SECTION III.

A FAMILY CONVERSATION.

On the slavery of the negroes.

Augusta. My dear papa, you once informed me, that in the West-Indies, all laborious operations were performed by negro slaves. Are those islands inhabited by negroes? I thought these people were natives of Africa.

Father. You are right, my dear; they are, indeed, natives of Africa; but they have been snatched, by the hand of violence, from their country, friends, and connexions. I am ashamed to confess, that many ships are annually sent from different parts of England, to the coast of Guinea, to procure slaves from that unhappy country, for the use of our West-India islands, where they are sold to the planters of sugar-plantations; and afterwards employed in the hardest and most servile occupations; and pass the rest of their lives in slavery and wretchedness.

Sophia. How much my heart feels for them! How agonizing must it be, to be separated from one's near relations; parents perhaps divided from their children for ever; husbands from their wives; brothers and sisters obliged to bid each other a final farewell!-But why do the kings of the African states suffer their subjects to be so cruelly treated?

Mother. Many causes have operated to induce the African princes to become assistants in this infamous traffic: and instead of being the defenders of their harmless people, they have frequently betrayed them to their most cruel enemies. The Europeans have corrupted these ignorant rulers, by presents of rum, and other spirituous liquors, of which they are immoderately fond. They have fomented jealousies, and excited wars, amongst them, merely for the sake of obtaining the prisoners of war for slaves. Frequently they use no ceremony, but go on shore in the night, set fire to a neighbouring village, and seize upon all the unhappy victims, who run out to escape the flames.

Cecilia. What hardened hearts do the captains of those ships possess! They must have become extremely cruel, before they would undertake such an employment.

'Mother

There is reason to believe that most of them,

by the habits of such a life, are become deaf to the voice of pity: we must, however, compassionate the situation of those, whose parents have early bred them to this profession before they were of an age to choose a different employment. But to resume the subject of the negroes. What I have related is only the beginning of their sorrows. When they are put on board the ships, they are crowded together in the hold, where many of them die for want of air and room. There have been frequent instances of their throwing themselves into the sea, when they could find an opportunity, and seeking in death a refuge from their calamity. As soon as they arrive in the West-Indies, they are carried to a public market, where they are sold to the best bidder, like horses at our fairs. Their future lot depends much upon the disposition of the master, into whose hands they happen to fall; for among the overseers of sugarplantations, there are some men of feeling and humanity : but too generally the treatment of the poor negroes is very severe. Accustomed to an easy, indolent life, in the luxurious and plentiful country of Africa, they find great hardship from the transition to a life of severe labour, without any mixture of indulgence to soften it. Deprived of the hope of amending their condition by any course of conduct they can pursue, they frequently abandon themselves to de spair; and die, in what is called the seasoning; which is, becoming inured by length of time to their situation. They who have less sensibility and stronger constitutions, survive their complicated misery but a few years: for it is generally acknowledged, that they seldom attain the full period of human life.

Augusta. Humanity shudders at your account!, but I have heard a gentleman, who had lived many years abroad, say, that negroes were not much superior to the brutes: and that they were so stupid and stubborn, that nothing but stripes and severity could have any influence over them.

Father. That gentleman was most probably interested m misleading those with whom he conversed. People, who reason in that manner, do not consider the disadvantages which the poor negroes suffer, from want of cultivation. Leading an ignorant, savage life in their own country, they can have acquured no previous information: and when they

fall into the hands of their cruel oppressors, a life of labori ous servitude, which scarcely affords them sufficient time for sleep, deprives them of every opportunity of improving their minds. There is no reason to suppose that they differ from us in any thing but colour; which distinction arises from the intense heat of their climate. There have been instances of a few, whose situation has been favourable to improvement, who have shown strong powers of mind Those masters, who neglect the religious and moral in struction of their slaves, add a heavy load of guilt to that already incurred, by their share in this unjust and inhuman traffic.

Charles. My indignation rises at this recital. Why does not the British parliament exert its powers to avenge the wrongs of these oppressed Africans? What can prevent an act being passed to forbid Englishmen from buying and selling slaves!

Father. Many persons of great talents and virtue, have made several fruitless attempts to obtain an act for the abolition of this trade. Men interested in its continuance have hitherto frustrated these generous designs; but we may rely upon the goodness of that Divine Providence, who cares for all creatures, that the day will come when their rights will be considered: and there is great reason to hope, from the light already cast upon the subject, that the rising generation will prefer justice and mercy, to interest and policy; and will free themselves from the odium we at present suffer, of treating our fellow-creatures in a manner unworthy of them, and of ourselves.

Mother. Henry, repeat that beautiful apostrophe to a negro woman, which you learned the other day out of Barbauld's Hymns.

Henry. "Negro woman, who sittest pining in captivity, and weepest over thy sick child, though no one sees thee, God sees thee; though no one pities thee, God pities thee. Raise thy voice, forlorn and abandoned one; call upon him from amidst thy bonds, for assuredly he will hear thee."

Cecilia. I think no riches could tempt me to have any share in the slave-trade. I could never enjoy peace of mind, whilst I thought I contributed to the woes of my fellow-creatures.

Mother. But, Cecilia, to put your compassion to the

proof; are you willing to debar yourself of the numerous indulgences you enjoy, from the fruit of their labour?

Cecilia. I would forego any indulgence to alleviate their sufferings.

The rest of the children together. We are all of the same mind.

Mother. I admire the sensibility of your uncorrupted nearts, my dear children. It is the voice of nature and virtue. Listen to it on all occasions, and bring it home to your bosoms, and your daily practice. The same principle of benevolence, which excites your just indignation at the oppression of the negroes, will lead you to be gentle towards your inferiors, kind and obliging to your equals, and in a particular manner condescending and considerate towards your domestics; requiring no more of them, than you would be willing to perform in their situation; instructing them when you have opportunity; sympathizing in their afflictions, and promoting their best interests to the utmost of your power.*

SECTION IV.

The father redeemed from slavery by his son.

A YOUNG man, named Robert, was sitting alone in his poat in the harbour of Marseilles. A stranger stepped in. and took his seat near him, but quickly rose again; observing, that since the master was not present, he would take another boat. "This, sir, is mine," said Robert: "would you sail without the harbour ?"-" I meant only to move about in the basin, and enjoy the coolness of this fine evening. But I cannot believe you are a sailor.”—“ Nor am I yet on Sundays and holydays, I act the bargerman, with a view to make up a sum."-" What! covetous at your age! your looks had almost prepossessed me in your favour.""Alas! sir, did you know my situation, you would not blame me."-" Well; perhaps I am mistaken.

*It will, doubtless, be gratifying to the young reader, to be informed, that since this Dialogue was written, the Slave Trade has been happily abolished by the British Parliament. This memorable, though late triumph of justice and humanity, was effected in the year 1807.

Let us take our little cruise of pleasure; and acquaint me with your history."

The stranger having resumed his seat, the dialogue, after a short pause, proceeded thus. "I perceive, young man, you are sad. What grieves you thus ?"-"My far ther, sir, groans in fetters, and I cannot ransom him. Ho earned a livelihood by petty brokerage; but in an evil hour, embarked for Smyrna, to superintend in person the delivery of a cargo, in which he had a concern.

The ves

sel was captured by a Barbary corsair; and my father was conducted to Tetuan, where he is now a slave. They refused to release him for less than two thousand crowns, a sum which far exceeds our scanty means. However, we do our best. My mother and sisters work day and night. I ply hard at my stated occupation of a journeyman jew eller; and, as you perceive, make the most I can of sundays and holydays. I had resolved to put myself in my father's stead; but my mother, apprized of my design, and dreading the double privation of a husband and an only son, requested the Levant captains to refuse me a pas sage." Pray do you ever hear from your father? U der what name does he pass? or what is his master's ad dress ?""His master is overseer of the royal gardens at Fez; and my father's name is Robert at Tetuan, as at Marseilles."—"Robert, overseer of the royal gardens ?""Yes, sir."—" I am touched with your misfortunes; but venture to predict their termination."

Night drew on apace. The stranger, upon landing, thrust into young Robert's hand a purse containing eight double louis d'ors, with ten crowns in silver, and instantly disappeared

Six weeks passed after this adventure; and each returnng sun bore witness to the unremitting exertions of the good family. As they sat one day at their unsavoury meal of bread and dried almonds, old Robert entered the apartment, in a garb little suited to a fugitive prisoner; tender ly embraced his wife and children, and thanked them, with tears of gratitude, for the fifty louis they had caused to be remitted to him on his sailing from Tetuan, for his free passage, and a comfortable supply of wearing apparel. His astonished relatives eyed one another in silence. At length the mother, suspecting that her son had secretly concerted