargo, the removal of their dead bodies — cruelly and foully murdered — thus affording to the survivors a little more room to move their cramped and wasted limbs. It was into one of these horrible receptacles of stolen human cargo that this youth — for he had not yet ripened into manhood — born of the no- blest in the land, was received. It is not at all sur- prising that one who became acquainted with the sufferer and his history after he had spent thirty years in wretched slavery, and who took a lively interest in measures to obtain his freedom from bondage, and get him returned to his own native 342 Romance Without Fiction. Africa, should express himself in such language a« the following : " Without going into any discussion of an anti- slavery description, by what name under heaven that is compatible with moderation, that is musical to ears polite, must that system be called which sanctioned the stealing away of a person like this, as much a nobleman in his own country as any titled chief is in ours, and in his way, without dis- paragement to the English noble, as suitably edu- cated for his rank ? Fancy one of the scions of our nobility, a son of our war-chiefs — Lord Lon- donderry for example — educated at Oxford, and, in the course of his subsequent travels, unfortu- nately falling into the hands of African robbers, and being carried into bondage. Fancy the poor youth marched in the common slave-coffle to the first market-place on the coast. He is exposed for sale. Nobody inquires whether he is a patri- cian or a plebeian ; nobody cares whether he is ig- norant or enlightened : it is enough that he has thews and sinews for a life of labor without re- ward. Follow him to the slave-ship. He survives the passage, and has seen the fifth part of his com- rades perish on the voyage. He is landed on some distant island, where he is doomed to hope- less, interminable slavery. The brutal scramble for the slaves has ceased ; he is dragged away by his new master, but not before he is branded with a heated iron, which may only sear his flesh, while the iron brand of slavery — the burning thought of endless bondage — enters into his soul." The Kidnapped Noble. 343 After three months of inconceivable wretched- ness at sea, the vessel to which Abou Beer had been consigned arrived at Kingston, Jamaica, where the horrible traffic in human beings was still flourishing. It fell to the lot of the poor youth Abou to become the slave of Mr. Anderson, the builder, who never treated him with harshness or cruelty. But his soul was always bowed down to the earth with the sense of unutterable degra- dation and wrong — wrong to which he could see no termination in this life. There was no pros- pect before him but of incessant misery and suf- fering and unrequited toil, until death should bring the only relief that appeared to be possible. In his intercourse with his fellow-slaves Edward Donlan — for such was the name that had been bestowed upon him by his owner — discovered that some of those with whom he was associated de- rived great comfort, in their sorrowful and de- graded condition, from attending upon the ordi- nances of religion at the Methodist chapel. Hearing them sing the hymns they learned there, and speak of the grand truths proclaimed by the ministers, first induced him to go and hear for himself the preaching of which others were so fre- quently talking in his presence. He had learned the English language sufficiently to enable him to understand what he heard from the pulpit better than many others, and he did not hear in vain. His mind and heart were brought ui^er the in- fluence of Gospel truth to some extent, and he united himself with the Church, enjoying a com- ■ .) / 344 Romance Without Fiction. fortable hope of rest and life in the better world to come. But he never came so much under the power of religion as entirely to overcome the sorrow in- duced by the great and terrible change that had come upon him, and banish the fondly cherished recollections of his native land, and the kindred and friends from whom he had been so cruelly severed. He was very punctual in attending re- ligious ordinances whenever his enslaved condition permitted him to do so, and he always entered devoutly and intelligently into the services of the sanctuary, but he was the reverse of demonstrative in all things that pertained to religion. It was only when he was questioned by his class-leader or minister that he spoke of his religious views and feelings. Then he would dwell upon the great comfort which religion brought to his wounded spirit, and tell how he was looking to heaven as the rest from toil and trouble which God hath prepared for them that love him. Speaking once in sorrowful accents of his unhappy lot as a slave, he said, " I have none to thank but those that brought me here. But praise be to God, who has every thing in his power to do as he thinks good, and no man can remove whatever burden he chooses to put on us. Nothing shall fall on us except what he shall ordain. He is our Lord, and let all that believe in him put their trust in him." . On another occasion, speaking of his parents and kindred, and referring to the Mussulman The Kidnapped Noble. 345 belief and practice, he said, " They do not drink wine nor spirits, as it is held an abomination so to do. They do not associate with any that worship idols or profane the Lord's name, or do dishonor to their parents, or commit murder, or bear false witness, or who are covetous, proud, or boastful. They were particularly careful in the education of their children, and in their behavior. But I am lost to all these advantages. Since my bondage I am become corrupt, and I beg Almighty God to lead me into the path that is proper for me, for he alone knows the secrets of my heart, and what I am in need of." Soon after he came into Mr. Anderson's posses- sion it was discovered that he was not the dull, ignorant being that many of his companions in bondage were. At first he was put to perform any menial duties in which his services happened to be required about the premises of his master; but accident brought to light the fact that the young African was very skillful in the use of the pen, and clever in all questions of figures, solving difiicult arithmetical problems with great facility. He was observed to be frequently engaged in writing, but it was in characters that none about him could understand. When he had learned to speak the language of the country he had been brought to, and could enter into conversation with those about him, although he volunteered no information, yet, in answer to inquiries addressed to him, it be- came known that he had been a person of some consideration in his own country, and had been 346 Romance Without Fiction. favored with educational advantages of a superior kind. The master into whose hands he had fallen was a rising man in the country. His business, small at first, was assuming greatly enlarged proportions. Unable himself, having been favored with slender advantages of education in his early days, to do much in the way of book-keeping, he soon began to avail himself of the superior knowledge and ability possessed by his slave, Edward Donlan, and the management of all the books and accounts pertaining to the business gradually fell into his hands. Although he understood the English lan- guage, and could speak it correctly, he could not so readily write it ; but being perfectly famil- iar with Arabic, and able to write it in beautiful style, he adopted the plan of keeping all his mas- ter's books and accounts in that language. For many years the slave knew far more of the details of the business than the master himself. The books were sometimes exhibited to strangers as a curiosity, and many marveled at their beauty, re- garding with pitying eyes the dark, sorrowful- looking man who was capable of such handiwork. When the accounts had to be sent out to parties indebted to the firm, it was an easy matter for the slave-clerk, with the assistance of an amanuensis, to turn the Arabic into English. Thus, for thirty years, the large growing business went on, perfect confidence existing between the master and his slave. For all this faithful and valuable service what TJie Kidnapped Noble. 347 did the young African noble receive in the way of remuneration ? Just what was given to those who had no ability for any thing but to wield the hoe — a poor comfortless shelter in the negro quarters, a suit or two of coarse garments in the year, and a bare supply of the commonest kind of food ; in fact, the wages of a horse, just what was abso- lutely necessary to sustain life, and keep him up to the duty that his master's interests required at his hands. True, Mr. Anderson did not superadd to all this, as many slaveholders did, the frequent application of the scourge and the gyves, and the interposition of his authority to keep his slave from obtaining religious instruction, and hinder his praying and breathing his sorrows to the throne of God. Nor did he do this with any of his slaves. Therefore Mr. Anderson enjoyed the reputation of being a kind and indulgent slave- master. For thirty long years poor kidnapped Abou Beer Sadiki cherished fond remembrances of the sunny home from which he had been stolen, and nursed his sorrow in secret. Few can understand how dense was the darkness resting upon that wounded spirit through all this protracted period — darkness somewhat lessened by the blessed hopes inspired by the Gospel that he heard at the Methodist chapel, where it was his chief delight to attend. At length the time came when a new and cheer- ing light began to fall across the path that lay be- fore him. The Christian philanthropy of Britain had risen in its irresistible might to assail the 348 Romance Without Fiction. stronghold of the oppressors, and the cruel system that plundered and wasted nearly a million of hu- man beings, under the sanction of British law, was tottering to its fall. Whispers about freedom, the utterance of which had hitherto been regarded and dealt with as a capital crime, began to circu- late freely, and soon there was rejoicing through all the land when it could no longer be concealed that the day of redemption was drawing nigh, and that the time had been fixed by the Government at home when liberty should be proclaimed throughout the land, and slavery, after a few years of probationary servitude, should be finally done away. To Abou Beer these glad tidings of great joy to multitudes appeared to bring but a small degree of gladness, for hope had almost died within him. His spirit, bruised and crushed beneath the weight of woe that had been pressing upon it for thirty years, seemed to have lost every thing like elas- ticity, and to be incapable of rising from its pros- tration. He remained quiet, passive, and gloomy, as he had been before, amid the preparations for the great event of emancipation which gladdened so many hearts around him. But the Lord, in his gracious providence, was raising up for him an active and powerful friend. Among other arrangements considered needful for the proper carrying out of the important act for the abolition of colonial slavery was the ap- pointment of stipendiary magistrates, to be sent out from England, by whom the new law should The Kidnapped Noble. 349 be chiefly administered. A considerable number of gentlemen were selected for this purpose, whose position in life, character, and education marked them out as suitable for the important trust that was to be confided to them. It would occupy too much space, and scarcely be in accordance with the design of this paper, to tell how many of these excellent and noble-minded men were worried out of life, or compelled to quit their office in disgust, by the vile conspiracies of the slaveholding fac- tion. Facilities for annoying and worrying the stipendiary magistrates were designedly afforded to evil-minded men by the pro-slavery colonial Legislature in framing and passing the local abo- lition act. They were compelled to pass the law to abolish slavery, or forfeit all claim to a share of the compensation money. But in doing it they studied to render the position of the new magis- trates as difficult and disagreeable as possible, and interposed as many obstacles as they could to im- pede the new magistrates in the performance of their duty. Some of these men who gave noble promise of usefulness soon died, worn out by per- plexity, disappointment, and trouble, leaving fam- ilies to mourn their loss. Others, unable to en- dure the unceasing worry and opposition, and the vulgar insolence to which they were exposed, soon relinquished their appointments, and re- turned home in chagrin and disgust. Among the latter was Dr. Madden, the accom- plished author of a book of " Travels in the East," who had accepted the appointment in the hope of 350 Romance Without Fiction. being useful to a suffering class of his fellow-men. Dr. Madden was a gentleman and a scholar, a man of talent and research, who had traveled ex- tensively both in Europe and in the East. As the most important of all these magisterial appoint- ments in Jamaica, Dr. Madden had been selected by the governor, because of his distinguished abili- ties and acquirements, to be the stipendiary mag- istrate at Kingston, the commercial capital of the colony. But he found the position one of great difficulty, and was exposed to so much insult and opposition, which the law gave him no power to hold in check, that; after filling the office one year, he resigned it and returned to England, to the regret of all who were concerned in seeing justice done to the long-oppressed race. After his return from Jamaica Dr. Madden published a series of letters, written during his residence there, in two v'olumes, entitled " Twelve Months' Residence in the West Indies." The letters are written in a lively and attractive style, and give varied infor- mation concerning the West Indies, particularly of Jamaica and his connection with that island. The publication, now out of print, possesses value, as showing the condition of things and the state of public feeling in Jamaica when the memorable Emancipation Act began to take effect.* It was during Dr. Madden's administration in Kingston that Mr. Anderson presented himself at the office of the special magistrate, accompanied by Edward Donlan, for the purpose of having his * See note at the end of this chapter. The Kidnapped Noble. 351 slave sworn as a constable on his master's proper- ty, in accordance with the new law that was about to substitute the apprenticeship of the negroes in the stead of slavery. Dr. Madden, being himself an Oriental scholar, was surprised to see this grave-looking negro, in whose external appear- ance there was little to distinguish him from many others who came on a similar errand, ex- cept an unusual sobriety and an air of intelligence not common to them, signing his name in well- written Arabic, not as Edward Donlan, the name given by the master, but "Abou Beer Sadiki." The interest he took in all Oriental matters, and the unusual circumstance of one in Donlan's con- dition being acquainted with Arabic, and able to write it in very superior style, induced the magis- trate to enter into conversation with him, and question him concerning his former history. His intelligent replies satisfied Dr. Madden that he had before him a case of more than ordinary in- terest, but he could not there, upon the bench, and surrounded by a busy, bustling crowd, enter so fully into the matter as he resolved to do at the earliest opportunity. The following day Donlan, at the request of Dr. Madden, attended upon him at his own house, and gave him all the particulars of his former life as recorded substantially in the preceding pages. Afterward he gave him his history, written in Ara- bic, a translation of which, by Dr. Madden, was subsequently published in several of the island newspapers. The doctor, who had conceived a 352 Romance Without Fiction, great friendship for the kidnapped Donlan, said concerning him, " He became a frequent visitor at my house in his master's leisure time. I found the geographical part of his story quite correct, and I soon discovered that his attainments as an Arabic scholar were the least of his merits. I found him a person of excellent conduct, of great discernment and discretion. I think if I wanted advice on any important matter, in which it re- quired extreme prudence and a high sense of moral rectitude to qualify the possessor to give counsel, I would as soon have recourse to the ad- vice of this poor negro as any person I know." Among the provisions of the law changing the state of the slaves to that of apprentices for a term of years, there was an arrangement which gave the apprentices a right, on a fair valuation, of buying out the unexpired term of their bondage. It was an objectionable part of this arrangement that it was not left to the special magistrates, but local planters and merchant magistrates were to be called in to assist in the appraisement. This was a cause of endless trouble and difficulty, for, open as they were to all sorts of local influence, and able to interpose the most unreasonable obstacles, it was very seldom that these cases could be brought to a fair and equitable settlement. Moreover the arrangement was such as to make all the excel- lences of character and conduct belonging to the apprentice work for his disadvantage. A worth- less slave or apprentice could get his liberty on comparatively easy terms ; but the good and faith- The Kidnapped Noble. 353 ful found that their excellent qualities were made by a crude and unjust law the chief barriers to their freedom. The better the slave the more valuable he became to his employer, and the larger the sum required for his liberty. Dr. Madden became so interested in his slave friend Donlan that he resolved to effect his im- mediate freedom, and assist him to return to the home from which he had been so wrongfully torn away. But this difficulty stared him in the face. He knew that Donlan 's services were invaluable to his owner, and expected that a very high valua- tion would be put upon the unexpired term of his servitude, thus making the very qualities that fitted him for freedom the chief obstacles to his gaining it. But he thought it likely that when the circumstances of Donlan's case came to be publicly known many kind-hearted persons would respond to the appeal which he determined to make on the slave's behalf, and come forward with subscriptions to assist him in the accomplishment of his benevolent purpose. Some endeavored to discourage him by reminding him how invaluable the slave's services were to Mr. Anderson, and that it was scarcely possible that he could for any amount of remuneration speedily obtain a clerk to fill Donlan's place in the counting-house as effi- ciently as he filled it. All this would have to be considered in the appraisement. Others told him that some years before an attempt had been made to purchase Donlan's freedom without success. The Duke of Montebello when he visited Jamaica 354 Romance Without Fiction, had chanced to become acquainted with Mr. An- derson's slave-clerk and his history, and would have paid a large price for his liberty. But no price he could offer would induce the owner to give up his "property." And although the duke endeavored to avail himself of the powerful influ- ence of the Colonial Office, to his great chagrin and disappointment he failed to accomplish his benevolent design of restoring the kidnapped one to his friends and home. The grasp of the slave- holder on his stolen property could not be unloosed. All this was disheartening ; but Dr. Madden was not a man to be easily turned from any pur- pose on which he had set his heart. The slave- holder might be greedy, and have influence to succeed in getting a heavy price put upon the lib- erty of his bondman. But that was all. He could not now, as in the case of the Duke of Montebello, absolutely refuse to let him go on any terms. The hard grip of the owner upon the unfortunate slave was so far relaxed by force of law that a golden key could now set him free whether the master was willing or not. After a few weeks' delay Dr. Mad- den, with some misgivings as to the reception he should meet, but determined in his purpose, presented himself at the residence of Mr. Ander- son. He frankly stated what his views and inten- tions were with regard to Donlan, and expressed his desire to negotiate with the master a private bargain for the slave's release. It is to the credit of Mr. Anderson, as it was The Kidnapped Noble. 355 very much to the satisfaction of his visitor, that he would not aggravate the injury of having held Edward Donlan in slavery through about thirty years of unrequited toil by the further wrong of exacting a large sum to let him now go free. When the doctor expressed his wish to negotiate for Donlan's release, that he might return to his own country, the owner said, " You need say no more on the subject, sir. The man is valuable to me ; his services are worth more to me than those of negroes for whom I gave three hundred pounds. But the man has been a good servant to me — a faithful and a good negro — and I will take no money for him ; I will give him his liberty." Dr. Madden pressed him to name any reasonable sum for his release, but he persisted in refusing to receive anything in the way of indemnity for Donlan's services. I do not wish to detract in any degree from the generosity of this act of Mr. Anderson, which was greatly lauded at the time, and by Dr. Madden himself as a singular act of liberality. Multi- tudes of slave-owners in that gentleman's position would have stood out resolutely for the utmost value of Donlan's services to him, as an appren- ticed laborer, for the several years during which the law bound him to his master. And Mr. An- derson kindly abandoned his claim and exacted nothing ! But this fact has to be viewed in the light of another, by which its generosity appears to be somewhat diminished. From the time that Donlan was kidnapped from his home and brought 23 356 Romance Without Fiction, a fettered slave to Jamaica, Mr, Anderson, know- ing well that he was buying stolen property for a sum of money not very large, as he bought him untried and unseasoned from the slave-ship, exer- cised the force of a wicked and oppressive law to make Donlan his slave, and compel him, without any choice of his own, for thirty years to employ all his energies of mind and body for his (Ander- son's) benefit without wages or reward. For three decades of human life he had without scruple plundered the poor negro of his liberty, time, and labor, and all that is dear to man ; and he now abstained from further plundering him of a consid- erable amount of money that he might be suffered to go free from his service and enjoy the liberty which is the natural and inalienable right of every man. Many of Mr. Anderson's compeers would have acted otherwise. It was a kind and degree of liberality quite unusual with them. But I con- fess I am not sharp-sighted enough to discover much of real generosity in the act. It seems to me to be on a par with the generosity of the high- way plunderer, who robs his victim of all he has about him, but abstaiifs from the further injury of depriving him of his life. The day following that on which Dr, Madden had the interview with Donlan's owner was ap- pointed for completing the act of manumission at the public office of the special magistrate. It had become known in the city that *' Mr, Anderson's finely-educated slave, who had kept his books so Well in Arabic," was about to be emancipated, The Kidnapped Noble. 357 and a large number of persons of different classes and complexions assembled to witness the cere- mony. The scene was one of great interest. On the bench were Dr. Madden and another magis- trate. Beside the bench stood the negro, of ex- alted rank in his own country, in the act of re- ceiving his liberty after being so many years sub- jected to the evils of slave-life. Near him was a venerable and pleasant-looking man, with the snows of sixty years scattered upon his head, pre- pared to do an act of tardy justice to one who, through half the term of his own life, had been faithfully serving him with his might. The papers, which had been carefully prepared under Dr. Mad- den's own inspection, were produced. After a a brief address from the bench on the interesting case which had called them together, Mr. Ander- son stepped forward and affixed his signature to the important documents, and Abou Beer Sadiki, amid the plaudits of the deeply interested specta- tors, stood forth a free man to receive the hearty congratulations of many who had long been ac- quainted with the excellent character and abilities of Mr. Anderson's negro clerk. On the next day a full account of these pro- ceedings was published in the daily newspapers, together with a translation of the history of him- self which the liberated slave had written in Ara- bic. Accompanying these there also appeared a short, forcible appeal from Dr. Madden to the liberality of the Kingston public, setting forth the excellent character of Donlan, and inviting 3S8 Romance Without Fiction. assistance on his behalf. In a few days he had the satisfaction of placing twenty pounds in the hands of his negro friend, the fruit of this appeal. The good doctor did what the master should have done who had derived such large profit from the services of the slave. "When thou sendest him out free from thee thou shalt not let him go away empty." The kindness of the benevolent magistrate did not end here. Through his interposition means were obtained for sending back the much-wronged man to the home he had through all his suffering career been yearning after with intense desire. After bidding a loving farewell to his Christian friends and associates, he took his departure from the land of his bondage. After some months had elapsed we hear of his safe arrival at Sierra Leone, and of the love and gratitude he cherished for those who had befriended him during his slave-life in Jamaica. It was stated that he had experienced abundant kindness in that British colony on his native shores which he had reached on his homeward route, and he trusted in the Lord to direct his course, and bring him safely to the end of his toilsome journey. He spoke also of being about to set off into the interior of the continent on his way to Timbuctoo. That was the last we heard of Edward Donlan, or Abou Beer Sadiki. Whether he reached his home in safety, and never found an opportunity of communication with his former friends, or perished by disease or enemies by the way ; or whether he fell again into The Kidnapped Noble. 359 the hands of lurking men-stealers, and was borne away across the sea to some slave-land — Cuba, Porto Rico, or Brazil — there to languish out the miserable remnant of a strangely checkered life, in more cruel bondage than that from which he was redeemed, we cannot tell. Probably we shall never know what became of the lovable liberated negro until that great day when all secrets shall be revealed. Note. — One of Dr. Madden's letters concerning Jamaica was written in rhyme, a sort of parody on one of the produc- tions of Lord Byron. It was addressed to Dr. William Beat- tie, and we produce it, as showing how Jamaica appeared in Dr. Madden's eyes in 1834. " My dear Sir, " I beg leave to ask you. Know you the land where pimentos and chills Are emblems of tempers as hot as the clime. Where the blaze of the sun quite darkens the lilies. And bleaches the roses of youth in their prime ? Know you the land of mosquitoes and jiggers, Of Sambos unchain'd, and uncombable niggers ; Where the innocent cockroach exhales a perfume But a little less fragrant than ' Gul in her bloom ; ' Where the breath of the sea-breeze comes over the sense Like the blast from the mouth of some furnace intense ; Where oysters, like cabbages, grow upon trees, And cows* even browse in the depths of the seas ; Where the hue of the cheek, from the sallow Mestee To the yellow Mulatto, though varied it be. In beauty may vie with the tint sweetly tann'd Of a Venus from China just newly japann'd ; * The monati, or sen-cow. 360 Romance Without Fiction. Where the climate is hot, and the nights may be cool, But the fevers are rife, and the grave-yards are full ; Where tlie butter is soft and as melting in June As the hearts of the languishing maidens Quadroon ; Where caloric abounds both in water and wine, ' And all save the spirit of rum is divine.' Where the cocoa and yam are the choicest of fruit, And the voice of the grasshopper never is mute ; Where the land-crab in highest perfection is seen, And the fat of the turtle is the brightest of green ; Where the mutton, too often manufactured from goats, Is killed the same day it is thrust down our throats ; Where the man who is thirsty may drink sangaree, Till his liver is spoil'd, as at home he'd drink tea ; Where no one of character, be who he may. Can ever eat less than two breakfasts a day ; And no man of courage but laughs at the thought Of his stomach presuming to cavil at aught ; Where the coup dc soleil is a true coup de grace ; And the fever call'd yellow's a knocker of brass On the door of the tomb, where one enters to-day. And to-morrow, forgotten, is left to decay ; Where the freedom of trade is a thing that's gone by And the dear name of Guinea recalls but a sigh ; Where liberty flourish'd, and every man white Might once lick his nigger from morning till night; But now where the Newcastle doctrine's unknown. And no man can do as he likes with his own ; Where Buxton the wretch, and Macaulay the sinner. Are duly reviled every day after dinner ; Where ' the saints' by the bushas are curs'd most devoutly, And the Whigs by the planters are i-ated as stoutly ; Where a paper the amplest encouragement claims Which calls its opponent the vilest of names ; Where lips have no language sufficiently ill To lavish on Mulgrave for passing the bill; Where loyalty waits on each governor landing, But has not a leg at departure for standing ; The Kidnapped Noble. 361 Where the extraction of sugar doth clearly explain Why the blacks are considered descendants of Cain ; In a word, where in all things both buckras and blacks Are by fits and by starts either rigid or lax ; And in faith, as in politics, never it seems, Are content if their notions are not in extremes ? 'Tis the clime of the West ! 'Tis the island of palms ! 'Tis the region of strife and the country of psalms ! 'Tis the land of the sun, all whose fierceness prevails O'er the gravest discussions and the simplest details ! *Tis the home of our hopes for the African race ! 'Tis the tomb of the system that brought us disgrace ! And wild are the words of its mourners, who rave, And would roll back the stone that is placed on its grave." 362 Romance Without Fiction. XVIII. Pursuit of Knowledge Under Difficulties. Is there one whom difficulties dishearten — who bends to the storm? He will do little. Is there one who will conquer? That kind of man never fails. — John Huntek. See first that the design is wise and just ; That ascertained, pursue it resolutely, Do not for one repulse forego the purpose That you resolve to effect. _ir^\URING the troubled times which followed ^^ the reign of terror in Jamaica called martial law, in 183 1-2, and before the abolition of slavery by which it was shortly followed, the exigencies of the mission required my removal from the north side of Jamaica to a station on the south side ; where the missionary had been dis- qualified by sickness, and compelled to remove to a more genial locality. It was a time of fierce persecution, and the fiery trials through which we had been called to pass had greatly endeared pastors and people to each other as sufferers in common, so that the time of parting was to both fraught with deep regret. While I was occupied in packing my books for the journey, a gentle knock upon the door of my study announced a visitor. When told to "come in," the door slowly opened, and a negro woman of Pursuit of Knowledge under Difficulties. 363 middle age timidly advanced. In her I recognized one who was well known in the society at that place as a person of deep and earnest piety. She was a slave belonging to a family that cared little about religion, and who did not scruple to throw many hinderances in her way with regard to attend- ance upon religious ordinances. They designedly arranged her duties so as to keep their dependent fully occupied, and leave her only very few and brief opportunities of attending to the religious duties she loved so well. But the fervent, unob- trusive piety of the humble slave-woman, and the clear, intelligent statements of Christian experience she gave at her class-meeting, and in the love-feasts of the society, had caused her to be well known in the Church she belonged to, and the meek and quiet spirit she exhibited on all occasions, and her successful efforts to win souls to Christ, had pro- cured for her in more than an ordinary degree the respect of all who were acquainted with her. Betsey Taylor was the name she bore. Her features were plain and coarse, exhibiting much of the true African type, but were rendered al- most beautiful with the radiancy of the settled peace and love that ruled the heart within. There was the stamp of heaven upon that coal- black face. Within a few months past the missionaries in that locality had been consigned to a loathsome prison for preaching the Gospel, or assailed with brutal violence, and their lives placed in jeopardy. Some of the sanctuaries of God had been shut up 364 Romance Without Fiction. by magisterial intolerance, and others pulled down or burned to ashes by planter mobs. And in these seasons of sore trial none were more prompt to sympathize with the persecuted pastors than Bet- sey Taylor, or more ready to tender such expres- sions of regard as could be conveyed by offerings of fruit, etc., to the ministers who had been God's instruments in bringing her to the enjoyment of religion, which was to her more precious than ru- bies, and greater gain than fine gold. When I lifted my eyes to the opening door to greet my visitor it was Betsey's pleasant, homely face that I saw beaming upon me. " Good morn- ing, Betsey," I said as she entered the study. "Good morning, minister," she replied. "Me come to ask one favor, and hope minister will not think me too bold." Betsey had so far profited by her position as servant in an opulent white family that she spoke less broken English than most of those who were in similar circumstances around her. " It will af- ford me pleasure, Betsey," I replied, " to render you any service in my power. What is it you wish me to do for you ? " " I very sorry that minister is going away, and I shall be very glad if minister before he go will give me one book that minister use himself I shall keep it always for 'member minister." " I should like to give you something as a keepsake, Betsey, but I do not think a book would be the best and most useful thing, for, unless I am under a mistake, you could not make any use of it, as you have never learned Pursuit of Knowledge under Difficulties. 365 to read." "True, minister; but, please God, I in- tend for learn to read, and if minister will give me one book, minister will see, when he come back this way, that I able for read him." I inquired of her how she was going to learn to read, and from what quarter she hoped to obtain help in her undertaking. In answer to my in- quiries, I gathered from her that she had no time to go to the Sunday-school, nor would the family that owned her permit her to do so. It was very seldom she could get time to attend the chapel services, and she was often prevented from going to her class. Nor had she any hope that any per- son in the family that held her in bondage would afford her the slightest assistance, as, in accord- ance with old-time prejudices, they did not ap- prove of slaves being taught to read. I was curi- ous to find out what means of instruction she ex- pected to avail herself of, but could only get the information that " if minister would give her the book she would learn for read it." Although she mentioned no particular book, I could perceive that Betsey's desires pointed to one of the books used in the chapel services ; either the hymn-book or the Bible, beyond which she had probably no idea concerning books at all. She seemed to think it very desirable to be able to use her book when she went to the house of God, and comfort herself with its truths in her own humble room. I had on hand a quarto Bible which I could spare for the purpose. Reaching the precious 366 Romance Without Fiction. volume from my book-shelves, I said, " Here, Betsey, is the book of books, God's own word, which he has given to make us wise unto salva- tion in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, and as you tell me you are deter- mined to learn to read it, I shall have great pleas- ure in making you a present of it. I trust it will be a great comfort and help to you all the days of your life." " O minister," she said, as tears of gratitude rolled down her sable cheeks, " I so thankful. I never forget minister, and never for- get to ask Massa Jesus to bless minister as long as me live." I handed her the book, which she re- ceived with a deep courtesy, and as she left the room I heard her exclaim with emotion, as she hugged her treasure to her bosom, " Me rich for true." Two or three years had elapsed before a long and wasting illness, produced by the poisonous malaria of St. Thomas-in-the-East, caused me to revisit that part of the island for a change, hoping that, amid the beautiful scenes, the remembrance of which was fondly cherished, and the kind at- tention of loving friends, I should recruit the physical energies which repeated and lengthened attacks of fever had woefully impaired. During the time I had been away from that part of the island great and important changes had occurred, changes which the most sanguine scarcely imag- ined could have taken place so soon. The sys- tem of human slavery which seemed to be so firmly established, that many years must elapse Pursu it of Knowledge under Difficulties. 367 before it could be uprooted, had been swept away by the voice of an indignant nation. Liberty had been proclaimed through all the land, and Brit- ain's bondmen had passed into that intermediate state of apprenticeship which was to precede their absolute freedom — the happy result of the san- guinary proceedings and vindictive persecutions I had witnessed when I was in the same neighbor- hood before. One of my earliest visitors, after landing from the schooner which conveyed me round the west end of the island, was Betsey Taylor, who came laden with oranges, grapes, and a variety of other fruits, as a grateful offering to her afflicted minis- ter, and a face glowing with pleasure that she was once more permitted to look upon him again. In the same tray that contained the fruits, nicely covered up with a snowy napkin, there was Bet- sey's cherished Bible, which she had brought for the purpose of showing minister that she had ful- filled her promise of learning to read. She evi- dently expected that I should request her to give auricular demonstration of her newly acquired accomplishment. And I was myself curious to ascertain what progress she had made in learning, amid the difficulties and discouragements that surrounded her in her enslaved condition. " Well, Betsey," said I, " it affords me the great- est satisfaction to know that you have been able to accomplish your purpose in learning to read. I confess I hardly expected that, situated as you were, you would be able to carry out your design, 368 Romance Without Fiction. and I shall be glad to hear you read a chapter in your Bible, that I may judge how far you have succeeded." " I thought minister would like for hear," she replied, "and so I brought the book." Betsey having fixed upon her nose a pair of spec- tacles with large round glasses not remarkable for their elegance, she proceeded to read, under my direction, several of the psalms, and chapters from various books of the New Testament. This she did with a fluency and correct pronunciation, and an evident appreciation of the meaning of what she read, that excited my astonishment, and' from which I concluded that she must have obtained the help of some kind instructor, who had taken great pains with her. " I am really very much rejoiced, Betsey, to find that you can read so well. You must have obtained help that you did not expect; I should like to know who has been your teacher." "0 plenty people help me, minister;" and then she proceeded to enlighten me concern- ing her course of study in her own simple style, by a relation which afforded me equal surprise and pleasure. Her time, it appeared, had been no more at her own disposal after I went away than it had been before. She had never been able to go to Sun- day-school, and none in the house of her bondage would afford her the slightest aid, but rather scoffed at the desire she expressed to learn to read her Bible. Nor could she find any time, so entirely was she occupied in her unrequited serv- itude, to go to those who would cheerfully have Pursuit of Knowledge under Difficulties. 369 given her the instruction she desired. But " where there is a will there is a way," and Betsey was bent upon finding it. And she did find it. Bet- sey had set her heart on gaining the ability to read God's own word for herself. What had been done by others might be done by her, and she was determined to try and try until she had accomplished her purpose. By the energy of a determined will she overcame all obstacles, and triumphed where a multitude would have been baffled and given up in despair. First of all, after getting the Bible, she went with the first coin she could call her own to a store where, among all kinds of merchandise, they sold books for children, and requested to be sup- plied with a book " for learn for read.-' She was first offered a spelling-book, but she had not suffi- cient money to purchase that, for the price was a "maccaroni," (a shilling,) and she had only "one fi'penny," a coin that amounted to threepence in English money. The fi'penny was ultimately in- vested in a small primer, which she was told was the proper book for a beginner to learn to read, and the seller kindly pointed out to Betsey where she was to commence. Happy in its possession, Betsey departed with her new treasure, and at once on her way home commenced the process of study she intended to pursue. She could of her- self make nothing of the strange-looking things called letters, which she was told must first be learned. Fixing her regard upon the first of the lot, she cast her eyes around, and discovering 370 Romance Without Fiction. some person in the street that she thought could give her the desired information, she went up to him, and, dropping a respectful courtesy, pointed to the capital letter A, and said, " Please, massa, tell me what dat 'tan' for ? " Having received the information she sought, she pondered it well until the letter became quite familiar to her eye, and she was sure she would know it again wher- ever she met with it. She then proceeded to the next, and mastered that in a similar way. And so Betsey went on, always placing the book in her bosom whenever she went out into the streets, and appealing to any one she met who was likely to aid her with, " Please, massa, what dat 'tan' for ? " The alphabet, both large and small, was soon mastered, and then Betsey went on to the more formidable task of putting the letters together in words, laying the public under contribution in this as she had done before, and seldom meeting with a rebuff. Shrewd and intelligent, and anx- ious to learn, she soon began to understand the power of the letters, and in a much shorter time than many took to gain this elementary knowledge who were favored with the advantages of efficient instruction, but not so much in earnest to learn as Betsey, she surmounted the difficulty, and be- gan to spell out chapters in her treasured Bible. Thus it was that when I returned to the neigh- borhood, after the lapse of somewhat less than three years, Betsey could read her Bible with perfect fluency, and found it to be a source of Pursuit of Knowledge under Difficulties. 371 inexpressible comfort and profit. She also showed me her hymn-book, which she rejoiced in being able to use, and assured me that these two books were her daily study and her greatest earthly joy. She had been able also to read several other books which kind friends had lent to her, by which she had been greatly aided and strength- ened in her Christian life. At the termination of the apprenticeship system Betsey obtained her entire freedom, and was soon in more comfortable and prosperous circumstances than she had ever been before. Her superior in- telligence and devoted, active piety commended her to the notice of the pastors of the Church as a suitable person to fill the office of class-leader. She was accordingly appointed, and was very use- ful in bringing many young persons of her own sex to Christ, and helping them in their Chris- tian course. In this capacity she was greatly respected by all who knew her, both white and black. Several times, when on distant stations, a small basket came to me containing jars of preserved fruit and pickles, but without any note to indicate whence they came, and for some years I knew not to whom I was indebted for these anonymous favors. But having to travel to the north side of the island, where Betsey resided, for the pur- pose of taking part in the opening services of a new chapel, the grateful negro woman came to see me, and then I discovered, from several questions she put concerning them, that these 24 372 Romance Without Fiction. gifts had been forwarded by her, in token of the fervent gratitude she cherished toward the donor of the precious volume, which had been her greatest earthly treasure, and on which she based the hopes of life and immortality that filled her with unspeakable joy. Blighted Lives. 373 XIX. Blighted Lives. Beware the bowl I Though rich and bright Its rubles flash upon the sight, An adder colls its depth beneath, Whose lure is woe, whose sting is death. — Stkeet. j^i^^T'ITHIN the tropics the danger of forming intemperate habits is greater than in a milder clime. There is a more rapid exhaustion of the fluids in the system by in- creased perspiration, requiring a more frequent supply to meet the demands of nature, and if re- course be had to beverages of the alcoholic kind, it requires but little sagacity to see that danger is hidden there. It is also the natural effect of a tropical climate to produce a degree of lassitude, of which the denizens of cooler regions are un- conscious, except occasionally, when the fierce heat of a midsummer day brings them a tem- porary experience of those relaxing influences which are constantly felt, in a greater or less de- gree, within the torrid zone. One of the effects of alcoholic drink is to counteract the lassitude for a brief season, and produce a considerable degree of artificial excitement and energy, which, for the time, is exceedingly grateful. But the effect is temporary and soon passes away, followed 374 Romance Without Fiction. by a reaction which augments the physical relax- ation natural to the climate, and seems to call for a renewal of the grateful restorative. Here also danger lurks unseen and unsuspected, and it is one of the easiest things possible to glide insensi- bly into the practice of using dangerous stimu- lants, and a habit is formed not easy to be shaken off, until all the faculties of man's noble nature are ensnared, bound as with fetters of iron, and the poor victim finds himself helpless in the grasp of a fiend, who seldom relaxes his hold till the destruction of both body and soul is accom- plished. Here lies the greatest danger of Europeans within the tropics. That poisonous influences, destructive of health and life, proceeding from the rapid decomposition both of vegetable and animal matter, often load the air, especially in the less favored localities, is true ; but the death of vast numbers in tropical countries has been ascribed to the effect of the climate, that was in fact the result of using stimulants, which shortened life in various ways, even when there were none of the ordinary calamitous results of habitual drunkenness. The man whcse business carries him to torrid regions will be wise to use no stimulants of the alcoholic kind — the Christian missionary above all. Min- gling with many cheering scenes of holiness and usefulness, which a review of nearly forty years spent in bright glowing regions of tropical beauty present to him, the writer's memory dwells upon others of different character — dark, cheerless, Blighted Lives. 375 mournful — examples of ruined greatness, blighted piety, and blasted life, which often bring a shadow over his spirit, and constrain him to admonish every youthful missionary, and every young man whose providential course leads him to the ardent regions of the tropics, to stand entirely aloof from all danger, from all possibility of being ensnared by the demon of intemperance, by a total disuse of alcoholic beverages. " O, minister ! Mrs. P. begs you to come over, for Mr. P. has had a fit." Such was the message brought by an intelligent colored girl, one Wednes- day afternoon, as a young missionary sat at dinner between four and five o'clock, in one of the most pleasant towns on the north side of Jamaica, where he exercised his pastoral charge surrounded by the grand scenery which, all along the northern coast, distinguishes that beautiful isle of the western sea. Among those who have been gathered into the little growing church under the missionary's care is an intelligent female, black but comely, of polite and graceful manner, and as much entitled to be spoken of as a lady as many of fairer hue to whom that honorable designation is properly applied. She was the wife of a white man who has come from a distant island to fill a Government situation in the town. His office gives him a respectable status in society and a comfortable degree of emolument. The time has come when com- plexional prejudices are so far modified that the marriage of a white man with a colored woman is 3/6 Romance Without Fiction. no longer the strange and anomalous occurrence that at one time it was, unfitting him for holding a public office, and shutting him out from the more aristocratic circles of colonial society. Not a few of the most influential men in the land have set public opinion at defiance in this respect, and married the mothers of their colored families, giv- ing their children, who in many instances have re- ceived a liberal and refined education, those ad- vantages of legitimacy which a wise provision in the new marriage law enables them to secure on their behalf. This, however, has not been a mar- riage of that class ; for both were young, and they are without a family. It has been a marriage formed on moral grounds. Brought to God through the fearful scenes which she witnessed in connection with the desolating hurricane of 1831, and experiencing the blessedness and the power of the spiritual life, the black girl's companionship was not to be obtained according to the immoral customs which prevailed in the colonies before re- ligion stepped in to rescue, refine, and elevate degraded womanhood. The white Government official proffered honorable marriage to the dark- skinned object of his affections. And the marriage was a happy one for a while, and would have con- tinued so had not Mr. P. unhappily been seduced into the deadly drink snare, and contracted the sad habit which ruins multitudes for both worlds, and brings desolation, poverty, and woe into thousands of families. Mr. P. respected religion, and, with his wife, Blighted Lives. 377 attended its public ordinances frequently ; but not being gifted with the firmness that steadily resists temptation, he was easily prevailed upon by associates, with whom he was unavoidably brought into contact in the course of his official duties, to share their indulgences, which fre- quently were not confined within the limits of moderation. The progress of destructive vice is much more rapid in some cases than in others. Slowly, and by almost imperceptible degrees, some men glide into the habit which finally overcomes them, and lays a giant grasp upon all their faculties ; while others sink swiftly into ruin, and are mastered almost without an effort to resist the evil which is enslaving to destroy them. So it is with Mr. P. He rushed rapidly to destruction, giving himself up without restraint to a course of indulgence which could only have one swift and fatal result. When the missionary who has been referred to first made their acquaintance, he ascertained that it was about two years since Mr. P. had given him- self up to the habit of excess ; and already he had become a confirmed inebriate, with whom intoxica- tion is the usual condition. He is seldom to be found entirely sober, though he manages to get through his official duties so as to avoid incurring rebuke from his superiors in office. His excellent wife, who is truly attached to him, has wept and prayed and persuaded. Whenever she could, she has prevailed on him to accompany her to the house of prayer ; and there have been times when 378 Romance Without Fiction. he has felt the power of the world. Friends and ministers, who could see his danger, have ventured *^o advise with him. But all remonstrance, all effort to arrest him in his path of ruin, has been vain. The appetite for stimulants has grown to an absorbing passion. His countenance has darkened to almost a livid hue ; and he might be met with at almost all hours of the day in a state of maudlin inebriety, large drops of perspiration upon his face, a pitiable example of tho effects of intemper- ate indulgence. It is not, therefore, a matter of surprise when the message is received, " Mrs. P. begs you to come over, for Mr. P. has had a fit." Accompanied by a brother missionary, who happens to be with him on a visit from a distant part of the island, the young pastor, without a moment's loss of time, responds to the request, and is shortly standing by the bedside of the suf- ferer. That missionary, in his brief career, has witnessed scenes sad and terrible; for he has seen the gallows day after day bearing its dreadful fruit, and the bullet and the scourge doing their revolt- ing work ; humanity and justice alike trampled down, and men boasting of a white skin and a liberal education reveling like demons in cruelty and bloodshed during " the hell-like saturnalia of martial law." But never has he beheld a scene so shocking to all his sensibilities as that which is now spread before his gaze. For several days Mr. P. has been more indisposed than usual, and to day he has been too unwell to go to his office ; but all the time, at short intervals, he has been greedily Blighted Lives. 379 swallowing potent draughts of brandy and water, and could not be prevailed upon to take any thing else, and about four o'clock he suddenly fell pros- trate upon the floor of his bedroom. The unhappy wife at first supposes it to be the ordinary effect of having taken a large quantity of spirit during the day. With all convenient speed he is lifted into bed ; but the wretched man is in a state of insen- sibility ; and the twitching of the features, the convulsive jerking of the limbs, the changing countenance, and the trembling of the whole frame, denote that more is the matter than the effects of simple intoxication. This becomes still more evident when, arousing a little from the tem- porary unconsciousness into which he has fallen, he sends forth shrieks and cries of agony ; and crouching in mortal fear, now on one side of the bed and then on the other, and trembling with horror till the bedstead shakes and trembles too, he tells those who crowd around him that the room is full of devils who are come to carry him away. It is now the terrified Avife sends off to request that the minister will be kind enough to come to her immediately, and the message reaches him in the form already described. It is a fearful spectacle upon which his atten- tion is fixed. Shriek after shriek reaches his ear as with his companion he ascends the stairs. On en- tering the room they see the miserable victim of alcohol stretched upon the bed, held down by sev- eral persons whom the poor wife has been com- pelled to summon to her aid. The countenance 380 Romance Without Fiction. is livid — almost pux'ple ; the eyes, glaring hideous- ly, seem ready to start from their sockets ; inex- pressible horror is stamped upon every feature ; and large drops of perspiration, oozing out from every pore, bear witness to the terrible excitement that is raging within and must soon exhaust the vi- tal energies, for no human strength can long endure such a degree of tension. " O, Mr. B. !" cries the sufferer with startling energy the moment he catches sight of the missionaries entering the chamber, and turning toward them with an expression of agoniz- ing entreaty, " do save ! O, do save me ! There they are ! Don't you see them .'' O, do save me from them! Do save me! " It is a pitiable scene to look upon, that man laid prostrate by the destroyer in the prime and vigor of lusty, youthful manhood — for he could scarcely be more than thirty-two years of age, and was built on a powerful model — and raging in the paroxysm of the most aggravated type of delirium tremens ! In the softest tones of sympathizing friendship both ministers endeavor to soothe the sufferer, and represent to him that the objects of his fear have no reality, and are but the creatures of a disturbed imagination. But it is all in vain. To him there is awful reality in them. His eyes roll in terror to every part of the room as he shrinks, first in one direction and then in another, from the fearful objects which that abused brain invests with shape, and substance, and life, and which no other eye beholds. The blood of those present seems to curdle and their flesh to creep as with terrible earnestness he Blighted Lives. 381 rejects all remonstrance, and in pitiable agony im- plores them to save him. Both the missionaries successively engage in prayer, holding each a shiv- ering hand as they kneel at the bedside, and he clings to them as a drowning man will cling in his extremity to any substance he can lay his hands upon; but he evidently takes in nothing of the meaning of those words which are addressed to the throne of mercy on his behalf. His eyes, straining with affright, are rolling wildly, now to the right, now to the left ; now up, and now straight be'"ore him. Shrinking as though he would push himself through the mattress, all his faculties are occupied in following about the room the crea- tures of his disordered fancy. And O ! it is a hard thing to pray at a death scene like that ! We may not place any limits to the boundless love and mercy to sinners of the infinitely gracious God ; but what hope can there be that prayer will be heard, that mercy can be exercised, in a case like that .? It is, however, our duty to pray ; and earnest and importunate, and attended by many tears, are the supplications that go up from that death cham- ber ; and hearty is the amen that now and again drops from the lips of those who kneel around as the missionaries plead with the Friend of sinners for the dying man. Dying he is, and the vail is already dropping that is to shut out from him all the scenes of this life forever. He has been some- what less violent since the ministers of religion appeared at his bedside, and his cries for help 382 Romance Without Fiction. have been less agonizing; but there is no indica- tion that he has for a single moment realized the idea which has been presented to and urged upon him of looking to the Almighty Saviour for help. His shattered faculties are incapable of such exer- tion as would enable him now, at this last hour, to turn to the Crucified, and lay his sins at the foot- stool of mercy. The imagination, dominant over all the other faculties, is reveling in horrors. It has peopled the death chamber with specters and goblins and horrible shapes from another world ; and as these appear to him to flit about and grin and mock his misery, and threaten to fall upon him and bear him away, he can think of nothing else. Soothing remonstrance, entreaty, prayer, all are lost upon him ; and the awful words of in- spired truth come with irresistible force upon the minds of some who look upon that thrilling spec- tacle : " The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we are not saved." It is almost impossible to avoid the conviction that this is the case with that poor ruined, wretched victim of a vicious habit, whose spirit, without one ray of hope dawning upon it, is trembling upon the confines of another world. A terrible scene is the chamber of the dying, when there is no peace of God to sustain, no hope of eternal life to bless and cheer the soul that is passing to an unchanging destiny. Two or three hours have elapsed since the min- isters of religion entered the room, and the hour is at hand when the public service of the sanctua- ry requires their presence. But it is difficult to Blighted Lives. 383 gel away. " Don't go ! don't leave me ! " shrieks the dying man ; and he clings to them with the energy of despair. They remind him that it is the usual evening for public service, and promise to return immediately after its close, but he holds on with all the tenacity of which his fast-failing strength is capable. Again they kneel down for a few moments, and commend the sufferer to God in prayer and depart, purposing to shorten the service, and hasten back to do what they can to alleviate the horrors of the scene they have unwillingly quitted. Knowing that patients of that class do sometimes rally, from a condition of great apparent extremity, they have no apprehension that the end is so near as the event shows it to be. The service occupies but an hour, and without losing a mo- ment, as soon as it is ended they hasten to the house of mourning. But the curtain has fallen, and the tragedy is closed. They are surprised, startled, shocked, as they enter the house, to re- ceive the intelligence that the spirit, with all its dread accountability attaching to it, has just that moment fled to the presence of its Maker. They enter the room, and a senseless heap of clay is all that remains of the man they left there so lately. The trembling of the limbs has ceased ; the straining eyeballs have shrunk back into their sockets, and the lids are closed over them ; the livid, purple features of the countenance, lately so fearfully agitated, have settled in the stillness of death, and a friend is tying a white cambric handkerchief round the head to support the fallen 384 Romance Without Fiction. jaw. From the moment the ministers left the room, the loud shrieks of the sufferer recom- menced, and pointing here and there, all round the room, to the frightful creatures of his imagi- nation, he crouched from one side of the bed to the other, and would have thrown himself off it had he not been forcibly held down. In agony- most distressing to behold he continued to call upon those around him to save him from them, until his strength became exhausted. At length, convulsed and shaking in every part of his body, he sank into a state of comparative quietude, gasping, and his eyes staring and rolling about the room, until a short time before the ministers re- turned to the house, when all the powers of life suddenly collapsed, the spirit passed to its desti- ny, and the life so sadly abused — such a woeful mistake — came to an end. There was one, at least, of those who looked upon that mournful scene who turned away from it realizing, as he had never done before, the awfulness of a life blasted by intemperance, and resolving that his example and influence through life should be given to dis- countenance the use of those fluids which often prove to be a deadly snare, and produce results so fatal to the happiness and well-being of man. Three years have passed away and the young pastor has been transferred to a new and distant scene of labor, still within the shores of "the land of springs," and surrounded with the stirring, busy life of a large city. It is the peaceful Sabbath aft- ernoon, when a message reaches him in his study Blighted Lives. 38$ that brings before his mind a vivid recollection of the painfully interesting incidents related above. " Mrs. L. will be greatly obliged if you will go and see Mr. L., who has had a fit, and is very ill." Such was the message ; so similar in its import to the one received by him a few years ago, which had left an impression burned, as it were, into his memory by the shocking scenes of which it was the precursor. Like a series of dissolving views, all the sad incidents of that evening rise and pass with terrible distinctness before his mind ; for he can scarcely doubt, from his knowledge of the person concerned, that it is another case of the same mournful character to which his attention is now to be directed. But ah ! this is even more sad, in one of its aspects, than the other, for this is the wreck of a pious life, a blighted career of Christian useful- ness, the shocking example of a minister of relig- ion fallen, dishonored, destroyed by the vice of intemperance. Like the noble forest tree that has been stricken by lightning, divested of every sign of life and verdure, blackened, shattered, and charred, a majestic ruin of what once was beauti- ful to look upon, now a mournful spectacle to contemplate ; here is one who was a tree of right- eousness, planted in the courts of the Lord's house, verdant, fruitful, full of promise for the future, and lovely to the eye that looked upon it ; but it has been blasted by intemperance, and it has been standing for some years in its blackened deformity, a monitory example of human frailty, 386 Romance Without Fiction. until the time has come for the great Master to say, " Cut it down ! " Some twelve or thirteen years ago Mr. L. came, with another fellow-laborer, to take part in the work of spreading Christian truth among the wronged and suffering children of Africa in this slave land, and build up the Churches which, through God's blessing, had been raised here under the fostering care of one of the missionary institutions of the mother country. He was young, but he had been brought to God in his youth, and gave evidence of more than ordinary devotedness to the Master whose service he had chosen. After the usual preparation and examinations, he was sent to share the labors and persecutions of breth- ren in these isles of the west, where oppression and intolerance had made their home. Entering upon the sphere of toil assigned to him, he gave himself up to his work with untiring zeal, and won for himself in a high degree the love of the peo- ple, and the respect and confidence of his fellow- laborers. But his sphere of labor lay in a district of the inland where exhalations from wide-spread- ing swamps and lagoons impregnate the atmos- phere with the subtle poison, which infects the blood, and sends it rushing through the system with accelerated force and fever heat, drying up the springs of life, and often sending its victims with startling rapidity to the grave. Not many months had elapsed when the overpowering sense of weariness, the racking headache and throbbing of the temples, with heavy pain across the loins, Blighted Lives. 387 indicated too surely that the fever had laid its blighting grasp upon him, and that the seasoning was at hand. Through all the torturing processes of bleeding, blistering, salivation, 'and physicking to which fever patien's were in those days sub- jected by blundering medical practitioners — often more surely cutting short the days of the sufferer than the disease itself — the young missionary writhed and tossed and groaned until the fever had run its course. Assisted by a vigorous and wiry constitution, and not depressed by the fears and anxieties which often give fatal potency to the fell disorder, he struggled through it, and woke up one fine morning, after the crisis had been followed by several hours of the balmy, re- freshing sleep, to which he had long been a stranger, free from the fever, but feeble and help- less as an infant. Sustained through the collapse by powerful stimulants, nature slowly resumed her operations; the relaxed muscles and nerves re- covered somewhat of their usual tension, and the patient was restored from the margin of the grave. Hitherto he had always stood aloof from the use of those stimulating beverages so lavishly used among the dominant class in the colony. But the smiling disciple of ^sculapius, who had tended him through all the fierce attack, as he took his departure, turning over his patient to the nurses and the cooks, laid it down, with all the authority which professionals of his class are too often unwisely permitted to assume, that he 25 588 Romance Without Fiction. must take a glass or two of good wine every day, and that he must also drink a little brandy and water instead of the lemonade and other beverages of that innocent class he had previously been ac- customed to use. Multitudes of these medical practitioners have themselves been the victims of the delusion that ardent spirits are essential to life in a tropical climate, and the writer has seen not a few of them — young men of good skill and prom- ise, and desirous of doing right — swept to an early grave by means of the alcoholic poison, victims themselves of ill-judged advice, while they have, by similar evil counsel, backed with the influence of professional authority, helped to multiply the deluded victims of intemperance. " What the doctor says must be right ;" and the young mis- sionary, willing to be directed by the teachings of experience in those matters in which he could not rely upon his own judgment to guide him, con- sented to act upon the instructions given to him. The temperance movement was not yet direct- ing men's minds to the wide-spreading evils re- sulting from the use of alcoholic beverages, and the dangers that lie hidden in what are regarded as the proper and innocent customs of society, and giving salutary warnings, illustrated by thou- sands of impressive examples, of the insidious character of such counsel as that given by the doctor to his restored patient. It would have been well for him had it been so, for he might then have been on his guard, and mistrusted the pernicious advice. But with unsuspecting confi- Blighted Lives. 389 dence he adopted the practice so strongly recom- mended, and it proved to be a first step in the road to ruin. In many cases the evil appetite for strong drink increases rapidly as it is ministered to, and the dangerous habit becomes in time a master passion. One of the early results in this young minister of acting on the dangerous counsel given to him was to slacken his zeal for useful- ness, the next to darken and beguile his judg- ment, leading him to form a marriage without due consideration, and with one who possessed few or none of those qualifications which might make her a help-meet for him in the great work to which he had solemnly devoted his life. Then, greatly lowered in the estimation of his fellow-laborers, and falling more and more under the terrible in- fluences which were fast enslaving him, his vows forgotten, and his responsibilities lost sight of, his work was thrown up, his pastoral charge resigned, and he ceased to belong to the missionary band who, for the advancement of their noble enter- prise, were contending with combinations of fierce intolerance and persecution, and suffering, in some instances, even imprisonment and death. Through several years the debasing habit, which had vitiated his character and wrecked his piety, was continued, and gradually acquired all the strength of a ruling passion, under the dominance of which he sank into deeper degradation, until he became an object of scorn to many and of pity to others, who knew and respected him in the days when his character and life were pure and spotless, 390 Romance Without Fiction. and devoted with untiring zeal to the work of doing good to others. Friends endeavored, by kindly remonstrance and counsel, to save him from the snare of the evil one. But it is no easy matter for one who is sunk so low in his own esteem, and in the estimation of others, to recover him- self. In the present instance it was the case of one tied and bound, by the power of an evil habit and a vicious appetite, as with fetters of brass. On all the earth there is not a being more help- less and more degraded than the self-made slave of intemperance. It is sound jiractical wisdom, as it is the exercise of the truest benevolence, which, in the United States, has led to the establishment of institutions or asylums where intemperance is dealt with as a species of mania, and a system ot treatment is pursued toward multitudes, sensible of their own helplessness, and voluntarily submit- ting to it, or placed under it by kind and loving friends, which is most effectual in checking them in the downward road to ruin. But no benevo- lent institution of this class is to be found here, and the course of death is pursued to the end. And the end has now come. With a vivid re- membrance of the former sad case, the young missionary feels that there is no time to be lost ; and accompanying the messenger to the house she has come from, he soon finds himself in the pres- ence of the sufferer, who, as in the former instance, has been suddenly smitten down with that fell disease, delirium tremens. This is in some respects different from the for- Blighted Lives. 391 mer case. Entering the large sitting-room, which is called the hall, the wretched man is seen lying upon a mattress placed upon the floor in the center of the room, all the doors and windows being wide open, to give him as much air as possible. A cool, delicious sea-breeze is sweeping through the room. Several friends are around the bed ; and the wife and another person are sitting, one on either side, applying cloths dipped in vinegar to the head of the patient, and bathing his forehead and temples with Eau-de-Cologne. The wretched victim lies on his back, speechless, and apparently unconscious ; but he is in strong convulsions, trembling violently from head to foot ; the features twitching ; the eyes prominent, wide open and staring, but fixed in such a way as to indicate that they perceive nothing ; and the whole countenance bearing such an expression of horror and anguish that it is frightful to look upon. It forces upon the mind thoughts of those who are lost and abandoned to despair, and it makes that young missionary's soul shrink and tremble within him as he looks upon it and thinks of the past. The account which he gathers from the anxious wife is, that Mr. L. had not been well for some days, though able to get about ; and he could take no food. He swallowed nothing but the poisonous stimulants which had done so much to destroy him. He had risen later than usual that morning, and was preparing to go to public worship, when he suddenly dropped upon the floor in strong convulsions. The doctor had been sent for, and 392 Romance Without Fiction. had prescribed blisters, and such other remedies as he thought proper. They had brought him out of the bedroom into the hall, by the doctor's order ; but the convulsions had continued without abatement, and Mr. L. had never spoken a word since the attack came on ; nor had he given the slightest indication that he was conscious of any thing taking place around, but had continued in the state in which the minister then beheld him. No language can describe the feelings with which he stands and looks upon that fearful spectacle. In silence he contemplates the horror-stricken face, the quivering limbs, the panting frame, the glaring eye-balls fixed upon vacancy, and he thinks of what that dying man once was when, in the prime of youthful piety, he devoted himself to work for God. He thinks of what he might have been in the Church on earth, and when joined to the shin- ing host of the Church above, if he had not un- happily turned aside from the path of rectitude and peace. He thinks of what he had become as he lies there, a miserable moral wreck, cast down, polluted, destroyed by strong drink. And he thinks — no, he dares not pursue the train of thought, and dwell upon the awful future in con- nection with the ruin stretched beneath his eye ; for it does not belong to him to look into the future, and speculate upon the destiny of that immortal being. Is not that spirit, though be- guiled, corrupted, misled by treacherous influences, in the hands and at the disposal of one whose love Blighted Lives. 393 and mercy are boundless. And who can say how- far that yearning love may stretch out a gracious hand to pluck the priceless gem of a blood-bought spirit from irremediable ruin and woe ? Who but the Omniscient One knows what gracious thoughts and feelings, awakened by himself, were asso- ciated with the desire and intention to repair to the sanctuary which was so fearfully interrupted ? And who can say whether there is not, in that con- vulsed and shaking frame, though apparently un- conscious of things around, and incapable of com- munication with this lower world, a spirit moved by gracious impulses to look with penitence and prayer to the infinite mercy of Him who, when the weight of a world's guilt and woe was pressing on his own soul on the cross, was even then stretching out the hand of power and love to snatch the soul of a dying malefactor from the bitter pains of eternal death ? Resolving to hope against hope, and looking to and relying upon the unlimited goodness and grace of the sinner's Friend, the missionary endeavors to arrest the sufferer's atten- tion as he kneels upon the bed by his side. The effort is vain. No sign indicates that he hears a word of what is addressed to him. But the Saviour's ears are not heavy that he cannot hear ; his arm is not shortened that he cannot save ; and to him appeal is made, and earnest are the prayers which go up to him from the bedside of the dying man. Late in the evening, and later in the night, the visit is repeated ; and prayer is again made to the Divine Helper to bless and 394 Romance Without Fiction. save the departing sinner. Still there is no appar- ent change in the condition of the sufferer; the trembling of the limbs, the staring of the eyes on vacant space, the expression of anguish and terror upon the countenance, continue. But the end is nigh; another day is not to dawn and behold him among the living. After midnight the convulsions increase in violence ; and before any streak of light appears upon the eastern horizon, after a dreadful paroxysm, the quivering body settles into quietude, the jaw drops, and life ebbs away. Friendly hands close the ghastly eyes ; and the spirit, with all its dread accountability, is with God. Standing over the grave prematurely open to re- ceive the blighted form before it had reached the prime of lusty manhood, the young missionary, whose duty it is to read the solemn service over the dead, ponders in his own heart those counsels of heavenly wisdom to which the scene before him seems to give terrible point and energy: "Be not high-minded, but fear." "Let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall." Happy Deaths. 395 XX. Happy Deaths. When faith is strong' and conscience clear, And words of peace the spirit cheer, And visioned glories half appear, "Tis triumph, then, to die. — Mks. Barbauld. FORMER paper contained sketches of " blighted lives," the melancholy results of intemperate habits, by which so many are ensnared and ruined. In the same missionary's experience there are memories of scenes and in- cidents which present a delightful contrast with the sad histories there described — death-bed scenes which impressively illustrate the beauty of Christian holiness and the power of Divine grace, and show how " The chamber where the good man meets his fate Is privileged beyond the common walks of virtuous life, Quite on the verge of heaven." As the reverse of those darkly shaded pictures that have been presented, two others are selected from a multitude of cases witnessed by him in the Caribbean Isles, exhibiting the gladdening spectacle of the Christian triumphing over death, and shedding a flood of beauteous light upon the 39^ Romance Without Fiction. record of inspired truth : " Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright : for the end of that man is peace." *' I have come to tell you, minister, that Father Harris is sick. I have been to see him, and I think he will soon be going home. He told me he would be glad to see minister." Such were the words addressed to the missionary already spoken of by one of the most devoted and intelli- gent females among the three hundred class-leaders who, in the city of Kingston, looked to him as the pastor in charge of the several societies. Some six years have elapsed since, in that city, he stood and wept and prayed over the death-bed of the second victim of delirium tremens^ three of which have been spent among the magnificent mountains of St. Ann's Parish, where the perfection of rural beauty prevails in this region of perennial summer from January to December. But, in the arrange- ments of Divine Providence, he has been appointed to a second term of service in the more arduous and wasting duties of the city, and few days pass in which he is not called upon to kneel at the bed- side of the sick or dying, and these are not un- frequently scenes of glorious victory over death. Such is likely to be the case with the one to which he is now summoned ; for Father Harris is the oldest member of the Methodist Churches in Jamaica, the only surviving member of the first class formed in Kingston by Dr. Coke, nearly sixty years ago ; during all which time he has walked with God, like Enoch, commanding the veneration Happy DeatJis. 397 of some, and the respect of all who knew hhn, as a pattern of Christian simplicity, integrity, and zeal. When Dr. Coke, after preaching once or twice, and provoking the hostility of a godless multitude against himself, as a minister of the truth, an- nounced his intention to form into a society those who desired to flee from the wrath to come, Will- iam Harris was the second to step forward and present himself as a candidate for admission. A few simple questions elicited the information he wished to obtain, and Dr. Coke enrolled Mr. Har- ris as one of eight who constituted the earliest Methodist society and the germ of the goodly Methodist Churches which have grown up and flourished in the face of abundant persecution in " the land of springs." He is a black man, born of slave parents in the United States ; who, hav- ing adhered to the British side during the Revolu- tionary War, obtained his freedom, and at the close of the struggle emigrated to Jamaica, preferring to live under the protection of the British flag. He had been a member of the Baptist colored Church in America, and had been so far brought under religious influence as to cherish a sincere desire to live a godly life. But here in Jamaica he found no Christian friends to confer with, no Christian teachers that could give him counsel. It is true, the colony had been divided into par- ishes, and there were men who derived emolu- ment from them as a state-paid clergy ; but they were all slaveholders, who had accepted the 398 Romance Without Fiction. sacred ofifice for its salary, and who looked upon those guilty of being born with a dark complexion as no part of their charge, and would just as soon have thought of giving pastoral attention to their own carriage-horses as to the slaves or free black and colored people around them. It was a land covered with darkness and sin. When, therefore, William Harris heard that a minister of religion had arrived and was to preach in High Holborn- street, he was one of the first to repair to the ap- pointed spot. With joy he listened to the messen- ger of heaven. His whole soul was melted and stirred within him by the plain, earnest appeals of the preacher. Here was what he wanted above all things on earth ; one who could tell him about salvation and heaven. For years he had been longing and praying for this, and now God had heard and answered his prayers. When, there- fore, Dr. Coke invited those to confer with him who were willing to be united together in Chris- tian fellowship, the black American emigrant was the second to respond and present himself for ac- ceptance, the first being a white lady, a Mrs. Smith. Like William Harris, she had been for years looking and longing for that light to reach Jamaica which, she knew, was spreading in the favored land she had left some years before, where she had listened to the Wesleys and other men of God he, in his wisdom and love, called forth to wake up a slumbering Church and world. Nearly all the different shades of color were represented in that little band of eight persons Happy Deaths. 399 whom the missionary doctor enrolled as the first Methodist Church in Jamaica : Mrs. Smith, a white matron; William Harris, a black emigrant; Catherine Dawson, a free mulatto woman ; with representatives of the quadroon and Mestee classes — types of those multitudes of all classes and col- ors who were afterward to be won from the world and given to Christ. Made wise unto salvation, and rejoicing in the experience and privileges of the children of God, several of these advanced rapidly in the spiritual life, and on a subsequent visit of Dr. Coke to the island, Mrs. Smith and William Harris were appointed as class-leaders, to give religious counsel to the multiplying inquirers after the things of God — the first who held that office in the Methodist Churches of Jamaica. After some years of loving toil for Christ, carried on in the face of much persecution and reproach, Mrs. Smith, a true mother in Israel — a fine exam- ple of the devoted Christian lady — finished a life of brilliant usefulness by a death of holy triumph, and passed within the vail to await there, in the presence of Jesus, the crown and the reward to be given her when wondrous grace, undying joy, and endless triumph and glory will be brought to the saints at the revelation of Jesus Christ, while her mantle rested upon others of kindred spirit. But William Harris lived on, and for five and fifty years performed, with untiring zeal and with great intelligence and success, the duties of a class- leader. Hundreds have been assisted and en- couraged by his wise and judicious counsels to 400 Romance Without Fiction. come to Christ ; and he has exhibited the power and beauty of religion in a perfectly blameless life, and by the meek, quiet activities of self-deny- ing zeal and love, which seem even now to crown his head, white with the snows of ninety years and upward, with a halo of glory. The missionary's steps are speedily bent toward one of the eastern streets of the city, where he knows — for he has often been there before — the lowly, comfortable cottage of William Harris to be situated in a pleasant and quiet locality. He enters a house neatly furnished and scrupulously clean, where a tasteful arrangement of sundry glass and china ornaments, and specimens of na- tive skill and natural curiosities, exhibit traces of womanly care and refinement. A daughter of the good old patriarch, no longer in the bloom of youth, advances to meet him as he appears at the open door, and after a few words of respectful sal- utation, ushers him into the room where the vet- eran soldier of the cross is about to lay down hi? weapons and pass away to the better land, saying like the conquering apostle, " I have fought the good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith." The room is furnished with some taste and a due regard to comfort, the bedstead and most of the principal articles being made of the superior mahogany which the country produces. There, stretched upon sheets as white as the driv- en snow, and surrounded by comforts which many loving hearts are anxious to provide for him, lies the patient. " I am happy to see you, minister," Happy Deaths. 401 he says, lifting his hand withered by age, and now- weakened by disease, to take that of his visitor ; " I am going home ; my work is done, and Jesus is taking me to himself." It is even so. A cold taken a few days ago has resulted in fever, and there is little ground to hope that the frame now weakened and reduced by age can resist and overcome the shock. He feels a conviction that the sickness is unto death, and that he will never leave the bed on which he lies until friendly hands shall bear him to his last resting-place in the dust. The missionary enters into conversation with him, and the goodness and love of Jesus to him as a sinner, the preciousness of Jesus to him in this time of sickness, and the joys and glories of the home he is approaching, are the topics on which he delights to dwell, the dark ashy countenance, paled by sickness, seeming to light up with more than earthly joy as with feeble voice and broken utterances he refers to them. As the missionary looks upon that dying old man so happy and triumphant, now that death and eternity are close at hand, his mind goes back to a widely different scene, and he thinks of the rav- ing maniac — the miserable, hopeless victim of de- lirium tremens — to behold whose death scene he was summoned in another part of the island, and he feels how true it is, " Happy is the man that findeth wisdom, and the man that getteth under- standing .... Length of days is in her right hand ; and in her left hand riches and honor .... She 402 Romance Without Fiction. shall give to thine head an ornament of grace : a crown of glory shall she deliver to thee." There was the white man, the wretched victim of a debasing habit, sinking (ah ! with what terrible reluctance) to the grave ; his life curtailed, his energies blighted, his opportunities wasted, and his soul, there is every reason to fear, utterly ruined and lost. Here is a despised, dark-skinned child of Africa, who has wisely chosen in early life the better part and kept himself from the paths of the destroyer; and now, after a long life given to God's service, a career of useful toil which has conferred eternal benefit upon hundreds of im- mortal spirits, and an example lustrous with all the beauties of holy living, extending over more than half a century, he is coming to the end of life loved, honored, and revered by a multitude of people, sustained with the richest consolations of Divine grace ; not a shadow of distrust or fear upon his hallowed spirit, and exulting with all the energy that age and sickness have left to him in the sure conviction that he is passing away to share the undying joys of that better land which is the home of the saints and the glorious abode of an- gels and of God. The progress of the disease is not rapid, but it is surely undermining the citadel of life, already greatly weakened by the effects of time. Two or three times the missionary stands at that bedside to rejoice with the exulting saint, and join with him in prayer and praise. Multitudes who have long known his godly walk and conversation would Happy Deaths. 403 fain look upon the dying servant of the Lord and participate in his joy and triumph. Many of his Christian associates are admitted to the hallowed chamber, and none depart without feeling some- thing of what inspired the breast of him who prayed in the olden time, " Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his ! " Three or four days suffice to bring the conflict to an end. Death conquers ; but it is only the frail, perishable body that succumbs to his power, and that only for the appointed season, until the re- demption morning, when it shall come forth in immortal life and beauty from the grave. The ransomed and purified spirit death has no power to touch. Breathing accents of love and triumph to the end, the mortal frame sinks at length in the collapse of death, and the soul, transcendently happy, wings its flight to God. On the following day, attended by a far-reaching train of Christian friends, the wasted remains are borne to the old burial-ground, to be deposited in the dust amid the graves of hundreds who have finished their course with joy. The pastor, whose duty it is to take the principal part in the last offices for the dead, while the loud swell of the funeral hymn dies on the lips of the thousands who have fol- lowed the departed saint to his last earthly rest- ing place, feels how sublimely touching and true are the poetic lines in which the great minstrel of Methodist song has molded the apocalyptic announcement concerning the Lord's departed ones : 26 404 Romance Without Fiction. " Hark ! a voice divides the sky : — Happy are the faithful dead ! In the Lord who sweetly die, They from all their toils are freed ; Them the Spirit hath declared Blest, unutterably blest ; Jesus is their great reward, Jesus is their endless rest." Side by side with the senior pastor is one who is soon to realize in his own happy experience all the blessedness to which these glowing words refer, and exhibit in the triumphant joy of an un- clouded death-scene an impressive contrast to the shame, sadness, and terror, not to say despair, which hung darkly, like thick clouds, over the close of that life referred to in a preceding chap- ter, vitiated and cut short by the drink fiend, the opening of which was brilliant with the promise of missionary usefulness. He has taken part in the solemn service just concluded, for he, too, bears the missionary character, and, as a co-pastor in the circuit, has sympathized, with all the vigor of an ardent soul, in the Christian joy of the blessed old man who has just passed to the tri- umphant Church before the throne of God. He has but recently arrived at the ripeness of youth- ful manhood, and it is but some six years since he entered upon his missionary work. Born in a western county of England, where earnest piety abounds, and recommended from a metropolitan circuit, he has brought with him an earnest spirit of piety and a devoted zeal, which have abun- Happy Deaths. 405 dantly justified the selection made of him for mis- sionary toil. In the several scenes of labor in which he has exercised his ministry, his cheerful, genial piety, and loving, tender courtesy, shown to all classes and all ages alike, have gained for him the affections of thousands of loving hearts, so that with young and old he is a general favorite ; while his laborious zeal, which shrinks from no amount of labor, and the power of God which at- tends his lively and original expositions of Divine truth, render him to all his brethren a desirable colleague. Never did a richer unction attend his ministry, never did he live more fully in the re- spect and love of his fellow-laborers, than at the time when he stands with them over the open grave of good old William Harris. But not one of that company of ministers anticipates for a mo- ment that, close to the same spot, there will ere long be another grave opened, and the same sol- emn service read over one of their own number, and he the youngest of them all. Yet such is the fact. The one blemish in that devoted servant of the Lord Jesus, the only thing that fastidiousness itself could point out as a sub- ject of blame, is, that he does not exercise all the prudential care for the preservation of health that may justly be regarded as a religious duty, a duty owing to himself, his young wife and child, and the Church of God, to whose service he has con- secrated all the energies he may possess, and which, therefore, ought to be preserved and guarded with such vigilance as higher and more 4o6 Romance Without Fiction. imperative duties will permit. Doubtless there are times when health, family considerations, and even life itself, are all to be disregarded and sacri- ficed in the great Master's service, and when fidel- ity to Christ can only be maintained by such sacri- fice ; but neither life nor health ought to be reck- lessly and unnecessarily lavished and wasted, and a career of usefulness brought prematurely to an end, when no claims of duty demand that it should be so. Here is the infirmity which friendly, loving eyes see cause to blame. There is not, as in some un- happy instances before referred to, a wicked, will- ful waste of health and life through the indulgence of a vicious appetite, for total abstinence from the use of alcohol claims him as one of its staunch adherents. No ; it is that he is too prodigal in expending his strength for God, and not so care- ful to guard against unwholesome influences as he might be without detracting in the very smallest degree from the efficiency of his labors. But no doubt such an infirmity of judgment — a fault lean- ing to virtue's side — may well find excuse in the all-loving One, who is so merciful to the weak- nesses of his creatures. To this it is justly attrib- uted that, after a short career of usefulness, he falls under the influence of one of those insidious diseases of the tropics so fatal to human life. Dysentery in an aggravated form lays him pros- trate, and most reluctantly for a season he is con- strained to relinquish the work in which his whole soul is absorbed. By medical treatment the dire Happy Deaths. 407 disease seems to be checked, but before nature has been allowed sufificiently to rally her energies after such severe prostration, setting aside the kindly remonstrances of anxious friends, and the earnest pleadings of a loving partner, he is found giving himself up as freely as before to efforts and journeys which are beyond his partially recruited strength. The consequence is a relapse. With intensified energy the fell malady returns to find its victim, enfeebled by the former attack, less fitted than before to resist its enervating power. The best medical skill available is exerted. All that warm affection can dictate is done to arrest the complaint and save the valued patient. But it may not be. One paroxysm of intense anguish succeeds another with augmented violence, and it becomes too evident that the days of the loved one are numbered. The honored servant of Christ, upon whose lips thousands have hung with delight and profit, is passing away, and the sun of his bright young life, before it has reached its meridian, is about to be eclipsed in the darkness of the grave. All are depressed and sorrowful with the thought but himself. It is to all the loving friends that hover around that sick bed a sad and mournful reflection that a life and ministry so fraught with blessing and usefulness should be suddenly cut short ; but to himself it is matter of fervent joy. How often have they heard him heralding his ap- proach with the cheerful strains, " And we'll all give him glory when we arrive at home !" 4o8 Romance Without Fiction. But now, while he sings the joyous words with all the energy his wasted powers are capable of, his countenance becomes radiant with the hope that this glorious home is close at hand, and he is about to enter in. Not even the thought of his young wife and child being left behind has any effect in making him cling to earth. " God will take care of them," he says ; and in a somewhat different sense from that which he has been ac- customed to use it, the couplet is often upon his lips, as if he were anxious to depart and be with Christ — " Come, Lord, the drooping sinner cheer, Nor let thy chariot wheels delay." Excruciating pains often rack the debilitated frame, and as he draws near to the fatal crisis powerful convulsions betoken the approach of the all-subduing foe, recalling to the memory of one who looks upon the servant of God, smitten down in his young manhood, a vivid, painful recollection of that other one, who had also borne the mission- ary character, whom he saw trembling and con- vulsed in the grasp of the king of terrors. But O how different the one case from the other ! In this there is nothing to fear concerning the future. In that there was hardly room to hope. Here is one whom the Divine Master is taking, in glorious triumph, to the heavenly Paradise within the vail. There was one who was departing — only the All- merciful could say where, for even charity itself could not dare to say — it could only faintly hope — " He is a sinner saved by grace, passing home Happy Deaths. 409 to God." This is one who has run the course of the just, shilling more and more brilliantly like the orb of day, and setting in glory without a cloud. That was the case of one sinking in dark clouds from human ken, but whether to rise in brightness in a more glorious world, or to suffer an everlast- ing eclipse, must be left to the revelations of eter- nity. It is the contrast of the faithful and the fallen, between one who endured with unswerving fidelity to the end, and one who turned aside and fell, seduced by treacherous vice to paths of dan- ger and ruin. The scene so painful, yet triumphant, closes. The last convulsive throe shakes the weakened and attenuated frame, and shows the power of the terrible disease which is permitted by Him who hath the keys of death and of Hades to cut short that young and valued life, and then the eye rests upon a young and newly-made widow, weeping in bitter agony over the inanimate remains which the hallowed, victorious spirit has just cast off, to enter an everlasting rest. Sad is the overwhelming con- viction that now comes home to that desolate heart, that the being, more dear to her than all the world beside — the one she has loved so well — loved as only woman can love — the possessor of all earthly excellences, is to her no more for this life, and that alone in the solitude of early widow- hood, bereft of the tender care and loving sympa- thy which promised to fill her path through life with so much of peace and joy, she must, with her fatherless boy, tread that path alone. Bitter is 410 Romance Without Fiction. the thought that, unaided by the counsels she has found so precious, and from which she hoped so much, she must bear alone all the momentous re- sponsibility of training that young heir of immor- tality to follow his father to the skies. But she knows in whom she has believed, and her trust is that God will not withhold his aid and blessing in this noble undertaking, so worthy of a mother's yearning love, so worthy of a'life's devotion ! It is a touching and it is an instructive scene that the next day's sun sheds his rays upon as he descends in unclouded tropical glory toward the western horizon, for all that is earthly of the young missionary, so early taken to his rest, is being borne to the grave. There are none of the gor- geous trappings of woe. A plain hearse bears the coffin, and a few weepers of crape around the hats of those nearest to the coffin are the only funeral adornments considered requisite for the occasion. But many of the great ones of earth go to the proud mausoleums prepared for them without such honors as distinguished the closing scene in the history of this young servant of Christ. Thou- sands upon thousands have assembled, uninvited, to make part of that funeral procession ; men, women, and children are gathered, as if some mighty conqueror whom all delighted to honor were about to be consigned to the dust, and all who can command a black coat or gown, or a mourning handkerchief or ribbon, have brought them forth on this occasion. In thousands of eyes glisten tears of grief, or, chasing each other Happy Deaths. 4 1 1 down the sable cheek, they bear eloquent witness to the affection with which the departed was hon- ored as the funeral cortege moves slowly through the streets. It is no easy matter to convey the body into the chapel because of the dense throng which crowds the commodious building. Equally difficult it is for the bearers to approach -the open grave with their precious burden. At length they do so ; the coffin is lowered to its resting-place — earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust — in sure and certain hope of the resurrection of the dead, and the solemn service closes with a hymn, loud sobs making themselves audible amid the lofty swell of a multitude of voices singing in me- lodious strains — " Yes, the Christian's course is run, Ended is the glorious strife ; Fought the fight, the work is done, Death is swallow'd up of life ! Borne by angels on their wings, Far from earth the spirit flies, Finds his God, and sits, and sings, Triumphing in Paradise." A few days have elapsed, and a dense throng of people is assembled in and around the principal place of worship in the city. Nearly all are in black, or else have black adornings to the clean white dresses they wear on the occasion, for it is the time when the funeral sermon of the departed missionary is to be delivered. Several of his brethren and colleagues are there, who loved him well; but the principal part of the service has been 412 Romance Without Fiction. confided to one who was the boyish companion of the ascended one, and the associate of his youth ; who sought with him the blessings and joys of re- ligion, and entered with him upon the delightful work of laboring for precious souls — the chosen Christian friend. It is fitting and proper that the honor — whatever of that there may be in it — of improving the early death of the loved one should belong to this companion of his early days. Right well and judiciously does he improve the mourn- ful occasion. No fulsome eulogy is indulged, no flattering compliments are uttered, but to the Giver of every good and perfect gift all the honor and praise is ascribed, while he shows, in a dis- course eloquent in its simplicity and appropriate- ness, that the friend and brother just passed out of sight and gone home to God was "a good man, and full of the Holy Ghost and of faith, and much people was added to the Lord." Living, weeping witnesses all around, who have been awakened and brought to God through his instrumentality, can set to their seal that of him these words are true. The sermon ended, the ' minister, whose co-pastor the departed missionary has been, and whom he has loved and lamented with all the warm affection of a brother, rises to say a few words to the congregation. He speaks of the young widow and the fatherless boy, who has only seen a few months of life, and the sad bereavement they have sustained, which is aggra- vated by the painful fact that they are left with very, very slender claims upon any means of Happy Deaths. 413 earthly support. He will not dishonor the mem- ory of his departed friend by presenting his widow and little one to their notice as begging for help at their hands. They know nothing of his inten- tion to make any reference to them on this occa- sion. They could not know it, and none could know it, for it is only now, while listening to the soul-moving remarks of the preacher who has just sat down, that the propriety of mentioning the subject there and then has suggested itself to his mind. He will only state the fact that the widow and her child are left more than ordinarily desti- tute, without friends and -without a home. He will ask them for nothing, but knowing how well they loved the husband and the father, he will furnish the opportunity for the exercise of their own generous impulses by attending himself at one, and his two colleagues at the other two chap- els in the city, for an hour or two about midday on the morrow. At the appointed hour in the morning hundreds are there with tear-stained cheeks, bringing each an offering, small in itself in many instances, but, when regarded in the same light as the widow's two mites, liberal indeed. Hundreds of children are there too, for the young minister was specially beloved of children, all with offerings of greater or less value ; every one of them precious, however, as the spontaneous tribute of true affection, and no doubt graciously appreciated by Him who looks at the hearts of givers. Nor do his missionary brethren hang back from testifying their love to 414 Romance Without Fiction. their valued brother by showing kindness to those he has left behind. It is a source of intense satis- faction to him, who suggested to the kindly con- sideration of Christian friends that the widow and her fatherless son had claims upon their sympathy, while it is honorable to the liberality of the donors, that in a short time he is able to make a favorable investment of several hundred pounds, all of it the cheerful, spontaneous gift of love. This is done in such a way as to afford efficient aid to the bereaved mother in bringing up her boy in the land of his father in a manner befitting the memory of his sainted sire, and prepare him to play a worthy part upon the stage of life ; the mother blessed in her son, the son equally blessed in his mother. It is a further cause of satisfaction and joy, when after the lapse of twenty years he meets that moth- er and son again in the west of England, to find that God's hand has been upon them both ; the prayers of the long ascended father and the living mother for their boy have been answered in his early con- version, and in the devotion of his heart and life to God ; and that, blooming into manhood, he is about to offer his gifts and energies to be employed in that ministry in which it was his father's delight and honor to live and die. May the blessing of his father's God make the course of the young minister to be one eminently enriched with all the fragrant graces and beauties of Christian holi- ness, and abounding with the fruits of the higher wisdom that winneth souls for God ! Crossing the Atlantic. 415 XXI. Crossing the Atlantic. The sea is mighty, but a mightier sways His restless billows. Thou, whose hands have scoop'd His boundless gulfs and built his shore. Thy breath, That moved in the beginning o'er his face. Moves o'er it evermore. The obedient waves To its strong motion roll, and rise and fall. — Betaxt. TTlT is a lively, restless scene, calculated to per- 3ir plex the quiet mind, that presents itself to a party of travelers as they step from their hackney carriages in the dock-yard at Southampton. A small steamer, which is employed as a " tender," to convey passengers and the mails to the larger vessels, is alongside the quay, and appears already crowded with persons who are going off to the *' La Plata," now lying, ready for her departure, in what are called the Southampton waters. Trunks, carpet-bags, etc., intermingled with package-cases of all shapes and sizes, are piled in heaps upon the narrow deck of the little vessel ; while, from stem to stern, almost every available portion of space appears occupied by the owners of these miscel- laneous articles, all carefully defended by cloaks, shawls, muffs, and furs, against the bitter cold of a January morning, which is to witness their depart- ure for a brighter and a warmer clime. Still, 4i6 Romance Without Fiction. however, porters are rapidly traversing the narrow plank which affords access to the tender, and a continuous stream of passengers pours in, until it becomes quite impossible for any of the earlier arrivals to move from the place where they have taken their stand, or have been fortunate enough to secure a seat. And how motley is the crowd squeezed together within those narrow limits ! French and Spanish, English and German, Portu- guese and Mexican, the mulatto and the negro, exhibit here their distinguishing peculiarities as, like a flock of migratory birds at the close of sum- mer, they are all on the wing for the far west. The bell rings ; the plank connecting the tender with the shore is withdrawn ; the sharp shrill voice of the call-boy conveys to the invisible engineer the command to "turn ahead;" and the noble steamers that grace the dock, destined for distant voyages both to east and west, are speedily left behind. In a few minutes the docks are cleared, and the voyagers, with their friends, are moving swiftly down the placid Southampton waters toward the point at which " La Plata," with the well known sailing signal flying at her mast-head, is proudly seated on the bosom of the deep, waiting to re- ceive her freight. Even at the distance of two miles she appears large and majestic ; but when a quarter of an hour has brought the tender near, her graceful and magnificent proportions become more distinctly visible. Various emotions swell the bosoms of those who gaze upon her; for while Crossing the Atlantic. 417 some are thoughtless, others are not unmindful of the perils of the great deep. In the midst of their admiration, the thought suggests itself to some minds, " Possibly that noble vessel is destined to become my coffin, and to bear down to the un- searchable caverns of the ocean a multitude of im- mortal beings who with unsuspecting confidence are about to intrust themselves to the treacherous flood." They do not forget the tragical fate of the " President," which perished, how, or when, or where, no man living can explain ; or the still more recent catastrophe of the "Amazon." No one ventures to express the thoughts that are busy within him ; yet the inquiry arises, " Will she safely traverse the broad Atlantic with the souls aboard her .-* or, like her hapless predecessor, will she be lighted up, a blazing beacon, to startle and appal the nation with the details of frightful suf- fering, hair-breadth escapes, and self-sacrificing heroism 1 " The tender is now alongside, appearing but a cockle-shell in comparison with her lofty princi- pal. A scramble to get on board ensues, the stronger elbowing and thrusting aside the weaker, as if life itself depended upon being among the first to tread " La Plata's " decks. But the more timid, who have patiently waited their turn, with the nurses and children, are all in due time handed over the tender's paddle-box by polite and attentive officers. The piles of baggage are also carefully transferred to the larger vessel, the whole speedily disappearing as porters from the 41 8 Romance Without Fiction. shore bear it away and deposit it in the cabins respectively apportioned to the several owners. Some mistakes have occurred in the hurry of em- barkation. Cabin No. 9, which, along with three others, Nos. 7, 11, and 13, has been engaged by a family party of seven persons, is found occupied by strange boxes and carpet-bags, the owner of which is beginning to uncord them, with a view of putting things in order, and making all as snug and comfortable as possible while the vessel lies quietly at anchor. Explanation follows, when it is found that the stranger has got into " the wrong box," by mistaking No. 9 aft for No. 9 forward, where the berth to which he has a legitimate claim awaits his occupation. A word or two of good- humored apology sets the matter right, and on the shoulders of a sturdy porter the intruding baggage is borne away to the less sumptuous yet comfort- able range of cabins before the funnels. The large and handsome saloon, extending in length nearly seventy feet, and beautifully fitted with panels and twisted columns of bird's-eye maple and cushions of crimson velvet, presents a lively scene. Family parties, exchanging a few last words, are grouped in different directions ; while the purser and the company's clerks, at separate tables, are busily engaged in rectifying mistakes, adjusting conflicting claims, or startling some of the passengers by accounts for " extra baggage." Many on board are, manifestly, for- eigners. At one end of the spacious apartment a loquacious little Frenchman, whose fierce, squir- * Crossing the Atlantic. 419 rel-like eyes are almost the only part of his feat- ures not concealed by a mass of carefully culti- vated hair, is carrying on an angry dispute with one of the company's clerks and two or three of the passengers, who appear to be interested on the other side of the question. It is impossible for those who are in the vicinity not to overhear the conversation, in which several other parties on both sides, as well as the principal disputants, take a vociferous part, and it soon becomes ap- parent that the diminutive Frenchman, through some mistake of the company's Parisian agent, has obtained the occupancy of a cabin previously engaged by an English resident at Bogota, who quietly insists on having the accommodation for which he has stipulated and paid. The French- man has, however, the advantage of possession. With the key of the apartment in his pocket, he sets argument, entreaty, and authority alike at de- fiance, and, with a volubility perfectly overwhelm- ing, persists in asserting his right. The dispute remains unsettled, when it is an- nounced that the tender, which had returned to Southampton, has again put off from the shore with the mails — the well-known sign that the ship will speedily put to sea. A few minutes suffice to bring the little steamer alongside, when, under the superintendence of the agent — an old, battered, and nearly worn-out lieutenant of the navy — the mails are brought on board. Nearly seventy stout canvas bags, and other packages, each requiring two or three men to lift it, contain the mass of 27 420 Romance Without Fiction. correspondence and news for transportation to the west. What a world of emotion is bound up in the contents of those packages ! How much of hope and despondency, of joy and sorrow, may be latent there ! When those mail-bags shall have yielded their sealed treasures what impulses will be given to the yearnings of a heartless cupidity on the one hand, and to the noble sentiments and aspirations of a self-denying benevolence on the other ! As the bags are successively handed over the ship's side by " La Plata's " brawny tars their destination may be read, printed on the canvas in large characters. The word " Havana " shows some to be designed for Cuba, where the worst horrors of slavery are still rampant, and several hundred thousands of human beings crouch and writhe under the lash. On others, " Vera Cruz " reveals the fact that the miners of Mexico have their share in the contents of the mail ; while, as "Jamaica," "St. Kitt's," "Antigua," "Barbadoes," etc., meet the eye, the beholder is reminded that there is in that vast heap of letters and papers something to cheer the hearts of Christian mis- sionaries who, in those lovely and fertile isles of the Caribbean, pursue with diligence their work of faith and labor of love among the emancipated children of Africa. Among others who have come off with the mails is Captain Vincent, the superintendent of the com- pany's affairs at Southampton, and formerly in command of one of their ships, whose stentorian voice is now heard from the gangway speaking in Crossing the Atlantic. 421 accents of authority. It transpires that the mat- ter of the disputed cabin has been referred to the superintendent by the English claimant, who avows his determination to take his family ashore in the tender, and throw up his passage altogether if the company's engagement with him be not carried into effect. The disputatious Frenchman is by no means inclined to yield to the more equitable de- mand, even when that demand is sustained by the decision of Captain Vincent. With gleaming eye and untiring vociferation, he still protests that he will keep possession. " Where is the carpenter } " inquires Captain Vincent, and that functionary soon makes his appearance. " Go and break open the cabin-door, and let this gentleman in," is the laconic order. "Ay, ay, sir." Hardly sooner said than done, and the carpenter is back in a few mo- ments. " The cabin is open, sir." The discom- fited Galilean retires, chagrined, from the now hopeless contest, and the successful competitor goes, well pleased, to take possession. Again the voice of the superintendent is heard. " Captain Weller, I have ordered the cabin No. — to be broken open and given to Mr. . You will, no doubt, make the gentleman who had it as com- fortable as possible somewhere else." "Ay, ay, sir," responds the captain, with manly voice, from the top of the paddle-box. " The gentleman shall be made comfortable. I will give him my own cabin if he likes to take it." What a magic influence is there in kindness ! The tone and manner in which these words are 422 Romance Without Fiction. spoken, together with the generous spirit they breathe, have in a moment awakened in many breasts a feeling of respectful regard for the speak- er, which is by no means lessened when, drawn to the quarter whence the voice proceeds, the eyes of most of the passengers rest for the first time upon the man under whose guidance and com- mand they are about to proceed across the watery waste, and upon whose vigilance, skill, and energy, under God, not only their comfort, but the safety of their lives, will depend. With anxious glance his form and countenance are closely scanned, and he bears the scrutiny well. He looks every inch a sailor. The modest uniform of the compa- ny enwraps a stout, muscular, symmetrical, and well-knit frame, capable of enduring a large amount of fatigue, and not likely soon to break down. Not the slightest trace of effeminacy is there. The gold-laced cap is seen to surmount a countenance which inspires at once confidence and respect. There is a good-humored frankness beaming from the eye, which invites the beholder to look again, and leaves on his mind a pleasing image. But there is also an expression of deter- mination, and even of daring, which imparts the comfortable assurance that in any emergency where manly courage and cool self-possession are re- quired reliance may be placed on our captain. All preparations are now completed. The pas- sengers have finally shaken hands with shore-going friends and seen them pass through the gangway into the tender, while both dropped the parting Crossing the Atlantic. 423 tear. The two vessels have separated, and the foam from the massive paddle-wheels shows that the voyage has commenced in earnest. The little tender, running parallel for a few mor.ients with the departing ship, sends forth three hearty fare- well cheers, which are as heartily returned by the " La Plata's " men, clustering like bees in the shrouds. Each pursues its course, the tender re- turning to the docks at Southampton, while the massive mail-boat, directing her stem toward the British Channel, plows her way through the deep, leaving in her wake a broad line of foam to mark the increasing rapidity with which she glides away from the shores of Old England. Dinner is quickly served after the vessel is fairly under way, and both ranges of tables, which run the entire length of the spacious saloon, are seen completely filled with the passengers— for the most part strangers to each other. To those who know something of the casualties of a sea- voyage it appears not very probable that they will all assemble on the morrow in the same place again. And so it proves. The evening is com- paratively serene ; the Needles and the Portland lights are successively passed, together with a large steamer homeward bound, supposed to be the " Magdalena," and our noble ship makes rapid progress down the Channel until at length the decks are cleared, and all have retired to their berths, indulging the hope that an easy and pleas- ant run lies before them. But during the night the wind increases, and the sea becomes agitated, 424 Romance Without Fiction. imparting considerable motion to the vast fabric that is cutting her way through the rolling waves. The usual consequences of such a state of things ensue. Long before daylight voices are heard from all parts of the ship allotted to passengers earnestly calling for the services of the steward and stewardess, and many a note of distress and suffering issues from the unknown depths of the vessel. Morning dawns, and the sea no longer presents the placid and grateful aspect of the evening be- fore. It wears an angry appearance. The ship rolls and pitches considerably, rendering it diffi- cult for even the practiced stewards and waiters to keep their feet. When breakfast is spread, the sceine is very different from that of the dinner hour on the previous day. Of the numerous pas- sengers, scarcely one in ten appears in answer to the summons, and some of those who do emerge from their cabins look exceedingly woebegone. So that now the saloon, in its comparative stillness and desertion, wears an air of gloom and desola- tion, increasing the depression already prevalent. It is the same at dinner. A plentiful repast is spread, but the loud ringing of the steward's bell calls forth, in addition to the captain and officers who usually preside at the tables, only some ten or a dozen ghostly-looking persons, who, in sheer desperation, resolve at least to make an attempt to shake off the fiend of seasickness. Alas ! the effort is vain. One or two old sea-goers, despite the rocking and plunging of the ship, keep their Crossing the Atlantic. 425 places, and do justice to the viands spread before them ; but in other instances the very sight and odor of the food prove utterly unendurable, and the issue is a hasty and inglorious retreat. Another day dawns, but brings no improvement in the weather. The wind has veered round to the west and blows very strong. Yet the passen- gers begin to leave their berths. A few pale and disheveled ladies may be seen reclining upon the cushions and settees of the saloon, and toward evening some of the other sex find courage to as- cend the poop, and gaze upon that wild and angry abyss of waters, raging as if they would swallow up the ship and all that it contains. To some minds it occurs (and it is far from a gratifying re- flection) that this is the anniversary of the fear- ful loss of the "Amazon." It was two years ago this evening, near the spot where the " La Plata " is now laboring on, and during the prevalence of a similar gale, that the numerous denizens of that ill-fated ship were startled from their sleep in the dead of night to find themselves shut up in a blaz- ing vessel and compelled to choose — as many as were not already suffocated in their berths — be- tween the burning fiery furnace beneath their feet and the poor chance of safety they had in com- mitting themselves to the mercy of the billows. Should a similar calamity be permitted to occur, how few of those on board could be preserved ! How small the probability that even one boat could live through a voyage of hundreds of miles in that boiling and roaring sea ! The lapse of hour 426 Romance Without Fiction. after hour brings no mitigation of the gale. On the contrary, its fury increases from day to day, un- til at length it blows a perfect hurricane, and the most experienced seaman on board acknowledges that he has never in these latitudes known a gale to surpass it in strength and duration. Viewed from the quarter-deck the scene is one of terrible sublimity, bringing forcibly to mind the words of the psalmist, " They that go down to the sea in ships . . . see His wonders in the deep." The huge billows lift up their hoary heads on high, while the force of the wind is so great as to cut off their curling summits, driving and scattering them abroad in clouds of spray. Far as the eye can reach, the ocean is white with foam. Yet, associ- ated though it is with the idea of peril to the ship and the two hundred and seventy souls with which she is freighted, the scene is one of impressive grandeur and beauty, suggestive of lofty and sal- utary thoughts concerning the perfections and glories of the almighty One, who holds these vast and storming waters in the hollow of his hand. Here it is that man feels how little and how helpless he is. Now lifted up to the heavens, then plunging into the deep trough of the sea, how can he curb or control the fury of the boisterous elements .'' Nothing but a single plank or iron plate which the next shock of the waves may hopelessly displace, prevents his sinking into the unfathomable gulf that yawns beneath. And here it is tl at he feels how vast and illimitable must be the power of that Divine Being who made and who controls at his Crossing the Atlantic. 427 pleasure those turbulent and roaring billows ; who sits in calmest majesty above the water floods, and reigns a king forever. Onward through the gale " La Plata " pursues her course. Her commander amply justifies the confidence which his frank and manly bearing at first inspired. He has never before seen the ship he now commands so thoroughly tested, but her admi- rable qualities become fully developed by the trial she is passing through. He urges her onward, in • the teeth of the tempest, at the rate of nearly seven knots an hour. He knows that the gale may, in these latitudes, continue for two or three weeks, and wisely concludes that the best and shortest method will be to drive the vessel through it, with all the speed of which she is capable. And right nobly does she second her captain's wishes. Often she is stunned for a moment or two by the thun- dering blow of some massive wave upon her star- board quarter, and every timber creaks as if she would go to pieces. Still she rises gallantly, keep- ing her bowsprit directed to the sailing point. Under the impulse of her powerful engines, she throws aside the threatening waters and dashes on her way. Now she pitches forward as the monster billow sinks under her bows, as if she would plunge head foremost into the flood and disappear altogether, while a torrent of foam and spray is sent to the very extremity of her far- stretching decks. Then again she rolls into the trough, until some of the terrified passengers shriek in deep alarm lest she should never recover 428 Romance Without Fiction. her equilibrium, but, turning over, settle down for ever into the fathomless deep. But onward still she moves, and during all this contention with tempestuous winds and raging seas, extending over a period of five days and nights, not a timber in the well-compacted and beautiful vessel is started ; no increase of bilge-water indicates that her seams have been strained. Easily and grace- fully rising and falling with the waves, she prompt- ly answers to every motion of the helm, and rushes on her course as if instinct with life. How fit an emblem of the man of God ! How like the great apostle of the Gentiles ! No matter what hostile wind may blow, or what opposition may for a sea- son impede his course. The tempest may rage, the billows may roll, and he may be tossed about, apparently abandoned to the mercy of the ele- ments. As the noble vessel is urged onward by the untiring play of the vast power within her own bosom, so the apostle, under one guiding im- pulse— the constraining love of Christ — presses for- ward in the course of duty and suffering, unwea- ried and undismayed, always making for the same point, and saying, " This one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before, I press towa.rd the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus." It is during the oft-recurring meal-time that the most amusing incidents occur. The destruc- tion of glass and earthenware is very extensive, and on her return to Southampton the " La Plata " Crossing the Atlantic. 429 will be found to have " expended " largely in these departments during her voyage. The table in the ladies' saloon has just been supplied with basins of soup, plates of biscuit, water-decanters, and glasses for the refreshment of some who are still too unsettled to appear above stairs, when a sud- den lurch of the ship sweeps the table clear, and the carpet is covered with the Avreck. A loud crash in the steward's pantry proclaims the down- fall of one of the waiters in the midst of a mass of crockery, ready to be deposited on the table ; and a similar noise in the lobby proceeds from another who has been overturned while both arms were laden with plates and glasses. All parts of the ship in turn send forth sounds of breakage and ruin. In the large saloon sad confusion prevails. Now a lamp-glass not securely fastened darts from its position, and is dashed to shivers against the wall, within an inch of a passenger's head. The soup tureen takes a sudden fling, and three fourths of its contents are poured in the bosom of some unlucky one who happens to be sitting in the way of its progress. Ducks swim off nearly the whole length of the table, after a fashion alto- gether new, and far less graceful than that in which they were once accustomed to glide along their favorite element. And so with other viands. It is a lively but not a pleasant scene ; for few are without apprehension that there is great peril to the ship in these warring winds and fiercely-raging seas. The gale has continued four days and nights, and there is no sign of abatement; on the 430 Romance Without Fiction, contrary, the tremendous blows under which the vessel reels, and the increasing violence with which she rolls and pitches upon the swiftly-heav- ing billows, would indicate that both wind and sea rise higher and wax stronger still. Fear amount- ing almost to agony is torturing some breasts. With others arise touching reminiscences of the families they have recently left behind, or have been hoping soon to meet again. Misgivings concern- ing the past, and painful apprehensions of the fu- ture, hold alternate sway ; and from the crowded depths of the ship, especially during the dark watches of the night, many earnest prayers go up, in some instances from hearts little accus- tomed to such an exercise, appealing to the mercy and power of Him who measures the waters in the hollow of his hand. At daylight on the fifth day the tempest has reached its height, and it is fearful. Several heavy seas have broken over the bows, carrying away a portion of the framework beneath the bow- sprit ; when one huge wave, with a noise like thunder, striking the vessel with a violence which for the moment stops her course and causes every plank and bulk-head to creak and quiver, is found to have torn away one of the life-boats, which is seen, bottom upward, driving rapidly to leeward, as the ship, arousing herself, as it were, from the shock, urges on her course. This is a loss to be lamented, not only as the boat would be invaluable in case of such an emergency as may possibly arise, with a ship having two hundred and seventy souls Crossing the Atlantic. 431 on board, but because it was one of the boats saved from the unfortunate " Amazon," one which did its part in bearing to land the few that escaped the catastrophe of January 4, 1852. The mercury rises in the barometer throughout the day, and toward evening and throughout the night there is a perceptible improvement, wel- come beyond expression to the tempest-tossed and wearied inmates of the ship. The holy Sabbath dawns upon the ocean still rolling with majestic power, but exhibiting a milder and more pacific aspect. The captain thinks the sea too rough, and the motion of the vessel too great, to permit the holding of Divine service ; especially as the clothes of the men forward, and the boxes of some of the passengers, have been thoroughly saturated during the gale. Yet, surely, after so impressive a mani- festation of Divine power, it would be a grateful and becoming thing to render public thanks and worship to Him who has heard prayer, and saved the ship, with her crew and passengers, from the perils of the deep. In the afternoon the moderated state of the weather renders it safe even for the female portion of the voyagers to appear .on the upper deck, and thither most of them repair, some to read, and others to lounge away the time, (which the regulations of the vessel will not per- mit to be spent in games of chance,) under a cloudless sky, inhaling the balmy breeze ; while others prefer to read the holy Word, and meditate or converse upon the things of God, in the quiet of the almost deserted saloon. 432 Romance Without Fiction. Within a week how great a change has been experienced ! Last Sabbath, overcoats, cloaks, and furs were in general requisition ; and even these were scarcely sufficient to protect the wearers against the chilling sharpness of the keen northerly breeze. Now all these wrappings are cast aside ; the genial breath of spring fans the cheek; and it is felt that England, with its fogs, and glooms, and ever-changing climate, is left far behind. The Sabbath is over. The gale has passed away, and left no traces of its power upon the face of the deep, now smooth and placid. With un- ruffled surface, as if it had never been agitated, the sea gently rises and falls, imparting scarcely any perceptible movement to the immense and powerful fabric, which now urges her rapid prog- ress through the water, like the courser straining every nerve to reach the appointed goal. The outspread awning extends a grateful shade over the spacious after-deck, and a gay and joyous multitude is gathered there. Children, set free from the imprisonment of the close and suffocating cabins below, and no longer laboring under the depressing influence of seasickness, are racing along the decks with all the careless hilarity of youth. Mothers are toying with their infant charge. The busy needle and the crochet-hook, plied by nimble fingers, are fulfilling their duty. Books and chess-boards are in demand. Every thing wears a smiling aspect. Even the thorough- bred horse, having ridden out the storm in his Crossing the Atlantic. 433 box on deck, and the two monstrous sheep from the Cotswold Hills, as they waddle about the lower deck, appear pleased at the change in the weather. Indeed, there is nothing to show that the ship has been engaged in a protracted conflict with the elements, except it be the funnels whitened to the top with the spray that has dashed against them and left them incrusted with salt; the broken framework at the bows, and the solitary piece of wreck left hanging to the davits when the life- boat was wrenched away ; together with the clothes of seamen and officers and passengers, spread out in the forepart of the vessel to dry in the rays of the now unclouded sun. It is interesting to survey the different groups into which the occupants of the deck are divided. Yonder is the family of a wealthy planter, pro- ceeding with a train of domestics to Bogota, in the far interior of South America, where he flourishes as a large landed proprietor, whose possessions are designed to be enriched by the well-bred stock forming part of the cargo. The sedate, quiet-looking gentleman, whose silvery locks de- note that more than sixty summers have passed over his head, is said to be the president of the privy council in the British island which contains his home. The matron at his elbow is his wife ; and the two young ladies near to them are their daughters, whose pale and sickly aspect would seem to indicate that they have crossed the At- lantic in vain search after health ; while the sable habiliments of the party show that they have 434 Romance Without Fiction. recently endured the pang of separation from some one allied to them by affection or blood. A puisne judge from one of the colonies promenades the deck, with his wife hanging on his arm ; while their children, some of them subjects of sore affliction, may be seen at play below, except one, whose more distressing case is hidden from sight. A general in the service of Louis Napoleon figures among the passengers ; and an English professor of the healing art, remarkable for nothing except that he has imbibed skeptical notions, of which he appears to be half ashamed, while his pious and intelligent wife is wholly so. A thick volume, which he has handed to a missionary as " a very deep book," turns out to be a Socialist publication, containing a miserably shallow, feeble, and impu- dent attempt to invalidate the holy Scriptures, and set aside man's accountability for his belief and his actions. A group near the wheel-house is made up of West India planters. There are several from Barbadoes ; one of whom, a tall, thin, elderly per- sonage, once sympathized with the views and feelings of a wicked faction who destroyed the Wesleyan chapel in that island many years ago. But he has lived to come under better and holier influences; and he now rejoices over the downfall of slavery, which in former time he was ready to uphold, if needful, by sacrilege and murder. Another, from Jamaica, has adopted the narrow views which have long characterized his class in that island, and contributed largely to bring upon Crossing the Atlantic. 435 it the blighting displeasure of a righteous God, and to overspread a beautiful colony with desolation and ruin. A new class of men, influenced by noble views, and adopting a more generous and common-sense policy, must be raised up to super- intend its cultivation ere Jamaica will arise from the dust, and share the agricultural and commer- cial prosperity which is revisiting other British possessions in the Caribbean Sea. A missionary party, also, swells the number of passengers. A Baptist missionary, after a few months' absence to recruit his health, is returning to his pastoral charge in the interior of Jamaica, having left his family in England until it shall be seen whether his spare frame has, by the brief sojourn "at home," acquired sufficient vigor to endure the wasting labors of a tropical climate. The meek and quiet spirit which he breathes, together with a shrewd and discriminating knowledge of men and things, augurs well for the Churches that shall be placed under his pastoral care. The other, a Wesleyan missionary, after several years' residence in En- gland, preceded by seventeen years of interesting toil among the negroes of the Caribbean group, is going back with his family to enter again upon that fruitful scene of labor. Sable vestments tell of recent inroads made by death upon that domestic circle. Three youthful females, not in mourning, help to make up the party, being the children of a missionary laborer still in the field, who, after seven years' absence at school, are returning to the shelter of the paternal roof. 28 436 Romance Without Fiction. A respectable-looking elderly gentleman, of true French loquacity, exhibits at his button-hole the symbol of the /%■/ii tT was a painful spectacle that met my gaze when, standing by the bedside of one sadly disfigured by leprous disease, a feeble voice said, '' The Lord's will be done, minister. If the Master had seen good, I should have liked you to see me laid in my last resting-place. But it is all right, and I shall meet you in our Father's house above." Such were the hopeful words of a true child of sorrow, in whom the all-sufficiency of Divine grace to sustain and comfort in lengthened and compli- cated affliction had been wondrously exemplified, and to whom I was bidding farewell on the eve of embarking for my native land. For ten years I had been accustomed to visit that chamber of suffering, imparting the consolations of the Gospel to a chastened saint, receiving from her example of cheerful resignation lessons of sub- mission and patient endurance, and marking the 44^ Romance Without Fiction, triumph of a lowly, trusting spirit, that in the midst of overwhelming sorrow could always re- joice in God. When first I became acquainted with Mrs. H. she had lately become a widow under circum- stances of a most painful character. The husband of her youth and partner of her ripened years, in a fit of temporary derangement, had put an end to his own life. They had lived together most happily, until pecuniary embarrassment, preying upon a mind not strengthened and sustained by the experience of religion, caused reason to give way, and he sought refuge from his grief by drown- ing himself, leaving a widow and three children overwhelmed with affliction at their great loss, for he had been both a kind husband and a tender, loving parent. How fearfully the pang of separa- tion was aggravated by the tragic mode in which it was brought about can, perhaps, only be fully apprehended by those who have passed through a similar trial! It fell with all the weight of a crushing terror upon the loving hearts so tenderly united to each other, and so fondly attached to him, the family head, who had suddenly dropped into a premature grave. Religion, with its benignant influence, minis- tered consolation to the family and soothed the wounded spirits of the bereaved ones, for they had happily received the saving truths of the Gospel, and sheltered by faith beneath the wings of the Divme mercy. They found in this dark hour of sorrow how good and sweet it is to have the soul A Child of Sorrow. 447 resting on God, and sustained with the hope of immortal life. But the heart-stricken widow had still one earthly source of comfort and joy, shedding a cheerful light around her, and bright- ening the gloom of that dark shadow which had fallen across the pathway of her life. Her youngest child was a son, a gracious youth, whose heart had been surrendered to God, and whose early life, not yet ripened into man- hood, was giving rich promise of a good and use- ful career. Glad and grateful was the mother's heart when she saw her two lovely girls turn aside from all the gayeties and allurements of the world and choose, like Mary, the better part ; and be- held in them, as youthful members of the Church of Christ, the development of an earnest and practical piety. But her cup was full of bless- ing when her heart's yearnings were gratified, and the fervent prayers of some years were answered in the conversion of her boy. Her whole soul ex- panded with joy and gratitude to God when she saw unfolded in her cherished son those qualities which are the best guarantee for a blameless and happy life. It was an inexpressible relief to the widow, when the great trouble came to the family in the loss of its head, to look upon the manly youth as one who could both soothe her grief and guard her in some measure against that tide of evils and cares which the husband's death could not fail to let in upon her. And well and nobly did he respond to her hopes. There are occasions in human life 448 Romance Without Fiction. when the events of a day will do the work of years in the development of character. All at once the youth expands into the man of full-grown facul- ties, or the girl shoots up into the mature, sedate, and thoughtful woman, armed with unshrmking fortitude to enter upon the battle of life. So it was with the widow's son. The calamity that brought such terrible grief into the hitherto happy family seemed to awaken and call into full and vigorous life the nobler faculties of the young man. Though scarcely half-way through his teens, he ste;pped into the place made vacant by his father's death, a clear-headed, sagacious man of business, the pillar of the bereaved household, the mother's joy, and the sisters' pride and hope. It is well we do not see far enough into the future to perceive the dark clouds that are gathering upon our path, or how would every present joy be blighted and life rendered supremely wretched by the anticipa- tion of coming woe ! A year had fled, and time had healed in some measure the heart-wounds of the family. The young protector of his widowed mother and un- married sisters had developed qualities which commanded universal esteem and confidence, and was advancing with rapid steps to an advantageous business position. His excellent prospects might be improved by a voyage to New York and per- sonal communication with men of business in that emporium of commerce. It Avas before the time when steam afforded the means of secure and speedy transit, and the young man took his pas- A Child of Sorrow. 449 sage in one of the numerous merchant vessels bringing continental produce to the Western Ar- chipelago. He embarked, expecting to be away only a few weeks. But — mysterious Providence ! — the unfortunate vessel foundered at sea and was never heard of more. The time came when those whom he had left behind looked with anxious expectation, whenever a vessel came from the States, to hear of the safe arrival of the loved one, to be followed by his speedy return. But no letter came. Days and weeks passed, and expectation deepened into agonizing suspense and anxiety. How often did those fond hearts pour themselves out in earnest prayer for the safety of the absent one, hope still flattering them with the prospect of his return, who, alas ! was slumbering in death beneath the Atlantic wave ! Months rolled on. Still no tidings, and sorrow, aggravated by suspense, settled down again upon the family, which had already so keenly felt the storms of adversity. Hope whispered that he might yet turn up to gladden their eyes and hearts with his presence, for had not many done so after being a long time missing.? But as the year passed away, and intelligence came that the ship had never reached her destination, and other ves- sels were missing, supposed to have perished in a storm which occurred about that time near the American coast, hope gradually died out, giving place to the dreadful certainty that his yountr life had been engulfed by the stormy ocean, and that 450 Romance Without Fiction. the manly beauty of that form so dearly loved would rejoice their sight no more. So it proved. No tidings of the hapless bark were ever received. Like many another vessel traversing the Atlantic between the northern con- tinent and the isles which inclose the Caribbean Sea, she went down with all hands on board. None remained alive to relate the details of the sad catastrophe which had suddenly swept so many human beings into eternity. And crushed hearts were left behind, painfully to realize the evanescent and uncertain character of earth's best and purest blessings. Dark indeed was the gloom which settled upon the spirit of the poor widow as the stern conviction was forced upon her, after long resistance, that the only son, so well deserving all the fond love she lavished upon him, had found a watery grave, and that an inscrutable Providence had again thrown her, with blighted prospects, upon a course of privation and anxious care. But still upheld by the all-sufficiency of divine grace, she could bow in uncomplaining submission to God's will, and say, " It is the Lord, let him do what seemeth him good." It was a dark and mysterious dispensation, but a ray of brightness shone athwart the cloud. The eldest daughter had been married to a worthy man, who was willing generously to share his home and the proceeds of a not very lucrative business with the bereaved ones, and devote himself to more wearying toil, that he might impart a higher A CJiild of Sorrow. 45 1 degree of comfort to the refuge he was able to afford them. In all this the sorrowing widow and mother recognized the loving kindness of the Lord, regarding it as proof that the heavenly Fa- ther was not unmindful of her in her affliction. With thankful heart she acknowledged that love and wisdom were beneficently intermingled in those chastenings of that Father's hand which, for the present, were not joyous, but grievous. All this was, however, but the beginning of sor- rows to the afflicted widow. Great bitterness had yet to be mingled with the cup she was called to drink. A most wasting and wearying tribulation had yet to bruise her chastened spirit before it was made fully meet for the inheritance of the saints in light, aud fitted to bear the far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory which her heavenly Father's love was preparing for her enjoyment in that brighter world within the vail. In her younger days a face of remarkable beauty, and a figure of faultless grace, had distinguished the Quadroon maiden, which, but for the influence of religion early embraced, would have exposed her to many temptations. And even now that youth- ful charms have somewhat faded with ripening years, she is still a woman of queenly presence, and sufiflcient grace of form and feature remains to bear witness to the charms with which she was gifted in the days that are past. It is upon that person once so lovely, and still so fine in its proportions and graceful in its motions, that the blghting hand of the destroyer is next to 29 452 Romance Without Fiction. rest, until, wasted, deformed, and mutilated, it is changed into an object which exhibits a mournful contrast, and affords a painful illustration of the apostle's phraseology, " This vile body." Very slowly certain changes begin to show themselves in the features, gradually obliterating all the lines of beauty that once rendered them so attractive. To eyes accustomed to the develop- ments of tropical disease, the puffy swellings, pro- ducing great disfigurement of the countenance, as they present themselves, appear to be the heralds of one of those loathsome leprous complaints which are such a terrible scourge to the denizens of countries within, or near, the tropics. The leprosy is an insidious disease, that with fear- ful slowness, but with unerring certainty, through a long course of years preys upon the extremities and gradually approaches the citadel of life, until a course of horrible suffering terminates in a wel- come death. This terrible evil has come upon the Christian widow. The dread malady of the leper, with its long train of humiliations and sufferings, slowly reveals its hideous symptoms; and it be- comes evident that the sorely-stricken one, who has passed through such a succession of trials, is marked out to be a child of sorrow, and to endure adversity which shall end only when the worn and wasted frame shall sink to its rest in the dust. Some months elapse, after the disease becomes too apparent for its real character to be mistaken, before the afflicted one is necessitated to discon- A Child of Sorrow. 453 tinue her attendance upon those ordinances of the sanctuary which, for many years, have been her soul's delight and source of strength, and she is compelled to shut herself up in the chamber of suffering, which must be her prison until she is carried thence to the grave. Meanwhile she continues to meet her class of female members of the Church, and weekly to administer those coun- sels of godly wisdom by which many have been strengthened in the conflict of life, and encouraged to run with patience the race set before them. How diligently and earnestly does she labor in Christian duties ! How anxiously does she avail herself of all religious ordinances ! The night is coming when she can no longer work. She sees clearly the dark cloud before her that will shortly enwrap her in its folds. She is in the grasp of an enemy not to be shaken off. The time is not far distant when she will enter the sanctuary of God no more, and she must be a prisoner until her Master shall send her release by death. At present no opportunity of getting or doing good is omitted. At length she is no longer able to repair to God's house and hear for herself the word of life. The weekly class-meeting is held in the sick chamber, whither the members repair to hold fellowship with their afflicted leader, whom they may see and speak to, but dare not touch. Her chastened, hallowed spirit seems drawn, through sanctified suffering, into closer communion with God, and grows in conformity to the likeness of 454 Romance Without Fiction. the meek and lowly Son of man. And many a season of sweet spiritual refreshing do they realize while bowing in united prayer in that chamber of the sick, pouring out their hearts be- fore the Lord. It was about the time that her health began to decline that I became associated with the pastoral care of the Church in which this daughter of affliction was held in universal esteem as one of its official members. For a few months only I saw her in her place in the sanctuary. When she could no more be seen there I sought her in her home. There I often listened to the quiet breath- ings of a soul calmly stayed on God, whose un- wavering reliance upon the Divine wisdom and love imparted an elasticity and cheerfulness which no amount of sorrow seemed sufficient to suppress. That she might be permitted to lay the weary, wasting body down, and pass to that world of unclouded joy, where sickness and grief are never known, was certainly an object of strong desire with her; but there was always the most perfect resignation. Well did she understand the linger- ing nature of the malady that had seized upon her ; but she seemed to have grown so fully into the mind and image of the Lord as to feel and say with him, " O my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me : nevertheless, not my will, but thine be done." For seven years she was directly under my pastoral charge ; and during three other years, when my duties lay elsewhere, she claimed and A Child of Sorrow. 455 received my visits whenever business called me to the city. The chief sorrow that pressed upon her mind was the privation of religious ordinances ; which, through all the changes of her life, from her youth, had been her great delight. To meet, in some measure, this want, I was accustomed, six or eight times in each year, to conduct a preaching service in the room adjoining her chamber of sick- ness ; as many of her Christian friends attending as the apartment would conveniently accommodate, the room being always full. This was followed on each occasion by the sacramental ordinance. More than once I have taken a journey of forty miles for the purpose of affording to this suffering saint the gratification of hearing the word of truth. Her delight in these services was very great. Her soul fed upon them with the joy that the famishing may be supposed to feel in the meal which allays the craving of their hunger ; while others, who were privileged to attend them, found them to be eminently seasons of refreshing from the presence of the Lord. Years rolled on, and there still lay the submis- sive sufferer ; the loving hands of two excellent pious daughters ministering to her need and com- fort with tender care and untiring assiduity. Both were beautiful to contemplate : the mother's unchanging patience under the complicated afflic- tions that were surely dragging her down to the grave, and the never wearying filial love of the daughters, waiting and watching to soothe and help the afflicted one. Slow — fearfully slow — was 456 Romance Without Fiction. the progress of the fatal malady that was disfigur- ing and consuming the frail body, and it was only in the lapse of months and years that its inroads became ajjparent. Swelling of the joints first took away the power of locomotion, and laid the patient prostrate. As time rolled on, sores and ulcers, breaking out upon the hands and feet, showed the corrupted state of the blood. No power of medi- cine could establish a healing process ; and gradu- ally both fingers and toes were eaten away, and the limbs became incurably distorted and dis- abled. At the commencement of the disease the countenance first exhibited its sad effects. All traces of former comeliness were soon effaced by painful swellings and distortions, and the unnatural appearance of the skin, which is the usual accom- paniment of the malady. But, with this exception, for six or seven years its deadly ravages chiefly affected the limbs, eating them away by slow de- grees. At length these ravages extended to the nobler parts, showing that it was approaching the citadel of life. Sores and ulcers made their ap- pearance about the eyes, and other parts of the head and face. The sight became extinguished, the orbs of vision being eaten away as the ex- tremities had been. Then the hearing began to fail, and the countenance gradually exhibited such painful manifestations of the progress of the dire disease that it became necessary to keep it vailed. It was at this stage of the malady that I A Child of Sorrow. 457 preached for the last time, in the doorway near to her bed side, and afterward bade her farewell, to see her no more in this life. For nearly ten years she had lain upon that bed, scarcely ever free from excruciating pain, after having been most painfully bereft both of husband and son. But in all this she charged not God foolishly ; exhibiting the most perfect example of patient suffering it has ever been my lot to witness. No complaint or murmur was ever heard to drop from her lips, even by those who were in constant attendance upon her, through all the weary years of her pro- tracted trial. She was always cheerful and happy ; possessed of the sweet assurance that she was in the hands of a loving Father, who could do no wrong ; and that her affliction, in his unfailing wisdom, was working for her a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory. I left her with those words upon her lips which form the com- mencement of this paper. They were painfully and indistinctly uttered, for the power of speech was also beginning to fail. On the next day, after seventeen years of missionary toil, I embarked on my homeward voyage. She continued to suffer on for a few months lon- ger, when the welcome messenger came at length to summon her to the joy of her Lord. In sweet peace and triumph she left the corrupted, suffering, mutilated body to find its rest in the dust; while the chastened spirit took its flight to the triumph- ant Church before the throne of God. When the news of her departure reached me some thousands 458 Romance Without Fiction. of miles across the sea, rejoicing in the all-sufficient grace which had enabled this suffering disciple, through so many years, to exhibit a beautiful ex- ample of unfailing patience and unmurmuring resignation, I thought of the beautiful words of Charles Wesley : " This languishing head is at rest, Its thinking and aching are o'er ; This quiet immovable breast Is heav'd by affliction no more : This heart is no longer the seat Of trouble and torturing pain ; It ceases to flutter and beat, It never shall flutter again." The Funeral Sermon. 459 XXIII. The Funeral Sermon. 60 and dig my grave to day I Homeward doth my journey tend, And I lay my staff away Here where all things earthly end, And I lay my weary head In the only painless bed. Weep not ; my Redeemer lives ; Heavenward springing from the dust, Clear-eyed Hope her comfort gives ; Faith, Heaven's champion, bids us trust. Love eternal whispers nigh, " Child of God, fear not to die ! " From the German of E. M. Aendt. ^EAR Christian friends, I am come this morning to preach Mr. Wood's funeral sermon, and I shall at the same time preach my own also ; for I expect that I shall very- soon be laid beside my predecessor, who is rest- ing in yonder new made grave." Such was the startling address with which a young missionary commenced his labors at St. Ann's Bay, on the north side of Jamaica, in the year 1835. It had been a year of great mortality in the island. The yellow fever had extended its frightful ravages far and wide among the people, and already, within three months, the grave had closed over four missionary laborers, swept away 460 Romance Without Fiction. in the prime of their usefulness. Others mourned over the sudden removal of partners and children, fallen before the march of the fell disease which had carried death and sorrow into many a happy home. Mr. Wood was the last of the four missionaries who in rapid succession had sunk into the grave, leaving large congregations and Churches bereft of pastoral care and the ministry of the word of life. A man of great muscular energy, and full of life and vigorous health, he had succumbed in a few days to the power of the fever. His sudden removal was greatly mourned by a loving people, for whom he had suffered virulent persecution and labored with self-sacrificing zeal. But chiefly is he lamented by the youthful widow, who only a few weeks before had rejoiced to become his bride, and accompany him across the broad Atlantic, to share his hallowed toil among the children of oppression in the isles of the west. The removal of so many missionaries to their reward in so brief a period rendered it a difficult task for those whose province it was to fill up the vacancies occasioned by their death, and afford to the bereaved congregations even a partial supply of ministerial labor. But the best arrangements the case admitted of were made until further help could be obtained from England ; and Mr. Wal- ters was appointed to remove from Spanish Town to St. Ann's Bay, to supply the place of the lamented Mr. Wood. He was a young man of slender, delicate frame, and highly nervous temperament, The Funeral Sermon. 461 and had been a little more than four years labor- ing among the Churches of Jamaica. Of his piety and devotedness to his work his brethren had justly formed a high estimate. It was not, there- fore, without surprise that they heard him beg to be excused from taking the appointment that had been arranged for him, and earnestly request that, if practicable, he might be allowed to go else- where, and some other person be sent to fill the vacancy at St. Ann's Bay. He would not refuse to go if his brethren thought it right to persist in carrying their arrangements into effect ; but he en- treated that they would modify their plans, as he felt an unconquerable aversion to that particular appointment. Being pressed to state the ground of his objection more particularly, after some hesi- tation he said that, though he could not account for it, he had a deep impression on his mind that if sent to St. Ann's Bay he would die there ; and he fully believed that if he went as they had ap- pointed him, in two or three weeks he would be lying by the side of Mr. Wood. Regarding this feeling merely as the effect of nervous sensibility wrought upon by the painful events which had been transpiring for several months, the assembled ministers thought it better on the whole not to attach too much importance to what they considered a groundless impression. Moreover, they found it exceedingly difficult to provide in any other way for the necessities of the case, and therefore decided to abide by what they had proposed. Mr. Walters without further 462 Romance Without Fiction. remonstrance submitted and consented to go, not concealing the impression which still remained, that he was going to St. Ann's Bay not to labor, but to die. The next Sabbath finds the young missionary at his appointed scene of labor. Several years have elapsed since the sanctuary here was destroyed by violent and unreasonable men, who had com- bined together to drive the Christian missionary from the land, and deprive the enslaved children of Africa of the religious teaching which was their only solace and comfort under the multiplied evils and wrongs of their degraded condition. As yet the means have not been obtained to restore the sanctuary which sacrilegious hands have demol- ished and laid waste. But the hymn of praise and the voice of prayer, and the joyful sound of a preached Gospel, after many months of enforced silence are again heard, and crowds assemble Sab- bath after Sabbath to listen to the truth by which not a few of them have been made wise unto salva- tion. There lie the ruins of the house of prayer scattered on the ground, bearing witness to the savage violence which for a while reigned triumphant, setting all law and authority at defiance. Hard by is the burial-ground connected with the demolished chapel, where many a saint sleeps in hope of a joyful resurrection. Here, among the graves, and overshadowed by the wide-spreading plume-like leaves of the luxuriant cocoa-nut trees, may be seen a large white canvas tent, which The Funeral Sermon. 463 serves to screen a portion of the congregation from the scorching rays of the tropical sun, and the heavy showers of rain which occasionally fall while they assemble in this resting-place of the departed to join in hallowed services and listen to the word of life. At a little distance from the tent there is to be seen a fresh mound of earth that marks the spot underneath which lie the earthly remains of the faithful missionary, who passed only a few days ago within the vail, resting in hope of a glorious restirrection. When the stranger who has come to fill the place of their lamented pastor arrives upon the spot the tent is filled, and there is a crowd all around. All are arrayed in such mourning as they have been able to obtain, to testify respect for their departed minister ; some standing, others sitting upon stools and chairs they have' brought with them for the purpose. The morning is bright and beautiful, and the gentle sea-breeze fills the air with delicious coolness. The young missionary, as he steps to the place assigned to him near the opening of the tent where the books are placed upon the table, casts his eyes around, and regards it as the most interesting scene he has ever looked upon, notwithstanding the gloomy presentiment which has preoccupied his mind. As he surveys the multitude, after rising from his knees, he finds that all eyes are directed toward the new minister, the observed of all observers. They look upon the person of a stranger whom few of them have ever seen before but it is with a loving gaze. 464 Romance Without Fiction. That he is a minister of Christ, come to preach to them the great salvation, is sufficient to commend him to a warm place in their hearts. His face and figure are exceedingly juvenile, far below his years. No trace of hirsute growth appears, and the features are thin and pallid, as if emaciated by wasting fever. It is, however, only the aspect which his countenance ordinarily wears, though it serves to increase the startling effect of the preacher's first address to the mourning people around him : " Dear Christian friends, I am come this morning to preach Mr. Wood's funeral sermon, and I shall at the same time preach my own also." Strange feelings rushed through many hearts as they gazed upon that face, so different in its pale- ness and emaciation from the full, florid coun- tenance of the lamented one now slumbering close at hand in the silent grave. They wondered at the words of dark meaning that fell from those lips from which they were hoping to hear many times the enunciation of soul-quickening, truths that had been to many of them, in the midst of persecution and danger, life from the dead. But the service goes on. After the morning prayers have been read comes the hymn, the first stanza of which wakes up a world of mournful and glo- rious thoughts : " Hark ! a voice divides the sky ; Happy are the faithful dead ! " How these words thrill like a trumpet note through the souls of the hearers, lifting them at once to The Funeral Sermon. 465 that upper world where the ascended one has already united with the multitude brought out of great tribulation, who have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb, and are therefore before the throne of God ! While they sing the following lines, so inspiring, so full of triumphant joy, tears of gratitude roll down many a cheek as they an- ticipate the hour when they two shall enter there, and, "Mortals cry, '^A man is dead !' Angels sing, ' A child is born ! ' " Next a prayer is offered, then a hymn, and after that the sermon, founded upon Rev. xiv, 13 : "I heard a voice from heaven saying unto me. Write, Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord from henceforth : Yea, saith the Spirit, that they may rest from their labors ; and their works do follow them." At the close of the sermon the preacher gives a brief account of the religious history of the deceased minister; his conversion, religious character, and experience, and his triumphant death. "And I too," adds the speaker, "am come to die among you, and find my last rest- ing-place yonder by the side of your beloved pastor, who has so recently passed to our Fa- ther's house above ; " concluding several other rematKs upon the subject of his own speedy re- moval to the better land, with an earnest exhorta- tion to diligence in the Master's service, and with the prayer that all, both preachers and 466 Romance Without Fiction. hearers, might be found ready for the coming of the Lord. The hour for the afternoon service finds the young minister somewhat indisposed, so that it is deemed advisable for a local preacher to occupy his place in the sanctuary. As night comes on severe pains across the loins and a racking frontal headache, rendering it difficult to keep the eyes open, betoken the insidious approach of the fever, and warn the experienced nurses, who have already spontaneously gathered to take care of the minis- ter, as they are always wont to do when sickness enters the missionary household, that it is. not a slight attack with which the patient is threatened. A medical practitioner is summoned, and accord- ing to the mistaken ideas of medical practice which prevail, prejudicial to the safety of many a patient, copious draughts of blood are drained from a frame already too much debilitated for the fierce conflict with the terrible malady which seems to threaten. Powerful doses of calomel are also administered, more calculated to aid than to check the progress of the disease. Through a restless night the quick vacillating pulse, the dry, hot skin, and a quenchless thirst, tell with what powerful grasp the fever has laid hold upon the system. Blistering, bleeding, strong medicines are all powerless to arrest its progress, until about the fifth day, when the skin begins to exhibit the bright yellow hue which often proves to be a fatal symptom and the immediate fore- runner of death. It is this that has procured for The Funeral Sermon. 467 the particular type of fever, under which the patient is sinking, the designation of ' ' Yellow Jack," given to it by the British blue-jackets, a class of persons who have suffered fearfully from its ravages. From the first moment of its approach, the suf- ferer has declared that it is a sickness unto death, and resigned himself with patient faith to the issue, which he seems clearly to have seen before him. All that willing hands and loving hearts can do to relieve his sufferings, and soothe the anguish of the young wife who hangs over his bed in deep distress, is done ; but no favorable symptom is de- veloped. Unchecked, the dread disease goes on, drying up the springs of life, until it becomes too manifest to all around that the presentiment, so strongly felt and uttered, is about to be ful- filled. It has not been the offspring of fear, for there is none of the fear which hath torment ; no fear of dying marks that death-bed. It is not fear, but heaven-born joy and hope that spreads brightness over that pallid, sunken counte- nance. There is no fear, but the gladness of a triumphant faith in the words that issue from those parched and fevered lips, while the hands are lifted up toward heaven : " I know that my Redeemer liveth ; and I know and feel that He hath loved me and given himself for me." Nor is there any sign of fear in the tender, affection- ate tones in which he commends the loved wife of his youth, the wife of a few months only, and the unborn pledge of their wedded love, to the 30 468 Romance Without Fiction. ever-gracious One who has said, " A father of the fatherless, and a judge of the widows is God in his holy habitation." He has felt from the beginning that he came there to die ; but, like the great apostle, he feels, " For me to live is Christ, and to die is gain." And now that the dread king of terrors is approaching, in fearless faith and peaceful, joyous hope he rests his soul upon the Rock of Ages, and awaits the moment when his ransomed spirit, purified* from all defilement, shall pass through death triumphant home to God. More and more the heart of the young wife sinks in sorrow as the last fatal symptoms be- come unmistakably apparent, and the dreadful black vomit heralds the approach of death, until the sixth day, when the last faint accents, " Jesus my life ! Jesus is precious ! " pass the fever -blistered lips, leaving them closely sealed in death, and the glorified spirit enters the joy of its Lord. Only one short week has passed since the young missionary stood before that congregation for the first and last time, and gave utterance to the startling announcement that he came among them to die. And lo ! the presentiment has been fulfilled ! On the Sabbath evening, amid the tears of weeping hundreds, the grave opens to receive the fever victim. Two fresh mounds instead of one mark the missionaries' burial-place in the humble cemetery ; and the canvas tent, and the congregation that assemble The Funeral Sermon. 469 there, are again without a pastor. And two young widows, with suddenly blighted hopes, are left to feel how transitory and uncertain are even the purest and holiest joys associated with this dark vale of tears. " There all the ship's company meet, Who sail'd with the Saviour beneath ; With shouting each other they greet, And triumph o'er sorrow and death. The voyage of life's at an end ; The mortal affliction is past ; The age that in heaven they spend. For ever and ever shall last." 470 Romance Without Fiction. XXIV. A Mother's Dream. A mother's love, how sweet the name I What is a mother's love? A noble, pure, and tender flame. Enkindled from above To bless a heart of earthly mold ; The warmest love that can grow cold ; This is a mother's love. — Montgomekt. TRANGE and inexplicable are the fancies that frequently occupy the mind when all the outward senses are locked up in sleep ! Who can tell whence they come, or how they are caused ? It would be idle and foolish to attach undue importance to all the vain imaginations which crowd our sleeping hours. But it may not be denied, with the Bible in our hands, that God has sometimes seen it good to communicate with his creatures through the medium of dreams and visions of the night. (Job xxxiii.) Apart from the volume of inspiration many well- authenticated facts show that the wise and right- eous Governor of the universe still takes up the dreams of men into the arrangement of his prov- idence, and uses them for the accomplishment of his own purposes. Other dreams, in which it would be difficult to discover any thing of providen- tial design, become remarkable from the manner A Mother's Dream. 471 in which they are fulfilled. It is not, however, my purpose to write a dissertation on dreams, but merely to refer to one which at the time produced a powerful impression, and was, after the lapse of many years, remarkably verified. On my first missionary voyage to the isles of the west, upward of forty years ago, I was associated with C. W., a young man of about the same age as myself, who had been recommended and ac- cepted for the mission work from one of the Methodist districts in the west of England. He was of a mild, quiet disposition, and retiring in his habits. He had seen but little of the world, even less than most young men of his age, being re- strained by a fond, doting mother, to whom he was warmly attached, from every thing like free inter- course with other boys, and from sharing their sports and recreations. Carefully trained in the habit of attending upon the ordinances of religion in her own company, it was the great joy of the mother's life to see the boy she loved so devotedly yield himself up to the gracious influences and drawings of the Divine Spirit, and openly conse- crate his youthful affections and his life to his Saviour. The love of Christ had smoothed and brightened her owij lowly path for many years, through the cares and anxieties of domestic trial and the sorrow and loneliness of early widowhood. Deeply she felt her obligations to the Lord, and that no sacrifice she could make for him could be too great. But it became the great sorrow of her life when, after a severe and protracted struggle 4/2 Romance Without Fiction. between maternal love and duty to Christ and his cause, she was called upon to give up the cherished object of her heart's warmest affection, to go wherever the Head of the Church might assign to him a sphere of labor in the mission field, and bid him adieu, to behold his face no more on earth. She knew something of the deep anguish the venerable patriarch experienced when the strange command from heaven fell upon his ear : " Take now thy son, thine only son Isaac, whom thou lovest, and get thee into the land of Moriah ; and offer him there for a burnt offering upon one of the mountains which I will tell thee of." It was not more distressing to Abraham thus to part with his Isaac, than it was to the widowed mother to lay her only child upon the missionary altar. The bitter heart-trial had been endured. The last sad farewell had been pronounced with many tears, and the son of the widow was on his way to the isles of the west. Thither he was going, not in the pursuit of wealth, but to assist in filling up vacancies which the harassings of unrelenting persecutors, or the ravages of yellow fever, had created among the missionary laborers, who were there preaching the ever-blessed Gospel to the colored free population and the downtrodden slaves. In the midst of the wide Atlantic the progress of the ship is arrested by protracted calms. In vain the broad sails are spread to catch the breeze ; there is not a breath of air. An almost vertical sun pours down his fervent rays upon the vessel, A Mother s Dream. 473 melting the pitch that fills up the seams of her decks. Not a ripple is seen upon the water, which glistens smooth and shining like molten silver, and stretching to the distant horizon all around. The vessel rises and falls with a never-ending swell ; the canvas flaps to and fro with weary, monotonous sound, and it seems as if all nature had gone to sleep. A week passes away, and another week begins and ends, and there we lie, rolling and rock- ing in the same spot. The ships that we have scanned through our glasses many miles distant, day after day, still maintain the same relative position, immovable like ourselves, for lack of the favoring breeze to help them " on their course. We have watched the gambols of shoals of por- poises around the ship. We have seen the whales sporting in the distance ; sometimes rolling their huge carcases half way out of the water. Day after day our captain, dexterous in the use of the groins, has stood in the chains and made war upon the vast quantities of " bonito " that sported about the vessel, hoisting one large fish after another to the deck, until an abundant supply has been ob- tained for the ship's use for many days. The hungry shark has prowled around us, until, yield- ing at length to the temptation, he has greedily swallowed the large piece of pork thrown over- board to entrap him. But with it he has swallowed the treacherous hook, pointed and barbed, which, taking firm hold of his vitals, has enabled us to haul him on deck and finish him off there, taking care to keep from the powerful lashings of his 474 Romance Without Fiction. broad tail in the death agony. The Portuguese man-of-war, floating upon the surface of the calm sea, has been drawn up in a bucket, and subjected to minute inspection. Several mornings the sea has been found for miles covered in all directions with turtle, calmly sleeping upon the untroubled ocean. The ship's boats have been got out, and, with muffled oars, the sleepers have been noise- lessly approached, struck with the barbed groins, and hoisted into the boats. In many cases, how- ever, they took alarm, and went down for shelter in the unfathomable deep before we could come near to capture them. But the spoils of our turtle-hunting have been sufficient (between thirty and forty having been secured) to furnish an ample supply of turtle steaks and turtle soup, to vary and enrich our ample daily fare until the ship shall reach the end of her voyage. Still the calm continues. There is among the passengers, amounting to twenty-nine in all, a youthful medico, going to seek practice in Jamaica. There is also a nephew of Sir Andrew A., famous for his efforts in Parliament concerning the Sab- bath, and several other young men bound to the west to try chances with the yellow-fever and a planter's life. Yielding to the solicitations of his more youthful passengers, the good-natured cap- tain suffers those who are competent to go over- board, and have a swim about the bows of the ship ; lowering a boat, and suspending ropes over the sides and the bowsprit to insure the safety of the adventurers. To sport in the calm, placid sea for A Mother^ s Dream. 475 an hour affords enjoyment to the swimmers for several days, until a narrow escape from drowning on the part of the young medical gentleman in- duces the captain to put a veto upon this kind of amusement. Being but an indifferent swimmer, he had failed, when nearly exhausted, to catch hold of the rope hanging from the end of the bow- sprit, when a young Baptist missionary, who, as might be expected, was more at home in the water than his companions, swam to the rescue, and saved him as he was sinking. In these aquatic exercises the young missionary, C. W., took no part. When urged to do so he pleaded that he had never learned to swim. He had never in his life ventured into the water as other youths were accustomed to do, refraining from this in deference to his mother's wishes. Before the birth of her son she had a dream con- cerning him, in which he came to his death by drowning. This dream had so wrought upon her that, all through his childhood and youth, she had laid her commands upon him to abstain from tak- ing part in any of those amusements of boyhood, bathing, skating, etc., by which the fulfillment of her dream might possibly be brought about. In obedience to the wishes of his much-loved moth- er, he had never in his life ventured into or upon the water until the present voyage. He therefore contented himself with looking from the deck upon his fellow-voyagers as they sported in the calm deep waters, and swam to and fro about the bows of the vessels. 476 Romance Without Fiction, When seven weeks have sped, the Blue Mount- ains of Jamaica are seen lifting their summits to the clouds. The strong trade-wind fills the sails and urges on the ship, till, before the mid-day on a July Sabbath, Port Royal Point is rounded, and the loud rattle of the chain-cable, as the anchor descends, proclaims that the wearisome voyage is at an end. The three missionaries enter upon their work. The time of year is not, however, the most favor- able for doing so ; and, before two weeks have elapsed, one of them, (the Baptist,) cut down by yellow fever, sleeps in the dust. C. W., like my- self, has recovered from a similar attack to that which has borne our fellow-traveler to the grave ; but the fell disease has, for a season, greatly pros- trated all our energies. For three years and more my fellow-voyager has labored successfully in his hallowed vocation. The period of his probation is drawing to a close, and he is now looking, on the arrival of every mail, for the official letter that is to sanction his return to England for the purpose of taking to himself as partner for life the being dearer to him than all others upon earth, with whom he had exchanged pledges of betrothal before he gave himself to missionary work. Re- moved from the busy city, he, with another, a youthful colleague, occupies a station in the coun- try near the banks of the Rio Minto, commonly called Dry River. This name is given to it because during the dry season its waters are nearly, or al- together, dried up ; the broad, deep channel, A Mother's Dream. 477 overspread with vast masses of rock, bearing witness to the velocity and power of the torrent which fills it during the rainy seasons of the tropics. The two young missionaries share the same humble dwelling, as they divide between them the pastoral charge, with its large responsibilities, which frequent deaths in the missionary ranks have caused, somewhat prematurely, to devolve upon them. The younger of the two, who has only recently entered upon his work, is a young man of lively temperament, gay and sanguine; and he has succeeded in laughing and rallying his graver brother out of what he calls his " supersti- tious fear of the water." Both of them have, for some weeks past, been in the habit of repairing, on Saturday afternoon, to the neighboring river for the refreshment of a bath ; the water at the time running very low, and the stream being so small and shallow that an infant might bathe in it almost anywhere with perfect safety. Frequent indulgence in this refreshing exercise has completely dispelled the apprehensions which, from his childhood, had occupied the mind of C. W., and he finds great enjoyment in his weekly ablution. This has gone on for several months, when the younger of the two ministers is absent on the Saturday afternoon, having gone to supply the pulpit on the Sabbath in a distant Circuit. C. W. feels no hesitation in going alone to the river course to take his usual bath; and immediately after dinner, having informed the domestic whither 478 Romance Without Fiction. he was going, that he might be sent for if his pres- ence at home were required, he repairs to the customary spot. The afternoon passes away, and the young mis- sionary does not return. The evening has sped, and nine o'clock has struck, and the preparations for tea remain as they had been placed several hours before. Still the absent one has not made his appearance. The servant, who has been im- patiently awaiting the arrival of her master, becomes alarmed, and goes to hold a consultation with the inhabitants of several neighboring cot- tages. They at once share the alarm, for it is quite at variance with the minister's habits to be absent from home at so late an hour. It is sug- gested that he may have called upon one of the neighbors on his return from the river. But when ten o'clock comes and he fails to appear, several of them resolve to set out in search of him. It is bright moonlight, but they think it proper to carry lanterns with them. By this time the alarm has spread extensively among the scattered villagers, and a numerous party set out for the purpose of making inquiry at the several houses on the way, and inspecting the river course. No satisfactory tidings can be gained anywhere on the way. At length they reach the river, where they divide themselves into two parties, one to prose- cute the search up and the other down the stream. Before they are out of hearing, a loud shout from the party who have followed the downward course of the stream announces that some discovery has A Mother s Dream. 479 been made. Upon one of the large boulders in the river bed, some object, distinctly visible in the moonlight, has met their view. Arriving at the spot, they find this to be the clothes of the missing one ; leaving no doubt that some accident or evil has befallen him. The idea of drowning does not occur to them ; for it does not seem possible that any person could meet such a fate in the little in- significant stream that runs murmuring beside them, dwindled by the prevailing drought to the merest rivulet. A second shout from one of the party who has advanced a few yards beyond his fellows soon announces a further discovery. Rushing to the spot, they discover the object of their search lying in a small pool, in which the water is barely deep enough to cover the body. Life is quite extinct, for the body has been lying with the head under water for some hours, and the youthful servant of God has, unexpectedly to himself and all around him, been called away to his eternal rest. His premature death under such circumstances, and in such a place, could be accounted for only on the supposition that an apoplectic seizure had sud- denly paralyzed his energies as he was bathing in the little pool — perhaps too early after partaking of a hearty meal. Falling powerless in the water, with his head just submerged in the shallow stream, he had been suffocated, no help being at hand. Great is the sorrow of the simple-hearted people to whom he ministered the word of life when they find themselves thus suddenly bereaved 480 Romance Without Fiction. of the young pastor, who had greatly endeared himself to them by his faithful counsels and lov- ing, gentle manners. This sorrow is greatly ag- gravated when in one short week the intelligence comes to them that the colleague of the deceased, their other younger pastor, has followed his friend and brother to the spirit-land. In the distant cir- cuit whither he had gone to preach, the yellow fever had seized upon him after leaving the pulpit on the Sabbath evening. The best medical aid had been summoned ; but in three short days, in the prime of vigorous, youthful manhood, this promising servant of the Lord closed his eyes on earthly scenes and passed within the vail. Thus are the sorrowing people doubly bereaved, and most strangely, yet truly, after the lapse of nearly thirty years, the mother's dream has been fulfilled. The Old Sanctuary. 481 XXV. The Old Sanctuary The man of God Took up the consecrated bread, and brake, And gave the happy saint. " Take this," he srfd, " In dear remeuibiance of thy dying Lord, His body given for thee, and in thy heart Feed thou on him with thankfulness." Then took The cup. '-Drink this," he said, "and may the blood Which once for thee was shed, preserve thy soul And body to eternal life." To each Some word of comfort spake he, as to each He gave the sacred symbols. Unto all That sanctuary seemed the very gate of heaven. Me3. C. L. Eiob. JHE Sabbath dawns, but not with the usual brightness of the tropics. It is one of those mornings, frequent enough in the changea- ble climates of northern countries, but not often seen among the sunny isles of the Caribbean Sea, The sky wears a leaden hue, and the whole firma- ment is obscured with thick clouds. The range of the Blue Mountains, usually so bright and beautiful in the rays of the morning sun, is not to be seen. A thick, drizzling rain is falling, the at- mosphere is chilly, and all is dark and gloomy. Every street leading toward the harbor has be- come a river course, through which rolls a deep, rapid stream of muddy water, showing that the rain is falling heavily in the lofty mountains which 482 Romance Without Fiction. form the background of the picture when the city of Kingston is surveyed from the harbor, or from the sea outside of " the palisades " by which the harbor is inclosed. The few persons to be seen moving about are closely wrapped in the thickest and warmest cloth- ing they possess, for it is one of those mornings which seem to paralyze the energies of the dark- skinned Creoles, and render them almost incapable of any exertion. It is strange to see so many persons in the streets in such stormy weather ; but they are hastening to the class-meeting, which is always held on Sunday morning at six o'clock. Some hundreds are thus accustomed to assemble with their leaders, that they may speak to one an- other concerning their experience in the things of God, and receive the counsel their various states demand to direct and cheer them in their pilgrim- age to the skies. There would not be so many, but that it is the last Sabbath morning on which they are to be privileged with the opportunity of meeting to- gether in that old sanctuary toward which their footsteps are tending. This has been to not a few of them their birthplace for eternal life. Thither they have for years gone up in company to take sweet counsel, and there they have wor- shiped God and listened to the words of eternal life. The dense gloom of the morning is in sym- pathy with the feelings of hundreds in that city, for the thought to them is very mournful that the dear old house, so sacred to their thoughts, is soon The Old Sanctuary. 483 to be taken down. To many it is the dearest spot on earth, around which cluster the most thrilling and cherished memories of their lives. After this day has passed they will worship within those hal- lowed walls no more. Tears glisten in the eyes of many who, through the chilling rain, are trudg- ing to the much-loved spot. Coke Chapel stands on the east side of a large square which forms the center of the city of King- ston. The square is several hundred yards in ex- tent either way, and is adorned with some of the finest buildings that enrich the city. Were it under better management it might be made both pleasant and beneficial to the inhabitants. In a prominent position, at the corner of one of the principal streets, stands the building which bears the name of the venerated founder of the Wesleyan missions in the West Indies — Dr. Coke. It is, however, more frequently designated by the peo- ple " the Parade Chapel," the fine square upon which it looks being used as the parade-ground for the city militia. The old chapel is not very imposing in its appearance, for it is marked by no ecclesiastical peculiarity to distinguish it as a place devoted to religious worship. It was originally the mansion of a wealthy citizen, but early after the commencement of the mission in Jamaica the good doctor, full of zeal for Christ and for souls, ob- tained possession of it by purchase, not sparing to give largely of his own property, that this house might be consecrated to God and the proclama- tion of his saving truth. It was the first Methodist 31 484 Romance Without Fiction, sanctuary devoted to God in this land, Aviiere the Head of the Church had a large harvest of precious souls to be gathered into his garner. The house was spacious and lofty, the lower story affording accommodation for the mission families, while the upper part was converted into a com- modious chapel. For about half a century this house has been in use as a Christian sanctuary, when our story com- mences, and many have been born to glory here. Beneath the roof several missionary servants of Christ have triumphantly finished their useful course and passed within the vail. More than one has been dragged away from hence to a gloomy prison cell, charged with the crime of having taught poor slaves the truth as it is in Jesus, and endeavoring to lighten the hardship of their lot by inspiring them with the bright hopes and con- solations of the Gospel. For seven long years the sanctuary was closed by the intolerance of the municipal authorities, who vainly sought to extinguish, in this way, the spreading light of Divine truth, and put a stop to the work of God. By patient endurance and perseverance, and a firm reliance upon their Master's promises, the missionaries triumphed ; the soul-saving work went on, and the enemies of the truth were bafiled. Now the time has come when the old sanctuary may no longer be used. Some of the timbers have yielded to the influence of time, and exhibit symp- toms of decay ; and, in spite of all the care that The Old Sancttiary. 485 has been exercised, those destructive insects, the wood ants, which eat out the substance of the heaviest timbers, leaving only a thin outward shell to deceive the eye, have done their work upon the building, and it is considered unsafe that crowds of people should continue to assemble in a tene- ment so frail. Besides this, extended accommo- dations is required, for the work of the Lord has greatly prospered. Thousands have been made wise unto salvation on that spot. A large and handsome chapel has been erected in another part of the city, and a numerous congregation and so- ciety have been drafted off from this, the parent Church ; yet the old house will scarcely contain- two thirds of the communicants who are attached to it. The necessity is urgent ; but multitudes mourn over the approaching demolition of their beloved house as if it were a grievous calamity. A better and more commodious edifice may be substituted for it, but no building on earth can ever be so dear to them. As the hour for the forenoon service draws near the rain ceases, and the place is crowded in every part. Numbers have traveled all night over the mountains and through the rain, twenty, thirty, and some nearly forty miles, fording the mountain torrents and braving the inclemency of the weather, that they may be present at the closing services of that dear old chapel and offer their prayer for the last time beneath that hallowed roof. Many hearts go out toward God in earnest desire ; for though forms of prayer are used, they are not 486 Romance Without Fiction, uttered by mere formal worshipers. It is not prayer without desire, like an altar without a sacrifice, or the sacrifice without the fire from heaven to con- sume it, that is oiTered there. It is the language of devotion ; the breathing out of the soul to God. The preliminary part of the services over, then comes the sermon ; and many a sob breaks the . silence of that devotional hour, and streams of tears roll down many cheeks, while the preacher dwells upon those words, so expressive of the heart-feeling of all around him : " Lord, I have loved the habitation of thy house, and the place where thine honor dwelleth." Psalm xxvi, 8, There are hundreds there who feel as Jacob felt at Bethel when Jehovah manifested himself in such wondrous grace and condescension : " This is none other but the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven." The morning exercise is ended, and some of the congregation depart to their homes. But a large number remain ; for after a brief interval the last love-feast is to be held under that roof, occu- pying several hours of the afternoon. At the ap- pointed time the same missionary who conducted the forenoon service again ascends the pulpit. Not only is every available foot of space occupied, but hundreds are unable to gain admission ; for numbers who have been drafted off to form other Churches are there. The spot is dear to them all, and the occasion is one in which they are pro- foundly interested. Sweet and powerful are the The Old Sanctuary. 487 strains in which that large congregation of Church- members encourage each other to " Antedate the joys above, Celebrate the feast of love." The presiding minister offers the preliminary prayer; then bread and water are passed round, and all eat and drink together as members of the same family, the same household of faith, and the children of the same heavenly Father. Born of God, passed from death unto life, they are looking forward with hope and joy to the period when, within the vail, they shall pluck the am- brosial fruits and drink the vivifying streams of that upper Paradise, and be happy together with him forever and ever. Thanksgiving made for the earthly food and comfort, and the collection taken for the poor of the Church, some of them speak their experience of the things of God, in accordance with ancient practice and those scriptural precepts which ad- monish Christian believers to exhort one another, and make confession with their lips unto salvation, declaring to those who fear God what he hath done for their souls. It might cause the skeptic to doubt the truth of his own carnal reasonings, it might shame the arrogance and pride of the anthro- pological traducer of man's noble and immortal nature, to witness the moral elevation which re- ligion has imparted to many in that assembly, and listen to their statements. Rising sometimes into strains of lofty and powerful eloquence, these sable 488 Romance Without Fiction. men and women tell of what God and religion have done for them. Yet these are represented by nar- row-souled bigots of fairer complexion, too blind to see the broad line of demarcation which sepa- rates man in all his varieties from the brute, as nearly allied to the ape and the gorilla. Brought up out of the lowest condition of life by God's blessing upon missionary labor, they shine gems of immortality, flashing with the light of intellect and glowing with Christian graces, possessing, and manifesting that lofty capacity, which of all this lower creation belongs to man alone, the power to know, and love, and enjoy God. The presiding minister first relates God's gra- cious dealings with himself. When a thoughtless youth, he was induced to attend a Sabbath even- ing service in a Methodist place of worship in one of the midland counties of England. The word impressed his conscience and his heart, and he was led to seek and find mercy through faith in Christ. He then felt constrained to devote the residue of his life to the service of the Lord. God had providentially opened his way into the mission work, and in times of persecution inter- posed to save him from the violence of wicked and unreasonable men. " Oft from the margin of the grave The Lord had lifted up his head ; Present he found Him near to save, The fever own'd His touch and fled." And now the supreme desire of his heart is to spend and to be spent for God, faithful to the The Old Sanctjmry. 489 great work committed to him, so that he may fin- ish his course with joy, and the ministry which he has received of the Lord Jesus. When he finishes many rise to speak ; but the preference is accorded to an old man, for all sit down at once when they see that Father Harris is upon his feet. He is a venerable man. More than eighty years have bleached that snow-white head, and he displays a fine African countenance, bearing traces of considerable intelligence. In a voice clear and distinct, though slightly tremulous, he tells that he was born in North America, and took part in the revolutionary struggle on the los- ing side. He then came to Jamaica, preferring to live under the British flag. He had heard about Jesus, and became the subject of religious feelings among the colored Baptists in America ; but it was not until Dr. Coke visited Jamaica in 1789, and there proclaimed the truth, that he clearly apprehended the way of salvation by faith in Christ Jesus. He came to the cross as a guilty sinner, and obtained pardon and the soul-renewing power by which he was made a child of God, the Holy Spirit bearing witness with his spirit that he had passed from death unto life. "1 was happy then," says the old saint, " and, though it is fifty years ago, I have been happy ever since ; and I am happy in Christ now, dear friends, and I feel that I shall soon be happy with him forever in that better land " Where all the ship's company meet, Who sailed with the Saviour beneath." 490 Romance Without Fiction. He tells how gladly he stepped forward when Dr. Coke invited those to do so who were desir- ous of giving themselves up to God, and he was the second of eight persons then enrolled who formed the first Methodist Society in the land." " It was a little Church, minister," he says, lifting his eyes to the pulpit, " and formed in troublous times ; but " — looking round upon the vast num- ber of faces that were turned toward him, and waving his hand — " bless the Lord ! the little one has become thousands, and God will make it greater yet." He then resumed his seat. .There is a pause, and all eyes are directed to- ward an elderly woman seated near the center of the chapel. There are hundreds who would like to speak, but all seem instinctively to feel that precedence should be given to Mother Wilkinson, who, with Father Harris, forms the only remnant of the original Methodist Society in Jamaica estab- lished by Dr. Coke on his first visit to the colony. " Mother Wilkinson, the congregation waits for you to speak." She rises in response to this call; a venerable, happy-looking old woman, a little tremulous with age, but dressed with scrupulous neatness. A broad-brimmed straw hat, with a narrow black ribbon around it, surmounts the handkerchief with which, according to the pre- vailing custom of her class, her head is adorned, folded to the resemblance of a turban. She is a mulatto, sharing equally the African and European blood. But the swarthy countenance, though bearing marks of advanced age, is beautiful with The Old Sanctuary. 491 the peace of God radiant in every feature. Her tale is simple but heart-thrilling, and tears drop from many eyes as she relates her history of the past. She had heard of God as the Maker of the heavens and the earth, and greatly she wondered where and what he was, and how she could get to know more about him. None had taught her, none cared to teach her, the difference between right and wrong, and what was good and what evil. She had not been taught to read, and her mind was a blank. But as she folded her children to her bosom, she often felt her heart strangely moved by earnest desires to know something about God. When Dr. Coke came she was told that a strange gentleman was going to talk to the people about religion, and she took one child by the hand and another at her breast, and went and listened to that first sermon. She did not under- stand much that was said, for she was very igno- rant ; but her heart melted, and her eyes shed abundant tears. She felt that she was a miserable sinner, and she went home and prayed to God, as the minister had directed them to do. ' The next evening she went again, and, as the minister was speaking about Christ loving sinners and dying to save them, she felt that God had pardoned her, and that her soul was unspeakably happy, as it never had been before. When the minister spoke of forming a Society, and invited those who were determined to live to God and flee from the wrath to come, she went forward and gave in her name. For more than fifty years the Lord 492 Romance Without Fiction. had kept her by his grace, and she was looking soon to join the friends who had gone before and arrived safe at home. Referring to the persecu- tions of past years, she speaks of " the seven years* famine of the word," as she expresses it, when the city magistrates shut up the chapel and sent the ministers to prison, setting the constables to watch that there should be no singing and prayer in any of the houses of those who belonged to the Soci- ety. She then goes on to describe with exquisite pathos how, in those dark days, many a little social gathering of praying souls took place in inner rooms and upper chambers. Class-meetings were held after dark in the church-yard, where the peo- ple were afraid to go at night, except those who went to pray among the tombs, and in many other strange places. For seven years she met the class of which she had been made leader in the open street. At five o'clock in the morning she walked through an appointed street — changed from week to week — and there, at short distances apart, she would find her members, sometimes two together, sometimes singly, so as not to attract malignant observation. There she would hold Christian converse with them, and give them such counsel and encouragement as they required. When the chapel was re- opened at the end of seven years, her class had grown, in spite of opposition, to three times its former number, and the members of Society had increased, so that the whole of them could not get into the chapel when a Society meeting was held. The Old Sanctuary. 493 The next that rises is a young man of fair com- plexion, not to be distinguished from a white man, except by an eye practised in observing the sev- eral gradations and distinctions of color. He is of the class ranking next to those who are " white by law," having only a sixteenth portion of African blood in his veins. His dress, appearance, and manners are those which pertain to polished soci- ety. He is a member of the Colonial Legislature, well educated, and bearing the reputation of being one of the most finished gentlemen in the land, and of a most generous and obliging disposition. He speaks of a godly mother, now slumbering in the dust, who was one of the excellent of the earth, and, until she was removed to heaven in the prime of life, a pattern of all Christian excellence. He tells how she taught him to bow the knee in prayer, and administered those loving counsels which tended to check the frivolities of thought- less youth ; and how she led him habitually to the house of prayer, where the word of life reached his conscience and his heart, and was made to him the wisdom of God and the power of God to salvation. He speaks in a shrill but not unpleas- ant tone, and with great freedom and power, in well-chosen words, which sufficiently explain why he is so much of a favorite as a local preacher. Hundreds of hearts are touched, and there are suppressed sobs over that whole congregation as he speaks of the influence exerted upon him by the counsels and prayers of that loving mother. Many there knew her well, and venerated her for 494 Romance Without Fiction. the virtues that adorned her character, and as one of the polished pillars of the Church. When this speaker has resumed his seat, one rises who has been the chosen bosom friend of that godly mother, and who rejoices with exceed- ing joy that the fond wishes of her heart concern- ing her much-loved son are fulfilled. The speaker is of queenly presence, now past the prime and bloom of youthful womanhood, but still retaining a large portion of the grace and beauty by which she was distinguished when, with her clear olive complexion, gazelle-like eye, and faultless figure, she outshone the fairest beauties of the land. She is in every sense a noble woman, enriched and adorned with all Christian virtues in an eminent degree. Like her Master, to whom she has fully devoted herself, she goes about doing good, con- secrating her time and energies to his service. Hundreds have, through her agency, been led into the path of eternal life. Her power in prayer is great, and on such occasions as the present she speaks with a lofty and commanding eloquence that rivets the attention of the hearers. She tells how her sympathies were awakened toward the Methodists when the missionaries were imprisoned and the chapel was closed. She knew of many slave members of the Society who were subjected to cruel treatment by their owners because they persisted in going, whenever they could seize the opportunity, to join in the services of the Method- ists. This led her to think there must be more in the religion of the persecuted people than she The Old SaJictiiary. 495 had supposed, and in the midst of her gay life she was drawn powerfully toward them. Invited by one of the class-leaders, she attended several of the meetings held in secret, and her heart bowed down under a sense of her guiltiness and danger as a sinner before God. She at once re- solved to abandon the gayeties and frivolities in which she was wasting her life, and cast in her lot with the oppressed, choosing, like Moses, to suffer affliction with the people of God rather than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season. She had opposition and much ridicule and reproach to en- counter ; but she regarded none of these things, for her soul was bowed down under the painful sense of the wrath of God abiding on her ; and she could care for nothing else, until the Lord took compassion upon her, and set her soul at liberty by his victorious love. Then she was too happy to care what any around her might think or say about her going mad for religion. To all who re- proach and cast ridicule and scorn upon her she would say, " Come thou with us, and we will do thee good.' Religion has put her in posses- sion of a happiness far above any of the pleas- ures and enjoyments of the world in which she reveled for years. She only fancied that she was happy then, and only for a few moments at a time, when mingling in the dance and mixed up with the gay and thoughtless lovers of pleasure like herself, to be cast down and sor- rowful when it was over. But now she is happy day and night. 496 Romance Without Fiction. ' My Redeemer to know, To feel his blood flow, This is life everlasting — ' 'tis heaven below.' " She rejoiced with great joy when " the seven years' night *' ended, and she could go up to the Lord's house, Sabbath after Sabbath, and join in the worship of the Lord. This has now become dearer to her, and the source of deeper joy, than the resorts of pleasure ever were. To hear the life-giving word, which had made her wise unto salvation, and by which her soul was nourished and strengthened unto life eternal, this was happiness indeed ! She has lived to see mother, sisters, and children brought into the Church, and made par- takers of the same glorious hopes. She cannot but mourn over the thought that the hallowed place, where many a blessed foretaste of heaven has been realized, will shortly be no more ; but she rejoices in the prospect of the larger house being erected which has so long been greatly needed. She rejoices still more in the hope, which seems to make her soul expand within her, of the incorruptible " building of God — the house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens." The effect of this thrilling tale has been very pow- erful. It has been delivered with a simple grace and eloquence that stirred the holiest sympathies of the listeners, and all glorify the grace of God in her which has transformed her, the admired votary of fashion, into the humble follower of Jesus. Ministers and people respect and honor her as one of the most devoted and useful mem- The Old Sanctuary. 497 bers of the Church, abundant in labors and ready for every good work. Next is heard the voice of another female mem- ber of the Church. She has risen with several others; but the presiding minister pronounces her name, and all the others resume their seats. She is a pattern of neatness and simplicity in her ap- pearance ; one who has attained the ripeness of middle age, and is pre-eminently a woman of meek and quiet spirit. Her complexion is that of the quadroon, and her fine placid countenance is an illustration of " the beauty of holiness ; " for through every feature beams " the peace of God, which passeth all understanding." Her tale is one of pathetic simplicity; and as she relates it in a quiet tone and with a natural eloquence, far more impressive than the most studied oratory, many hearts are moved to ascribe glory to Him who shows such abundant mercy to sinners. She speaks of the time when she was a slave ; for she was born to the inheritance of a British bondwoman. But it was her good fortune to be the property of a mis- tress who possessed, among many excellent and amiable qualities, a kindly disposition toward her slaves, and she, the quadroon girl, was her favorite attendant. It was a sore grievance to the kind- hearted and well-meaning mistress when her maid, unfortunately in her view, got among the Methodists, and adopted what she thought to be their strange and erroneous views of religion. So it was, and it occurred in this way. It was the duty of the quadroon girl to follow her mistress to 498 Romance Without Fiction. the parish churcli: but on her way thither she had to pass the Parade chapel, and she heard the congregation singing. It was very sweet, and quite different from any singing she had ever heard before. She had been told a good deal about these Methodist people, and she thought she would turn in and hear a little for herself before going on to the church, which was near at hand ; and her mistress would know nothing about it. After the singing the minister prayed, and she felt wrought upon as she had never been before. Then came another hymn, and after that the text : " Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters," etc. Every word of the sermon that followed seemed to be addressed to her ; she wondered who could have told the minister so much about the poor quadroon girl. The church, her mistress, and all else were forgotten ; all lost sight of in the dread- ful conviction that she was a very great sinner, and in danger of being lost forever. After the service was finished she sat still, weeping bitterly. One of the good old class-leaders came and asked her why she wept. She answered, " O, I am a very wicked sinner ! " and the old leader replied, " My dear, that is very true, and I thank God he has made you to feel it, but Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, and you are one of the very persons he invites to come to him and be saved." She then invited her to the class-meeting, where she heard the experience of others, and re- ceived the aid of Christian counsel and prayer. But she went home burdened and heavy laden, TJie Old Sanctuary. 499 and weeping bitterly. Her mistress was greatly displeased that the Methodists had spoiled her favorite slave, and she wondered, as she saw her weeping and mourning all the week, " what those people could have done to Sarah." The next Sabbath the girl begged to be excused going to church, and asked permission to go to the chapel. The mistress resisted her entreaty for avv^hile; but when she saw that Sarah wept more bitterly, and was in very^ great distress, she left her to take her own course. The sermon was, she thought, all addressed to her ; and she was encouraged to hope that, great sinner as she was, God would have mercy upon her. The minister explained the text, " Behold, what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us, that we should be called the sons of God." John iii, i. She was still much bowed down with a sense of guilt and the wickedness of her own heart. But during the class-meeting, while the members were earnestly pleading with God in prayer for her, the love of God was shed abroad in her heart, and she was made exceedingly happy ; for she felt the inward wit- ness that she had passed from death unto life and become a child of God. The mistress won- dered still more than before, when she saw this great change in her slave. Instead of weeping and mourning, as she had done all the preceding week, the girl was now happy and joyous. Her very countenance was altered : God's peace and love had spread over it an expression of cheerful- ness it had never worn before, and the ladv 32 500 Romance Without Fiction. " could not think what those Methodists had been doing with Sarah." But she learned the secret afterward. Sarah, always her favorite among her slaves, became dearer to her than ever ; and she also was deeply attached to the kind mistress who had treated her with so much indulgence. This kindness found its reward, for it was the quadroon slave that led her to Christ, and taught her the way of salvation ; it was the quadroon slave, whose voice she loved to hear in prayer at her own bed- side, and in singing the hymns that lifted her soul to heaven ; it was she who brought her own mis- sionary minister to speak to her beloved mistress of Jesus and heaven as she lay on the bed of sickness ; it was she who sympathized with the peace and triumph of that mistress's happy death- bed ; and when the rejoicing spirft passed from earth, she closed the eyes of the dead. When all was over, she found that she was no longer a slave. The grateful mistress had bequeathed to the quad- roon girl freedom from bondage, and something to aid her in her future life. Thus unexpectedly she had found that " godliness is profitable for all things, having promise of the life that now is, and of that which is to come." Another speaker carries back the thoughts of the congregation to the time when Mr. Bradnack was the minister. He was one who loved the little children. She belonged to " the rising gen- eration class," and under his care and instruction the Lord opened her heart, as he had done with Lydia, and sweetly drew her to himself while she The Old Sattctuary. 501 was quite a girl. Though she had passed through great troubles, and had mourned the loss of her husband and all her children, God having taken them to himself, she hopes to find them all again. " Up there, my minister," she says, pointing up- ward with her hand ; " they are all up there. They were all brought to Jesus and died happy, and I shall find them up there, with many dear friends who have crossed over Jordan before me." The minister, who listened with tearful eyes to that simple tale of redeeming grace, has often thought, with profound interest, of the expression used by that unsophisticated child of Africa, " The Lord opened my heart as he had done with Lydia." Religion did indeed open her heart, for she was, though in humble circumstances, a liberal giver to every good cause. Several years later that minis- ter had to appeal to the liberality of the Church to restore a large and beautiful sanctuary which had been nearly destroyed by fire. When it came to the turn of her class — for she was a very useful and devoted class-leader — to be spoken to on this subject, the appeal was first made to her: "Well, Sister F., what can you afford to give to help in restoring the chapel ? " She very quietly placed on the table a bank-note for twenty-four dollars, (^5,) saying, " That is my mite, minister." Know- ing the circumstances of the donor, and surprised at the amount, the minister said, " Can you give so much without inconvenience } You know it is not required to be paid all at once, but in three yearly installments, and perhaps that will be more 502 Romance Without Fiction. convenient to you than to pay it all now." "No, minister, that money is the Lord's. I put it by for him, and he must have it. He gives me all I want. Besides, minister, I don't expect to live three years, and it would be a sad thing if I should die owing my Lord any part of that money when I am able to give it to him now." Before the repairs of the injured building were com- pleted, before the year had expired, that minister stood beside the open grave of that devoted woman. She had passed away, in glorious tri- umph over death, to find the loved ones that had gone before to the happy spirit-land. It was with solemn, chastened joy that he joined the multi- tude assembled to do honor to the memory of a mother in Israel in singing " Give glory to Jesus, our Head, With all that encompass his throne ; A widow, a widow indeed, A mother in Israel is gone ! The winter of trouble is past, The storms of affliction are o'er ; Her struggle is ended at last. And sorrow and death are no more." When she has taken her seat other speakers follow, and the minister has always to select one from several who rise at the same time to tell what the Lord has done for their souls. A glorious testimony is borne by many happy witnesses to the riches of divine grace, and the enlightening, saving power of the Gospel of Christ. That hal- The Old Sanctuary. 503 lowed spot has been the spiritual birthplace of nearly al of them, for it is there they heard the truth that has made them wise unto salvation, '* being born again, not of corruptible seed, but of incorruptible, by the word of God which liveth and abideth forever." And many more would bear the same testimony if opportunity could be given The time has long passed when the meet- ing should have been closed, but numbers rise up each time that a speaker sits down. When less than half an hour remains before the time for commencing the evening public service, the min- ister has to make the announcement, while a dozen, at least, are on their feet as candidates for the next opportunity to be heard, that the love-feast must now be closed. The singing of a hymn and a brief prayer terminate one of the most interest- ing services, and certainly the most memorable love-feast he has ever witnessed. He has only a few moments to spend in the privacy of his study, and to partake of a slight refreshment, before he again presents himself in the pulpit to conduct the last religious service that is to be held within those walls. On the morrow the premises are to be given up to the contractor for the new building which is to oc- cupy the same site. A large concourse of people is gathered all around the place, in addition to the crowd within, for the communion service is to close the day, and the members of the Methodist Churches have gathered from many parts to be present on this occasion. All are anxious to share 504 Romance Without Fiction. in the last administration of the Lord's Supper in that holy place, where they have so often realized the presence and blessing of the Church's living Head, and received the instruction which tendeth to life. By a private staircase underneath the pulpit, and communicating with the household apartments on the ground floor, the minister upon whom the services for the day have devolved again ascends to his place, to commence the closing serv- ice in that birthplace of many souls. Appropriate to the occasion is that beautiful composition of Charles Wesley's, which the preacher selects as the opening hymn : — " See how great a flame aspires, Kindled by a spark of grace." Sweet and full is the volume of sound with which tuneful voices give expression to its glowing and triumphant strains, the whole of that vast congre- gation making melody in their hearts unto the Lord, and singing with the spirit and with the understanding also. Prayer follows the hymn of praise, and the hearts of many go with the words of the minister as, leading them up to the Divine footstool, he supplicates that the blessing of the Church's living Head may be given to crown the present, and influence the future even more abun- dantly than it has been vouchsafed in the past. The thirty-seventh psalm is read, and another hymn of praise rises up to the Divine throne, the loving homage of grateful hearts to the Giver of all good. The Old Sanctuary. 505 When the sound has died away, and the con- gregation have settled down into as much quietude as the density of the crowd, filling every available spot, will permit, the text is announced — i Sam. vii, 12: "Then Samuel took a stone, and set it between Mizpeh and Shen, and called the name of it Eben-ezer, saying. Hitherto hath the Lord helped us." Reviewing the history of the past, the preacher goes back to the time when scarcely a ray of light pierced the thick darkness that over- spread these beautiful colonics of the west, and the thousands of the injured children of Africa who were shut out from the light of Divine truth and the hopes of life and immortality inspired by the Gospel. No man in those days cared for their souls, or stretched out a hand to lighten the cruel burden of oppression that was heaped upon them. He dwells upon the operations and manifestations of a beneficent, wise, and wonder-working Provi- dence in sending the missionary to their help. He sketches the condition of things as they ex- isted when the only ministers of religion in those lands were slaveholders and slave-oppressors, deeply sunk, like others around them, in deprav- ity and vice. He speaks of the time when a few miserable erections, dignified with the name of parish churches, were only opened occasionally at the pleasure or convenience of the depraved incum- bents, and were often closed for weeks and months together, when scarcely the name of religion was known among the people ; the Sabbath day was 5o6 Romance Without Fiction. forgotten, or only remembered to be devoted to unrestrained riot and debauch by the planters, and unblushing licentiousness overspread the land. He goes back to the period when, in compassion to the miseries of hundreds of thousands of Afri- ca's children languishing in slavery and moral night under the proud flag of Britain, the Divine Head of the Church first put it into the heart of a planter and slaveholder, made wise unto salvation under the ministry of Mr. Wesley, to introduce the truth as it is in Jesus to the denizens of these western isles. He tells how, in answer to prayer, Jehovah, by a wonderful interposition of his provi- dence, drove Dr. Coke and a band of missionary laborers, by tempestuous weather, far out of their intended course, and brought them to the scene of labor he had prepared for them and designed them to occupy, and they, recognizing the hand of the Lord in bringing them by a way they knew not, and, contrary to all their purposes and wishes, to a field of toil they had never thought of, entered zealously upon the work which invited them, and proceeded from one colony to another, lifting up the banner of the cross, and planting Christian Churches, until in due time they reached "the land of springs," and proclaimed the Gospel there. Listening ears and eager hearts take in the story as the preacher speaks of Dr. Coke's arrival in Jamaica on the 19th of February, 1789, bringing light to them that were sitting in darkness, and, as the sequel proved, the opening of the prison- The Old Sanctuary. 507 doors to those who were in bondage, both tem- poral and spiritual. He speaks of the way in which God put it into the hearts of some to afford facilities for the preaching of the truth, and how from the first it was the wisdom of God and the power of God to the salvation of them that heard it — souls being awakened and brought to God. He tells of persecutions commencing with the be- ginning of the mission, and how God gave peace for a season by smiting down one of the leading oppressors suddenly to the grave in the midst of his evil doings, an event which many there re- member well. He refers to the men of God, well known to not a few of the congregation, who, for preaching the truth, were immured in the dun- geons of Kingston and Morant Bay. He carries them back to the closing of the chapel by a per- secuting municipal law for seven years, during which no voice of praise or prayer, no proclama- tion of saving truth, was heard within those hal- lowed walls. Hundreds of thoughtful hearts respond as he dwells upon the prosperity and increase of the persecuted Church, showing how in the dark days, when persecution was triumph- ant, and the lips of faithful ministers were silenced, the Divine Spirit wrought powerfully in many hearts, awakening and convincing of sin, and de- positing there the seed of immortal life, so that the down-trodden Church grew abundantly in spiritual life and energy. Many in the congre- gation were brought to God at that time. He sketches, in vivid description, the combina- 5o8 Romance Without Fiction. tions of slaveholding intolerants to extinguish the spreading light of Jehovah's saving truth by the enactment of oppressive laws, filled with the cun- ning and subtlety of the old Serpent. Under the pretext of ameliorating the condition of the poor plundered slave, these malignant acts were de- signed to enhance the wretchedness and hopeless- ness of his lot by shutting him up in ignorance of God and of salvation, depriving him of all oppor- tunity of hearing the truth which could make him wise to salvation, and gladden his spirit in the deep debasement of his bondage with the glorious prospects of immortality and the better life above. He then, with joyous gratitude to Him that sits upon the throne, and controls and directs all events of earth — " by whom kings reign and princes decree justice " — describes how the un- hallowed purposes of the persecutors were baffled from time to time by God putting it into the heart of the reigning sovereign to disallow those intol- erant laws, by withholding that royal assent which was necessary to give them validity and perma- nence. He refers to the scene which those around him witnessed only a few months before, when all over the land thousands were gathered at the midnight hour in the sanctuaries of Jehovah to celebrate the final extinction of slavery, and to receive, as it were, from the Divine hand, the precious boon of freedom. Then they beheld thousands kneel down with all the restrictions of civil bondage upon them, and rise up again in a few minutes the The Old Sanctuary. 509 free subjects of the British crown. He reminds therh of the joy which thrilled through many- hearts when they heard, in the sonorous tone of the adjacent church bell, as it rang out the mid- night hour, the death-knell of the system. And he brings back again, as it were, the scene of weeping, wondrous excitement that met theic view while the newly-emancipated multitude that thronged the chapel then sang, in strains only to be surpassed in sublimity and beauty by the chorus of the skies, " Send the glad tidings o'er the sea ; His chain is broke, the slave is free. Britannia's justice, wealth, and might. Have gained the negro's long-lost right. His chain is broke, the slave is free: This is the negro's jubilee ! " From all these things the preacher brings forth illustrations of the text, and shows how the good hand of the Lord has been with the mission through all its history, arranging and overruling events, even the most adverse, to wise and gra- cious issues, fulfilling his own glorious promise, " All things work together for good to them that love God." He pictures to them the fierce and fiery perse- cution through which the mission has been passing more recently. He tells of sanctuaries demolished by the hands of persecuting violence, or destroyed by fire ; now, by God's good favor, rising again out of their ruins and furnishing enlarged means of 510 Romance Without Fiction. accommodation to Christian worshipers. He speaks of ministers ferociously assailed by excited mobs of slave-oppressors in their own houses, or hunted for their lives like partridges upon the mountains, but saved by a gracious interposing Providence from injury and death. He tells of other missionary servants of God tried on false charges before civil and military tribunals, the evidence being obtained by subornation of perjury to condemn them, but breaking down under the weight of its own manifest falsehood and incon- gruity. He names a long list of devoted, faithful men who, within the last six or seven years, have endured the loathsome pestilential atmosphere of Jamaica dungeons for preaching the truth of Christ to perishing men — Whitehouse, Orton, Greenwood, Murray, Box, Rowden, all suffering the horrors of imprisonment for Jesus, and Grims- nall, who, poisoned by prison malaria, sank un- der the hands of his persecutors into a martyr's grave. He rejoices, and many hearts partake his joy, that these things have come to an end ; having in the counsels of unerring Wisdom^ and in the exer- cise of a kind and beneficent Providence, been overruled to the overthrow of that system of op- pression which they were designed to support and perpetuate. With due solemnity, and Avithout mentioning names, the preacher, while his auditors listen with breathless interest, calls upon them to regard the works of the Lord and consider the operation of The Old Sanctuary. 5 1 1 his hands, in that providence of righteous retribu- tion which is even now in exercise around tliem, reminding them that the Lord " ordaineth his arrows against the persecutors." He shows how " the arms of the wicked have been broken," and the righteous have been upheld in the events of the last few years. He speaks of suicides, acci- dents, and terrible judgments following in rapid succession. Profound reverence pervades that vast assembly while the preacher goes on to de- scribe the unhallowed combination into which these men had entered only a short time before, joining hand in hand to extinguish the light of God's truth, destroy his sanctuaries, and drive all Gospel messengers from the land ; and how, in a manner most wonderful, God had scattered them, and brought their devices to none effect. With solemn emphasis he quotes those words of the Psalmist, while all hearts feel their power and truth : " Wait on tlie Lord, and keep his way, and he shall exalt thee to inherit the land : when the wicked are cut off, thou shalt see it. I have seen the wicked in great power, and' spreading himself like a green bay tree. Yet he passed away, and, lo, he was not : yea, I sought him, but he could not be found." Psalm xxxvii, 34-36. The two great lessons which the preacher derives from his review of the past, and urges upon the hearers, are, " Gratitude for Divine Head of the Church for the help given to the mission in the past, and a sure trust and confidence that his presence and aid will bless the future." 512 RoMAxcz V.'zTHivT Frny. The public service closes -^r.'r. z. - r - : pfrayer. But only a few ther. [-': :':.- :iap£i, for the serrices of the day are : : : --i with the cdebration of the holy commi-.:- T-'ise who remain hare come once more : : - - — - :r covenant engagements with their &: ' ~ r on that well-loved spot, where t? - bom again for the better and nnch die heavenly world ; and it is to gr: It -r (rf* thousands that this sacramentc.. . : ^ - pointed to be held. The few ^ho . . - r non-commnnicants are barely sufficient to afford space for ea^ access to the communion place. Not only is die chapel crowded, but also the large band-room below; and hundreds have to wait outside who cajinot obtain access to the b*!i!