"Why, I listen as I hear gentlemen talk about it. The society will send me and my family across— then they don't give but six months' rations after you land; and then there will be forests to clear, and stumps in the ground, and the acclimating fever, and no return for the labour at the end of six months." "But you might hire yourself to some one at odd days, and so earn a little, while your crop grows." "But I have no tools." "Oh, our 'navvies' in England sometimes come along to a piece of work, when they have dissipated the very coat off their back; one lends a pick, and another a spade; at the week's end they can buy tools, and presently they get decently clothed." He shook his careful head. It was strange to see an acute, sensible man, using all lawful means to purchase himself, understanding how to pay by instalments, and having a regular receipt for each payment, and yet, from want of use about daily provision and self-management, more at a loss what to do with himself than he is for the means to make the purchase. When asked why he paid 300 dollars before he could make up the whole price, as he got no interest from his owner, I understood him to say that he could not place it out at interest, or be known to own it, and that if he died, it would not belong to his wife and child, but to his master, as a slave can own nothing.

Reverting to his grand difficulty, he said, “About Liberia, too, now that it is made independent, what

if America should quarrel with us?"

"America

has a strong interest in keeping on good terms with Liberia." “Then if Great Britain should go to war with us, would America embroil herself with Britain for us? And which side could we take if they were at war? Britain has been always kind to Liberia.” "Don't be faint-hearted, that must all come as it may. A British steamer has just reached Liberia, with an honest treaty of commerce, which both parties have signed. Besides, you are going to have a line of steamers to run between this country and that immediately. Liberia is growing in strength. You cannot here rise above a depressed condition; there you are not only free, but have equal rights." 66 Well, I listen, listen to the talk of the gentlemen at table, and when they notice me they say, 'What better would you be of freedom? ain't you very happy here?' and I say, 'Sir, would you like it, if you had five children and I had three, if I say to you, You work and give me all your wages for my three, and let your own five do as they can? You would not like that.' 'O, don't talk that way, Tom, you will stir up discontent among the coloured folks.' 'Well,' says I, 'I don't speak so to them, for, poor things, they could not bear it. But I say it to you, sir, for it is true." "What is it," I inquired, "that enables you to bear it better than the rest, Thomas?" "You see, I lay my case before the Lord, and just ask him to make me free or keep me slave, or to do with me just what he pleases, and that keeps me

quiet, and I tell my people to be quiet, for there is no colour in his presence."

The hope of salvation shed a calm and dignified sweetness and patience over his sable countenance. "Poor things!" said he again, "they could not bear it-no, no, they could not bear it." "Do you try to do them good?" "When I was labourer here and there at riving, shingling, and farming, I taught Sabbath-school, and I never frightened the little ones about hellfire or such things-they hear enough of that"—he did not say from whom; "but I clap their heads and love them, and tell them first to be good to their parents, and they will be always kind to them. And when they understand that, I tell them to obey God, the great Parent of us all, and he will be kind to them, and make them very happy in heaven for his dear Son's sake,-and they used all to get very fond of me." "You have very few slaves here now?" "Some-always some." "They are kindly used, though, and not punished here?" This I asked trembling, for, to tell truth, at six in the morning I had quivered from head to foot at some unusual sounds which reached my chamber, that looked upon a back yard. It was Sabbath morning the morning, as I remembered, set apart in some places for inflicting punishment. The sounds were strange, and my heart was very full for the people all around me. "Not punished," replied Thomas; "no-not much punished. There is a whipping-post in the yard,-but we don't have the

whipping now that used to be. I have been so long a time with my master, that I make free to say a word now and then. And when a servant does wrong, I venture to say, 'Might it not be as well to change him and hire another, and not whip him?'and he rather takes that way now. patience and prayer will conquer. what is best, and will provide for free."

66

Well, Thomas,

The Lord knows

you when you are

Patient, ingenious, kind, and brave, perhaps he will never venture to throw off the disability attached to his complexion in the land of his birth, yet he has that about him which would make him an acquisition, as a citizen, to any country.

CHAPTER XIX.

THE COLONISATION SOCIETY.

WHEN first we heard of this society in England it was hailed with joy, as a wise outlet for the oppressed, and a promising method of introducing civilisation to the western coast of Africa.

Those who had felt the slave-trade the most deeply as a wrong and impediment in every way to that coast, were those who gave to the agents of colonisation the most ardent welcome to England. But in a year or two the prospect was clouded.

The Maryland State Colonisation Society stated broadly at its seventh anniversary, that "abolition is a curse to those it pretends to benefit, and colonisation presents the only practicable plan by which the condition of the coloured population can be ameliorated." And again," That this society hold colonisation to be the antagonist of abolition, and find the best proof of the importance of the former to the states where slavery exists, in the untiring. efforts made by the latter to defeat and prostrate it."* There was then no purpose of benefit to the

* Resolutions at the public meeting held at Annapolis, Jan. 23, 1839.