THE two individuals whose names are here associated, accompanied Dr. Philip, superintendent of the London Missionary Society in South Africa, when, in the spring, of 1836, he returned to England to testify, before a committee of the House of Commons, to the injuries inflicted on the Aborigines of the Cape by the Dutch and English settlers. The manner in which these intelligent men conducted themselves, and gave their evidence, which they were several times called on to do, before the committee, convinced all who saw and heard them, that the tribe or nation to which they belonged, however sunk and degraded by ignorance and superstition, wanted only the advantages of instruction, to enable them to bear a comparison with any people, however powerful and enlightened.

From an article in the “Christian Keepsake,” we learn that Jan Tzatzoe was born in the year 1791, being the son of a powerful chief, who held sway over a tribe of Amakosa Kaffirs, whose territories bordered closely on those formerly occupied by the Hottentots. The elder Tzatzoe was nearly related to Habaki, the grandfather of Gaika, and consequently belonged to one of the most ancient of the reigning families of the country; he appears to have been held in high estimation by the other chiefs for his wisdom and integrity, and to have preserved, in a remarkable manner, peace and good order among his people, with whom he left the possessions of his forefathers, and settled in a portion of the country called the Zuirveld, principally occupied by the Dutch. Here he was residing when the London Missionary Society established an institution for the spiritual instruction of the natives at Bethelsdorp, and into this the young Tzatzoe entered as a student.

Wild and untutored as he was—a perfect child of the wilderness—he yet evinced so much mildness. and docility of disposition, was so patient of the restraints imposed upon him, so attentive and tractable, that he soon won the affection and regard of those entrusted with his education, and filled them with high hopes of his future usefulness, which his after career did not disappoint.

THIS African was the son of the Mahomedan King of Bunda, on the Gambia, who, in 1730, while travelling across the countries of Zagra, with a servant and some cattle, was seized and carried to Jour, and there sold to one Captain Pyke, who brought him to America, and re-sold him to a Maryland planter. With this master, who treated him with unusual kindness, Solliman remained for about a year, when, by a train of extraordinary circumstances, he was enabled to leave America and come to England, where his perfect knowledge of the Arabic tongue having become known to Sir Hans Sloane, he was employed in translating manuscripts, inscriptions on coins, medals, etc. He seems to have acquired English during his short servitude and his passage across the Atlantic, and to have been altogether a man of great mental capacity. Being recommended by Sir Hans to the Duke of Montague, that nobleman was so pleased with the sweetness of his temper and disposition, the dignified ease of his manners, and his evident genius and ability that he introduced him at court, where he was graciously received by the royal family and many of the nobility, who bestowed upon him distinguished marks of favour. After remaining in this country for about eighteen months, Solliman was very desirous of returning to his native land, to see his father, the King of Bunda, once more.

Many presents and marks of esteem were given to him by Queen Caroline, the Dukes of Northumberland and Montague, and other nobles and ladies of the court, as well as by the African Company, whose agents were ordered to show him great, respect, and afford him all facilities for his return to Bunda. He reached his home in safety, and his restoration from the bondage of the white man was thought a wonderful event. “During sixty years,” said one of his uncles, embracing him, “thou art the first slave I have ever seen return from America.” Many letters were written by Solliman to his friends both in Europe and the American colony, and thus the interest in him was kept alive: at his father's death he became King, and seems to have been much beloved by his subjects. He was remarkable for a most retentive memory. Grégoire states that he knew the Koran by heart, and his assertion is borne out by the fact, that, while in England, he wrote in Arabic a copy of this sacred book of the Mahomedans entirely from remembrance. A portrait of this erudite Negro will be found in the “Gentleman's Magazine,” vol. xx., date 1750.

was a native of Guinea, from which country he was brought into Europe when very young. The Princess of Brunswick having become interested in him, took charge of his education. He pursued his studies first at Halle, in Saxony, and afterwards at Wittemberg, at which place he so distinguished himself as to gain a public letter of congratulation from the Rector and Council of the University. Amo appears to have possessed a through knowledge of the Latin and Greek languages; he also knew Hebrew, French, Dutch, and German, and was versed in Astronomy. He published several learned dissertations, which obtained the approbation of the heads of the college, the president of which gave him the honourable designation of “vir no bilissime et clarissime:” thus, as Armistead observes, “evincing belief in the absurd prejudice which exists against coloured portions of mankind.”

was a Mulatto officer of artillery in the Isle of France, of the depôt of maps and plans of which island he was also the authorized guardian. His historian does not inform us where or when he was born, but we learn that he never visited Europe, and therefore could not have availed himself of those facilities for education and opportunities of improving his taste, and acquiring a knowledge of men and things, which are there offered to the student; that he was however, a man exceedingly well versed in most branches of physical science there can be no doubt. In 1786 we learn that he was named a corresponding member of the French Academy of Sciences, to which learned body he regularly transmitted meteorological observations, and occasionally hydrographical journals. His maps of the Isles of France, founded upon careful astronomical observations, were acknowledged to be the best that had ever appeared; they were first published, with other plans, in 1791, by order of the French Minister of Marine; and in 1802 was issued a new edition, corrected from drawings which the author transmitted to Paris. L'Islet contributed several papers to the Almanac of the Isle of France, among others a description of that remarkable natural phenomenon the Pitrebot Mountain, one of the highest in the island.

In the archives of the Academy of Sciences were deposited a collection of L'Islet's manuscript memoirs, the most interesting of which is an account of a voyage which he made to the Bay of St. Luce, an island of Madagascar; to this is attached a good map of the Bay and of the coast. The author enters somewhat fully into the natural resources, exchangeable commodities, etc., of Madagascar, and gives a very curious description of the manners and customs of the people. He points out how much better it would be to encourage the arts of peace, and promote habits of industry among the natives, than to stimulate them to war for the purpose of obtaining slaves. Nor is this the only proof that he was a man of an enlightened mind— something more than a mere savan. He seems to have struggled manfully against the prejudices of colour and caste. He established a scientific society in the Isle of France, which several Whites refused to join because its founder had a skin a few shades darker than their own; “a proof,” as the Abbé Grégoire pithily observes, “that they were unworthy of such an honour.”

ON the borders of the River St. Andre, in Africa, was born James E. J. Capitien, so named by a benevolent individual, to whom he was presented when quite young by a Negro trader. By his kind master Capitien was instructed in the truths of Christianity, baptized, and brought to Holland, where he acquired the Dutch language. In the Hague, where he commenced his studies, a pious and learned lady is said to have first taught him Latin and the elements of the Greek, Hebrew, and Chaldean tongues. From the Hague he went to the University of Leyden, where he devoted himself mainly to theology, intending there to fit himself for a preacher of the Gospel to his heathen countrymen. In 1742, after he had studied four years, and taken his degree, he left the University, and went as a missionary to Elmina, on the Gold Coast, and since that date nothing seems to have been heard of him, excepting a report which reached Europe in 1802 of his having abjured Christianity, and returned to the idolatry of his fathers. This, however, wants confirmation: Blumenback, who, in his work on the Varieties of the Human Race, has a portrait of Capitien, could find no authentic information against him, nor, we believe, has any since transpired.

An elegy in Latin on the death of his friend and preceptor, Manger, minister at the Hague, was Capitien's first published work; it exhibits good scholarship and considerable poetic genius. A Latin dissertation on the calling of the Gentiles he produced on his admission to the University of Leyden. In this work, which is entitled “De Vocatione Ethnicorum,” he argues logically, forcibly, and, as it has been thought, successfully, to establish, upon the authority of the Holy Scriptures, the certainty of the promise of the Gospel, and its comprehensiveness as embracing all nations; he recommends, as a means of co-operating with the Almighty, the cultivation of the language of those nations to whom the blessings of Christianity are yet unknown. Among these nations, he says, missionaries should be sent, who, by the mild voice of persuasion, might win their affections, and so dispose them to receive the truths of the Gospel. Verily this is the right sort of teaching, although some would tell us that the bayonet and the musket are the best introducers of the Saviour's testament of love and mercy. In this dissertation too he observes that “The Spaniards and Portugese exercise a mild and gentle treatment of their slaves, establishing no superiority of colour, etc. In other countries planters have prevented their Negroes from being instructed in a religion which proclaims the equality of men, all proceeding from a common stock, and equally entitled to the benefits of a kind Providence, who is no respecter of persons.”

This was very unpalatable to the Dutch planters, who somehow afterwards contrived to make Capitien the apologist of a bad system, and to prostitute his learning to the purpose of proving that slavery is not incompatible with Christian freedom. His politico-philosophical dissertation in Latin, composed to this end, was translated into Dutch, and went through four editions. It was embellished with a portrait of the author in the garb of a preacher, in which character he delivered several discourses at different towns in Holland; these were collected and published in a quarto volume at Amsterdam in 1742.

THIS was a man for whom education did but little, but who nevertheless evinced great natural talent, and a high sense of the obligations of Christian duty. Like his more learned countryman Othello, he too wrote a work against slavery; and although it was neither so eloquent nor argumentative as the former production of the Negro mind, yet was there much in it to convince the understanding, and awaken the feelings of the heart.

The birth-place of Cugoano—who, unlike most of the other kidnapped Negroes, appears to have retained his native appellation—was Agimaque, on the coast of Fantin, from whence he was dragged, with twenty other children of both sexes, by European robbers, who, with brandished arms, threatened to kill them if they made any resistance. Being taken to Grenada and sold into slavery, our hero was rescued from his degraded condition by Lord Hoth, who brought him to England, where, in 1788, we find him in the service of Cosway, painter to the prince of Wales. An Italian author named Piatole having, while residing in London, become acquainted with him, speaks in strong terms of his piety, mildness of character, modesty, integrity, and talents. The Negro was then about forty-years of age. His work, “Reflections on the Slave-trade and the Slavery of Negroes,” opens with a touching account of the sufferings endured by those who are torn from their native country, and forced to bid an eternal adieu to all that is dear to them. “The spectacle,” he says, “calculated to move the hearts of monsters does not that of the slave-dealer.” He relates how, at Grenada, he saw Negroes lacerated by the whip, because, instead of working, they went to church on the Sabbath; and how others had their teeth broken, because they dared to suck the sugar-cane. He endeavours to prove, from the Scriptures, that the stealing, selling, and purchase of men, and their retention in a state of slavery, were crimes of the deepest dye; goes somewhat into the causes of difference of colour in the human species; and asks whether these differences give one race a right to presume inferiority, and to enslave another. He observes that “The Negroes have never crossed the seas to steal white men,” and tells the Europeans that, “while complaining of the barbarism of the Negroes, their conduct towards them is horribly barbarous;” and further—listen, Oh ye white teachers of Christianity! to this untaught sable teacher— he says, that to steal men—to rob them of their liberty— is worse than to plunder them of their goods, and that “for national crimes heaven sometimes inflicts national punishments; besides, injustice is, sooner or later, fatal to its author.”

Between ancient and modern slavery Cugoano makes a striking comparison, which is worthy of especial attention from those who rest their defence of the system upon the Old Testament Scriptures. “The Hebrews did not steal men to enslave them, nor sell them without their consent, neither did they put a fine upon the head of a fugitive. In Deuteronomy it is expressly said, ‘Thou shalt not deliver up to his master a fugitive slave who has sought in thy house an asylum.’ ” And passing from the Old to the New Testament, the simple Negro is greatly puzzled how to reconcile the inconsistency of pro-slavery Christians with the command of Christ, to do to others as we would they should do to us.

was a native of Jamaica, where he was born in the year 1700; when quite young, he gave such manifestation of ability that the Duke of Montague, who was then Governor of the island, determined on trying whether, if placed in the same circumstances of improvement, he would be found equal to one of a fairer skin, the impression being generally adverse to such an opinion. This interesting psychological experiment was successfully carried out; Williams was sent to England, and, after passing through his elementary studies at a private school, entered the University of Cambridge, where his progress in mathematics and other branches of science was highly satisfactory. Having, while in Europe, published a poem which obtained considerable popularity, an attempt was made by certain persons, who were enraged that a Negro should obtain any literary pre-eminence, to to show that it was not entirely his own production; in this, however, they were unsuccessful.

When Williams returned to Jamaica, his patron offered to obtain for him a place in the Government Council; this he declined, and preferred opening a school under patronage of the Governor. He appears to have been accomplished classical and mathematical scholar; it was his custom to present a Latin poem to each successor to the Governorship of the island, and of one of these finished productions of his muse a translation in French is given by the Abbé Grégoire, and one in English by Long, in his History of Jamaica, published in 1774, that is, about four years after the death of Williams, which took place at the ripe age of seventy years. The Negro schoolmaster had prepared to succeed him in his educational duties, a young man of his own race and colour, who unfortunately became deranged: a proof, says the historian Long, that African heads are incapable of following out a course of abstruse study: as if European heads had never become unsettled by such means, even admitting that this was the cause of the derangement of intellect in Williams's pupil. Long was much prejudiced against the Negroes, and he accuses Williams of imitation and servility in his poetical offerings to the Governors, because he compares them to the heroes of antiquity, forgetting that some of our own greatest poets are open to the same reproach. On the publication of the particular “Carmen” addressed to George Haldane, Esq., of which Long gives a versified translation, the Dean of Middleham, alluding to those who would class the Negroes with monkeys, indignantly observed, “I never heard it said that an orang-outang had composed a poem, nor do we find among the defenders of slavery one-half of the literary merit of Phillis Wheatley and Francis Williams.”

IT was of this man that Roccho Pirro, author of the “Sicilia Sacra,” wrote, “His body was black, but it pleased God to testify by miracles the whiteness of his soul.” Several other historians speak of him in the like terms of admiration, and in Palermo, where he died in 1589, his tomb and memory, we are told, are generally revered. Of his life we have no other particulars to record, than that there shone around it the light of an assemblage of eminent virtues; that he was a Negro born of a slave mother; and, in addition to the name above given, was sometimes called Benoit of St. Philadelphia or Santo Fratello, and that he was the son of a slave negress.

WE gather the particulars contained in this chapter from No. 63 of “Chambers's Miscellany of Useful and Entertaining Tracts,” the interesting information contained in which we have necessarily given in a condensed form. The tract, to which we have previously referred, is entitled “Intelligent Negroes;” and perhaps the most remarkable of those there instanced as proofs of great mental capacity in the Negro race, is the young woman whose name is given above. Purchased in the slave-market of Boston, in the year 1761, by a benevolent lady, who selected her from a number of more robust and healthy-looking, children, on account of her apparent intelligence and modesty, the little Phillis, as she was afterwards called, with nothing to cover her nakedness but a ragged strip of dirty carpet, was taken from the human cattle-fold to the house which was henceforward to be her home, she being then between seven and eight years of age. In sixteen months from this period what a change has taken place in the poor African girl! the uncouth gibberish of her native tongue, and the wild gesticulations of untaught barbarism, are changed for a language smooth and intelligible to all around, and a carriage and demeanour suitable to European ideas of propriety and decorum. So rapid had been her progress in knowledge, under the tuition of the daughter of her mistress, that she had not only mastered the elements of the English tongue, but could read with ease the most difficult parts of holy writ. Her extraordinary aptitude for learning, and her general intelligence and amiability of character, had so won upon the affections of Mrs. Wheatley, that, instead of putting her to the common household occupations for which she was at first intended, she kept her about her own person to perform such light duties as were there required, and which to the grateful Phillis were rather offices of love than services of mere mercenary attachment. She soon learned to write as well as read, and excited the astonishment of all around by her extraordinary acquirements. How could it be? A poor little Negro slave, who but a few years ago was running wild in the African forests—one of an inferior order of beings— of a despised, a degraded race! How could it be? Why she knew more than half the people about her, though they had white skins and she a black one—they were free and she in bondage. How could it be? But Phillis astonished them yet more when, at the early age of fourteen, she began to write verses, aye, and very polished verses too—highly- finished compositions, some of which would have done no discredit to Pope himself, whom she seems to have taken for her model. It is not often we meet with lines like these from the pen of a tyro in the art of poesy, however great have been the advantages offered of moral and intellectual culture in youth; they are from a long poem on the Providence of God, remarkable alike for great reach of thought, and powers of expression:—

“We have no hesitation,” says the author of the tract before referred to, “in stating our opinion, and we believe that many will concur in it, that these lines, written by the African slave girl at the age of fifteen or sixteen, are quite equal to a great number of the verses that appear in all standard collections of English poetry under the names of Halifax, Dorset, and others of ‘the mob of gentlemen who wrote with ease.’ Phillis Wheatley's lines are, if anything, superior in harmony, and are not inferior in depth of thought; the faults are those which characterize the models she copied from.” A less polished and more natural order of composition might well have been expected from such a source, and the wonder is how this young Negro girl could have obtained such a command of an acquired language, as to express her thoughts in this elaborate and finished style.

was the son of an African king, and unmistakeably a Negro, having, fully developed, all the physical peculiarities of the race. His father reigned over a considerable tract of country on the coast of Guinea, which was much resorted to by dealers in slaves. King Cock-eye, as the sailors called the Negro sovereign, on account of his obliquity of vision, having noticed that the superior intelligence of the Europeans gave them great advantage over the Africans in their traffic, resolved to send his son to Britain, which he had been informed was the focus of enlightenment, for education. Accordingly the young prince was formally consigned to the care of a British trader, who promised to return him some years afterwards, with as much learning in his head as it could: conveniently carry; but death prevented the fulfilment of this promise. The captain died suddenly soon after his return to England, and before the necessary arrangements for the commencement of the education of his charge could be made; so Thomas Jenkins, as his guardian had somewhat capriciously chosen to call him, was left without a friend in a strange land.

It was at an inn in Hawick, a town in Scotland, that poor Tom watched by the death-bed of Captain Swanstone, and faithfully performed for him the necessary duties, although almost perishing with the cold of a northern winter; and there he remained awhile, after his guardian had expired, doing what he could to make himself useful, and to show his gratitude for the food, and lodging, and kind treatment of the landlady of the house. He was then taken charge of by a farmer of Teviot-head, who was a near relative of his deceased guardian, and employed in such. humble duties about the house and farm as he was able to perform. After awhile he was advanced to the office of cow-herd, and driver of peats to Hawick for sale, and discharged these duties in a very satisfactory manner. His next change was into the service of Mr. Laidlaw, of Falnash, a respectable and intelligent gentleman, who took a fancy to Black Tom, as he was called, and prevailed on his former protector to relinquish the charge of him. He was now a stout lad, and could turn his hand to almost anything; he spoke the provincial dialect like a native, and, but for his sable skin, woolly hair, and Negro features, might have been taken for a Scottish peasant.

Now it was that Tom began to show some taste for snatching up very eagerly all the crumbs of knowledge that came within his reach. It was observed that he had a strange liking for candle ends, carefully preserving every scrap of wick and tallow that was left about the farm-house. Suspicions were aroused, the boy was watched, and in his loft was seen with books and slate, employing the hours usually devoted to rest, in making rude imitations of the letters of the alphabet. The liberal-minded Mr. Laidlaw did not discourage these attempts of the poor lad to acquire knowledge; on the contrary, he sent him to an evening school kept by a rustic pedagogue, where he made such rapid progress as to astonish all the neighbourhood. Not content with English, and the mere elementary branches of knowledge, this farm servant, by and by, in the intervals of his daily toil, began to instruct himself in Latin and Greek. In the rural district where he lived, no regular instruction in the classics could be obtained; but the Laidlaws, and other kind friends, lent him some books, and did all they could to encourage and assist his praiseworthy efforts; which were so far successful, that he obtained a tolerable acquaintance with the two ancient languages named, and something of an insight into mathematics. With twelve shillings, saved out of his wages, and a little assistance from a friend, he was enabled to purchase a Greek Dictionary. This was a great event in Tom's life; Oh, what a prize was that dictionary to him! How triumphantly did he bear it from the auction, where we are told that “All present stared with wonder when they saw a Negro, clad in the grey cast-off surtout of a private soldier, and the No. xcvi. still glaring in white oil paint on his back, competing for a book, which could only be useful to a student in a considerably advanced stage.”

And equally astonished, a few years later, were the members of the “Committee of the Presbytery of Jedburgh, ” appointed to examine the qualifications of the candidates for the mastership of the school of Teviot-head, when the same black farm-servant of Falnash appeared before them, clad in the same serviceable coat, with a bundle of books under his arm, to be examined as to his fitness for the work of instructing the bare-breeched callants of the wide mountain district around. Tom's qualifications were undoubtedly superior to any other of the candidates; but then his black skin! How could the gude folk of the presbytery entrust their children to the care of such as he? Tom lost his election, because he could not , when improving his mind, also whiten his body, and assimilate his features more nearly to the lines of Celtic beauty. Our hero, who was then twenty years of age, felt keenly the disappointment of this rejection on account of caste and colour—it seemed to dam for ever the current of his hopes of further advancement, and condemn him to a life of lasting servitude.

But there were some in the district who had enlightened views, and they, feeling indignant at Tom's rejection, resolved to set him up in opposition to the chosen of the presbytery. Several of the heritors therefore, headed by the then Duke of Buccleuch, fitted up for the Negro schoolmaster an old smiddy, and engaged to pay him an annual stipend, equal to that of his more regularly appointed rival. Tom turned out an excellent teacher, and became an immense favourite with both parents and children; he had a way of communicating knowledge, which rendered severity unnecessary; his school was soon filled, while the other was deserted, and matters went on swimmingly. He was both learner and teacher, and every Saturday used to walk to Hawick, a distance of eight miles, to make an exhibition to the master of an academy there, of what he had himself acquired during the week. On Sunday he was always back to divine service at his parish church, of which he was a regular attendant.

But Oh, the ambition of man! Tom sighed for academical honours; and having obtained a person to perform his school duties, and leave from his patrons, the heritors, to be absent during the requisite period, he presented himself, when the winter session was about to commence, at the Edinburgh University, in the identical grey coat before spoken of, and requested admission to the Latin, Greek, and mathematical classes; much to the astonishment of the professors, two of whom, to their honour be it spoken, would not accept of the fees which he tendered, out of the twenty pounds which he had managed to save, and which constituted his whole stock of money. A gentleman named Moncrieff, however, an old and steady friend of Tom, had given him an order upon a merchant of Edinburgh, for whatever further sum he might require to support him at college during the winter. Tom fully justified the confidence reposed in him, and returned this order unused, when he resumed his school duties at Teviot-head in the spring.

We give the conclusion to his history in the words of the tract, from which we have gleaned these particulars:—“It is obvious, we think, that Mr. Jenkins should have been returned, by some benevolent society, to his native country; where he might have been expected to do wonders in civilizing and instructing his father's or his own subjects. Unfortunately, about ten years ago, a gentleman of the neighbourhood, animated by the best intentions, introduced him to the Christian Knowledge Society, as a proper person to be a Missionary among the colonial slaves; and he was induced to go out as a teacher to the Mauritius—a scene entirely unworthy of his exertions. There he has attained eminence as a teacher, and we believe he is still living.”

was another self-taught African, who exhibited powers and capacities of mind, and qualities of heart and understanding, which fully entitle him to a place in our gallery of Negro worthies. He was the only child of slave parents, and a native of Virginia state, being born on a plantation about thirty miles from the town of Richmond; at which town we find him in 1804, employed at a warehouse as a common labourer. His parents were seriously disposed, although uneducated people, and appear to have sown in his mind the seeds of piety, which received a quickening impulse from a sermon which he heard, while employed at the warehouse. He procured a copy of the New Testament, and by dint of perseverance, after awhile, taught himself to read; making himself at the same time acquainted with the religious truths contained in that precious book. He next managed to acquire the art of writing, and these acquisitions, by rendering him more useful to his employers, tended to raise him greatly in the scale of remuneration; so that with diligence and frugality, he was enabled, eventually, to save a sum sufficient to purchase his own freedom, and that of two children born to him by a bond woman on his master's estate, whom he had married and lost by death.

At Richmond, Cary was chiefly employed in shipping tobacco. “Of the real value of his services, while in this employment,” says the author of an American Publication, from whence the particulars given in Chamber's Tract are gathered, “it has been remarked that no one but a dealer tobacco can form an idea. Notwithstanding the hundreds of hogsheads which were committed to his charge, he could produce any one the moment it was called for; and the shipments were made with a promptness and correctness such as no person, either white or coloured, has equalled in the same situation.”

Cary's employers, it seems, were not slow to acknowledge and reward his valuable services. In addition to his regular salary which at last amounted to eight hundred dollars yearly, they frequently presented him with a five dollar note, besides allowing him to sell for his own benefit small parcels of damaged tobacco occasionally. He employed much of his leisure time in reading, and his books, when not of a religious character, were such solid works as “Smith's Wealth of Nations,” and the like.

As early as 1815, the subject of African Missions had occupied the mind of this self-emancipated, and self-educated Negro, and it was mainly through his efforts, that the African Missionary Society was established, at Richmond, in that year. He, too, was among the earliest of the emigrant colonists, whose object was to introduce civilization and Christianity among the barbarous tribes, among whom his ancestors were to be looked for. The settlement at Cape Montserado was formed in the face of appalling difficulties, and Cary appears to have been the leading spirit in its foundation, protection, and management. “Here he saw before him a wide and interesting field, demanding various and powerful talents, and the most devoted piety. His intellectual ability, firmness of purpose, unbending integrity, correct judgment and disinterested benevolence, soon placed him in a conspicuous station, and gave him wide and commanding influence.”*

WITHOUT pretending to claim for the subject of the present sketch a very high place in the scale of intellectual endowment, we may adduce him as an example of great mental energy, perseverance, and enterprise. Few white men have ever struggled with, and overcome greater difficulties than Paul Cuffee, whose career is instructive, not only as showing that there is no inherent defect or weakness in the Negro mind, but also as an example of what may be done by a determined will and sound judgment, to ensure worldly prosperity, and assist our fellow-creatures, even with scanty means and limited opportunities.

Paul was the fourth son of a native African, who, having been brought as a slave to Boston, was enabled, by great industry and economy, to save a sufficient sum to purchase, first his freedom, and then a farm of one hundred acres, which was situated at Westport, in Massachusetts. He married a woman of Indian descent, by whom he had a family of ten children. The date of Paul's birth is 1759, and in 1773 his father died, and after assisting his brothers for awhile in the cultivation of their land, which was not very productive, he resolved to forsake agriculture for commerce, and to cast in his lot with those who “go down to the sea in ships, and do their business upon the mighty waters.” His first voyage was a whaling expedition; his second a trip to the West Indies; and in both of these he served as a common sailor before the mast. In the year 1776, when Britain and America were at war, he set out on his third voyage, and had the misfortune to be taken prisoner and carried to New York, where he was detained three months. At the end of that time, being released, he returned to Westport, and there remained for several years, occupied in his old pursuits. It was at this time, while he was yet under the age of twenty, that Paul, who, we are told, felt deeply the injustice done to his race by their exclusion from the rights of citizenship, resolved on making an effort to obtain those rights, and accordingly drew up, with the assistance of his brothers, and presented to the state legislature, a petition on the subject, which had the desired effect, and procured for the free Negroes of this state all the privileges of white citizens, and not of this alone, for others soon followed the example of Massachusetts, and thus Paul Cuffee became a benefactor to the whole coloured population of North America.

When about twenty years old, the idea of opening a commercial intercourse with the state of Connecticut occurred to Paul, and his brother David having consented to join him in the venture, the two set out in an open boat, which was all their limited means would allow them to procure. The perils of the voyage in this small vessel discouraged the elder brother, who was quite unaccustomed to the sea, and he greatly disappointed Paul by resolving to return and abandon the enterprise. By dint of hard labour and strict economy, the more fearless brother, after awhile, was enabled to purchase a boat for himself; in this he embarked; but the fates were unpropitious, and Paul lost the whole of his hard-earned treasures. Again he set to work, and again saved some money and buying only the materials, constructed a boat with his own hands. Behold him now in his deckless vessel once more launched on the treacherous sea, steering for the Elizabeth Isles, to consult one of his brothers residing there, as to his future plans. He is beset by pirates, who take his boat and its contents, and send him back to Westport a penniless, but not a disheartened man. With the help of David , he constructs yet another boat, and having now gained a character for energy and trustworthiness, he obtains a cargo on credit, which, after a narrow escape from the pirates, he lands safely at Nantucket, and there disposes of it to advantage. He returns, and again ventures forth upon the waters with another cargo, which is seized by his old enemies, who this time do not deprive him of his boat. Nothing daunted, Paul loads her again, sets sail, and this time succeeds in reaching the destined port without casualties. The profits of this voyage enable him to purchase a decked vessel of twelve tons burden, with which he made several successful voyages to the Connecticut coasts, so that he became a man of some substance, and now thought that he might venture upon taking a wife. He chose a descendant of the same tribe of Indians as that to which his mother belonged, and for some years after his marriage remained on shore, engaged in agriculture. The wants of an increasing family again sent him forth upon the sea; with a larger vessel than he had yet possessed, he engaged in cod-fishing and thus increased his means so much, as to be enabled to build a brig of forty-two tons burden which was navigated by himself and several nephews, who had also become sailors.

Paul now began to be looked up to as a leading man in his community, and to interest himself about the mental improvement of the people around him, who were chiefly mariners and fishermen, who depended greatly upon him for the means of support. He was himself, in a great measure, an uneducated man, and feeling the want of education, was desirous that others should not be so deprived of its advantages; he therefore built a school-house on his own ground, and threw it open to the public. Still increasing in prosperity as years rolled on, he became owner of several ships, in one of which he came to England in the year 1811, and made a very favourable impression upon all with whom he had intercourse. In the “Liverpool Mercury” published at the time of his visit, there appeared a memoir of him, from which we quote the following description of his mental and physical characteristics:—“A sound understanding, united with indomitable energy and perseverance, are the prominent features of Paul Cuffee's character. Born under peculiar disadvantages, deprived of the benefits of early education, and his meridian spent in toil and vicissitudes, he has struggled under disadvantages which have seldom occurred in the career of any individual. Yet, under the pressure of these difficulties, he seems to have fostered dispositions of mind which qualify him for any station of life to which he is introduced. His person is tall, well-formed, and athletic; his deportment conciliating, yet dignified and serene. His prudence, strengthened by parental care and example, no doubt guarded him in his youth, when exposed to the dissolute company which unavoidably attends a seafaring life; whilst religion, influencing his mind by its secret guidance in silent reflection, has in advancing manhood added to the brightness of his character, and instituted or confirmed his disposition to practical good. Latterly he made application and was received into membership with the respectable Society of Friends.”

As a proof of the disposition for practical good here spoken of, it may be mentioned, that the scheme of establishing colonies of free Blacks on the coast of Africa excited in him the deepest interest. He visited in person the parts proposed for colonization, and it was while he was at Sierra Leone for this purpose, in 1811, that he was induced by the agents of the British African Institute to determine on visiting England, with a cargo of African produce. His brig, navigated by eight men and a boy, all Negroes, excited a great deal of attention on reaching Liverpool, and he himself obtained much notice and respect from men of all classes. He had left his nephew behind him at Sierra Leone, to prosecute his benevolent inquiries, and had brought away a native youth, in order to educate and fit him for a teacher of his benighted brethren. To the council of the African Institute, who consulted him as to the best method of carrying out their philanthropic views, he imparted valuable information and advice, and, after visiting London twice, he returned to America, to spend the remainder of his days in the enjoyment of that competency which he had so well earned, and which enabled him to obey the promptings of his warm and generous heart. Of the date of his death we have no record: most of the members of his family are still, we believe, engaged in those commercial pursuits in which he was so enterprising and successful.

A GREAT deal of excitement was caused in the United States, in the year 1839, by the seizure, by a government ship, of a suspicious-looking schooner, manned by about forty Africans; this turned out to be the Amistad, a Spanish vessel, into which the Negroes, previously brought from their own country and sold as slaves, had been put at Havannah by their purchasers, two Spaniards, to be conveyed to Cuba, where the estates of their masters were situated. On the passage they overpowered the captain and crew of the vessel, killing part of them in the struggle; put their would-be owners into confinement; and in the attempt to effect their escape back to Africa, were captured by the American cruiser and brought into port. The Spaniards, Jose Ruiz and Pedro Montez, who claimed them for their property, had them indicted for piracy and murder, but the indictment was declared not recognizable in an American court; the alleged offence having been committed in a vessel under the Spanish flag. The reputed culprits were, however, kept in confinement, although great efforts were made by the friends of the Negro to obtain their release; and it was finally decided by the senate at Washington, to deliver them up, either as property or murderers. The order, however, to this effect, was disregarded; the judge of the district in which they were confined, deciding that they were free men, unlawfully kidnapped in Africa, and therefore entitled to their liberty: they were accordingly released from confinement. Many persons volunteered their assistance to these homeless and destitute, Negroes, they were taken by the hand by the friends of emancipation, and their wants and wishes made known to the public, by means of interesting exhibitions of native manners and customs, etc., in which they appeared, and related their history and adventures.

Cinque, as their leader was called, appears to have been a man of great intelligence, and natural ability; he was a powerful orator, and although speaking in a tongue foreign to his audience, by the grace and energy of his motions and attitudes, the changeful expression of his features, and the intonations of his voice, made them understand the main incidents of his narrative, and swayed their minds in an extraordinary manner. Alluding to that point of his history at which Cinque described how, when on board the Spanish vessel, he, with the help of a nail, first relieved himself of his manacles, then assisted his countrymen to get rid of theirs, and then led them to the attack of the Spaniards, Lewis Tappan, in the account of the whole proceedings connected with these Amistad captives, which he published, says—“It is not in my power to give an adequate description of Cinque when he showed how he did this, and led his comrades to the conflict, and achieved their freedom. In my younger years I have seen Kemble and Siddons, and the representation of ‘Othello,’at Covent Garden; but no acting that I have ever witnessed, came near that to which I allude.”

Many other members of this interesting group of Africans, exhibited proofs of great mental capabilities; one in particular, named Kali a boy of eleven years old, who astonished his auditors by the readiness with which he learned and repeated words and sentences in the English language, with which he could have had no previous acquaintance. In this language, most of them were enabled to address an audience after they had been in America a very short time. The leading truths of Christianity, which were presented to their minds now, for the first time, they seemed to comprehend with astonishing quickness. One of them, on being asked “What is faith?” replied, “Believing in Jesus Christ, and trusting in him.” Another said, “We owe everything to God; He keeps us alive, and makes us free; when we go home to Mundi, we will tell our brethren about God, Jesus Christ, and heaven.” And home to Mundi, to which country the greater part of them belonged, after a lapse of about three years, from the time of their being brought into New Haven, they did go; a sufficient sum having being raised to charter a ship for their conveyance, and furnish the necessary means for their subsistence, and that of five white missionaries and teachers who accompanied them. They were landed at Sierra Leone, and the British authorities there afforded them every facility for reaching their native country; on the borders of which it was proposed to form a Missionary station or settlement, from whence the light of the blessed Gospel might be gradually introduced into the dark interior.

The Mundians, we learn, are an exceedingly warlike tribe, much given to slave hunting an other abominations. They do not appear, however, to be idolators; and it is a singular fact that they abstain from labour one day in every seven, and have so from time immemorial; they have no religious observance on that day, but their sabbath observance, if we may so call it, consists in dressing, and feasting, and taking their pleasure; pretty much as many nominal Christians do.

THIS is the next intelligent Negro whom we find included in the tract before us; he was born at what date we do not learn, on board a slave vessel bound for Carthagena, in South America, his father and mother being destined for the slave-market of that place, shortly after their arrival at which, the child lost both its parents, the one dying and the other committing suicide in despair. The little black orphan was carried to England and presented by his master to three maiden sisters resident at Greenwich, in whose service he appears to have remained until their death broke up the establishment, when Sancho, who had earned this name, it seems, by his drollery and humour, was taken by the Duchess of Montague in the capacity of butler, so that altogether, his lines appear to have fallen in pleasant places. When the Duchess died, she left her Negro butler an annuity of thirty pounds, and this, with a considerable sum which he had saved out of his salary, ought to have made him pretty comfortable for life. But Sancho had the reputation of a wit and a humourist, which has proved fatal to many, and he led for awhile the life of a man about town, haunting the tavern and the green room of the theatre, and living beyond his means. He had quite a passion for theatrical representations, and was a great admirer of Garrick, who took much notice of him. It was at one time proposed that he should go upon the stage to perform Negro characters, but this project lad to be abandoned, on account of his imperfect articulation.

After awhile he sobered down somewhat, married an interesting West Indian girl, got a family about him, and lived a more regular life. He still, however, kept up his acquaintance with many of his former friends, some of whom were of the higher classes; his letters to these and others, after his death, were published in two volumes, with a portrait of the author. Several of them are on the subject of Negro slavery, for the abolition of which Sancho was, during a good part of his life, an earnest and effectual advocate; he seemed to feel deeply the wrongs and sufferings of his coloured brethren, and omitted no opportunity of pleading their cause. There is a letter of his to Sterne on this subject, which elicited a very characteristic reply; we would fain quote both letter and answer but our limited space will not admit of this; our readers will find both in the tract to which we have frequently referred. It only remains to add that about the latter end of the last century was the period of Ignatius Sancho's most active exertions in behalf of his enslaved countrymen.

WHENEVER an anti-slavery martyrology is written, as one day we hope it will be, Placedo, the Cuban Poet, will assuredly have a place therein. This Negro, whose real name was Gabriel de la Concepcion Valdes, was executed at Havannah, in July, 1844, with several other persons, for inciting the slaves to revolt against their Spanish masters, who had perpetrated on them the most horrible cruelties, and rendered their yoke unbearably galling.

But few particulars appear to be known of the life of Placedo, previous to his appearance at the place of execution, where his manly and heroic bearing excited the sympathy and admiration of all who saw him. He walked to the fatal spot with as much calmness as if it had been to some ordinary resort of business or pleasure; reciting, as he went, a beautiful hymn, which he had composed on the previous night in prison. When arrived there, he sat down as directed, to await the necessary preparations; which being made, he arose, and turning to the shrinking soldiers, his face wearing an expression of almost superhuman courage, he said in Spanish, “Adieu, O world; here is no pity for me. Soldiers, fire!” Five balls entered his body, but did not deprive him of life. Still unsubdued, again he spoke, pointing to his breast, and saying “Here, fire here!” Two more balls then entered his breast and he fell dead.

The Heraldo, a Madrid paper, in giving in account of his execution, speaks of him as the celebrated Cuban Poet, and says “This man was born with great natural genius, and was beloved and appreciated by the most respectable young men of Havannah, who united to purchase his release from slavery.” Some years ago, a volume of “Poems by a Cuban slave,” whose name for ‘certain reasons’ the translator did not deem it advisable to append, was published in this country; and it is now generally believed that these poems were by Placedo. Dr. Madden, who edited the volume, stated that the poems, with which was a memoir of the author, written by himself, were placed in his hands by a gentleman of Havannah, in 1838; at which time it is probable that the purchased release from slavery of Placedo, spoken of in the Heraldo, had not taken place. Many interesting particulars are given in the memoir, which, if we were sure they referred to Placedo we might be tempted to quote; they exhibit a frightful picture of Negro slavery in Cuba, and leave us no room to wonder at any efforts which might be made by the unfortunate Africans to free themselves.

The poems display a very high order of intellect, and are prefaced by Madden these remarks:—“I am sensible that I have not done justice to these poems, but I trust that I have done enough to vindicate, in some degree, the character of Negro intellect; at least the attempt affords me the opportunity of recording my conviction, that the blessings of education and good government are alone wanting to make the natives of Africa, intellectually and morally, equal to the people of any nation on the surface of the globe.”

We cannot more fitly conclude this chapter than with the hymn composed by Placedo on the night previous to his execution, and recited as he walked to the place of death. Several translations of this hymn have been given; the following is perhaps as close to the original as any; it appeared in the “Anti-Slavery Reporter,” for Sept. 6th., 1844, with the initials A P. attached.

THE narrative of Frederick Douglass, published in this country in the year 1845, is one calculated to excite our strongest feelings of pity, and sympathy, and admiration for the man, and of horror and detestation of the system which would make him something less than a man. The following are a few of the leading incidents in the life of this highly gifted champion of his suffering and oppressed race:—He was born a slave on a plantation of Maryland, about the year 1817; few slaves know exactly their own age; Douglass says that he never met with one who could tell the date of his birthday. If an owner were to be asked how old such and such a slave might be, he would reply, “Oh, about so and so last fall,” just as he would speak of a horse or a dog; and this fact alone speaks loudly for the debasing influence of the system, both upon slave and master. The father of Douglass was a white man, and, as it seems more than probable, his mother's owner. This double relation is not unfrequently sustained by the same person in the southern states, so that a parent often sells his own children, which, Douglass says, he is frequently compelled to do out of deference for the feelings of his white wife; “and cruel as the deed may appear, it is often the dictate of humanity for him to do so , for unless he does this, he must not only whip him himself, but must stand by and see one white son tie up his brother of but a few shades darker complexion than himself, and ply the gory lash on his naked back.”

Douglass was separated from his mother when quite an infant: of her he has only a faint recollection of some few stealthy visits paid by night: the frightened, tearful woman bending over her child, whom she must not nurse and fondle, bidden to repress the maternal instincts and yearnings of her womanly nature, driven to labour, tasked beyond her strength, and worn out ere half her natural course was run, she died when her boy was but seven years of age, and the young Mulatto was soon after sent to live with a relative of his master at Baltimore, and here it was that he first began to acquire the rudiments of knowledge: his new mistress, to whose little boy he was intended as a sort of humble companion and protector, taught him the alphabet, and to know the beauty of a white face when lit up with the smile of kindness. She was proceeding with her good work of instruction, when her husband found out what was going on, and interposed his authority, pointing out that it was not only unlawful, but also unsafe, to teach a slave to read; “a nigger,” said he, “should know nothing but to obey his master: if you teach him to read, he will become discontented and unhappy, and for ever unfit to be a slave.” These words, spoken in the hearing of the lad, awoke a train of thought in his breast which did not again slumber. The secret of the white man's power was revealed to him—knowledge, he found, was the key to freedom—and he resolved to win it, and steadily he kept this resolution in view, omitting no opportunity of adding to his little store. Truly interesting is it to follow him through the seven years of his Baltimore life; to notice the shifts and expedients, in no ways disgraceful or dishonourable, by which, with great toil and perseverance, he enriched his mind with that wealth which, slave as he was, eventually placed him far above many of the rich and the free. One or two instances of his ardour and ingenuity in “the pursuit of knowledge under difficulties” we cannot help alluding to. He was accustomed to make friends of all the little white boys whom he met with in the streets, and to convert them into teachers, carrying in his pocket pieces of bread saved from his allowance, with which he rewarded them for their trouble. He constantly carried a book in his pocket, and seldom went on an errand without at the same time learning a lesson therefrom. His master, and his mistress too when told of her error, threw every impediment possible in the way of his acquisition of learning, but all in vain; the lamp was kindled and would burn on.

This is how he learned to write;—Being some time employed in a ship-yard, he noticed that the timbers—prepared, it may be, for one of those “Baltimore clippers” of “middle passage” celebrity—had certain letters marked on them, to denote the position which they were to occupy; by inquiry of the white men, he found out what these letters were called, what they stood for, and then learned to imitate them in chalk, rather awkwardly at first you may he sure. Carrying his piece of chalk in his pocket, if he fell in with a boy whom he knew was a more expert calligraphist than himself, he would say, after giving a specimen of his best style, on the wall or pavement as it might be, “There, beat that if you can!” Of course the urchin thus challenged did his best to beat it, and so little black Freddy, all the while attentively observing him, got a writing lesson gratis. We will let him tell in his own words how he perfected himself in this important art:—“By this time my little Master Thomas had gone to school, and learned how to write, and had written over a number of copy-books. These had been brought home and shown to some of our near neighbours, and then thrown aside. My mistress used to go to class-meeting every Monday afternoon, and leave me to take care of the house. When left thus, I used to spend the time in writing in the spaces left in Master Thomas's copy-book, crossing what he had written. I continued to do this until I could write a hand very similar to Master Thomas. Thus, after a long and tedious effort, I finally succeeded in learning to write.”

The death of Douglass' owner causing a division of the property, he fell to the share of Miss Lucretia, the daughter, and herein was fortunate; for the son, Master Andrew, was a brutal wretch. “I once saw him,” says the narrator, “take my little brother by the throat, throw him on the ground, and with the heel of his boot stamp upon his head, until the blood gushed forth from his nose and ears.” Before he left Baltimore to return once more to the place of his birth, a compilation called the Columbian Orator had fallen into the hands of our young slave. In it were Sheridan's speeches on Catholic Emancipation: there he read bold denunciations of slavery of every kind, and a noble vindication of human rights, which stirred his spirit like a trumpet call. Henceforth, we are told, he had but one aim in life—freedom for himself and his race! This he determined, if possible, to achieve, and the determination was no doubt strengthened by what took place at the valuation of his late master's property. “We were all ranked together. Men and women, old and young, married and single, were ranked with horses, sheep, and swine. There were horses and men, cattle and and children, all holding the same rank in the scale of being, and all subjected to the same narrow examination. Silvery-headed age and sprightly youth, maids and matrons, had to undergo the same indelicate inspection. At this moment I saw more clearly than ever the brutalizing effects of slavery, upon both slave and slaveholder.”

Neither Miss Lucretia nor Master Andrew lived long to enjoy their share of the property, which was dispersed here and there into strange hands. Frederick's poor old grandmother, who had been a faithful servant in her master's family throughout the whole of her lengthened existence—“who had rocked him in infancy, attended him in childhood, served him through life, and in death wiped from his icy brow the cold death sweat and closed his eyes for ever, was nevertheless left a slave in the hands of strangers; and in their hands she saw her children, her grandchildren, and her great-grandchildren divided—divided like so many sheep, without being gratified with the small privilege of a single word as to them or their own destiny.” We would fain quote the whole of the feeling and eloquent description of this poor old servant, turned out to die lonely and unaided, as a reward for her faithful devotion to this ungrateful family, but our limited space will not allow of this; we have already dwelt at too great a length upon the early period of Douglass' history, and must now hasten on to complete our outline sketch.

In 1832 that human chattel called Frederick Douglass fell into the hands of Mr. Thomas Auld, of St. Michaels, “a pious and converted man, but withal excessively mean and cruel, giving his slaves food in scanty proportions, but, to make up for it, blows in abundance—a great religious professor, and a great stumbling-block in the way of true religion.” The remarks of Douglass upon this man, and upon the class which he represents, are extremely forcible, but we must pass on to state that Mr. Auld, finding that his servant had an inconvenient appetite, and some other serious faults, determined on letting him out to a “Nigger broker” for twelve months. Covey was the name of this person, whose mission it was to “break in” obstreperous Negroes; and in the process, as may well be imagined, some unamiable traits of human character were fully developed. Covey believed in the whip, indeed it appears that he believed in nothing else, and he used it most unsparingly. We have in our first chapter called the attention of our readers to Gilbert's picture* of poor Douglass crouching under the lash of this tyrant; let them look at it once more, and realize the state of utter degradation into which even a high-souled, noble man may be forced by the workings of this horrible system. After describing his frequent floggings, so that he was hardly ever free from a sore back, Douglass goes on to say, “If at any one time of my life more than another I was made to drink the bitterest dregs of slavery, that time was during ,the first six months of my stay with Mr. Covey. We were worked in all weathers. It was never too hot or too cold; * “Uncle Tom's Cabin Almanack.” it could never rain, blow, or snow too hard for us to work in the field. Work, work, work was scarcely more the order of the day than the night. The longest days were too short for him. I was somewhat unmanageable when I first went there, but a few months of this discipline soon tamed me. I was broken in body, soul, and spirit; my natural elasticity was crushed; my intellect languished; the disposition to read departed, the cheerful spark that lingered about my eye died; the dark night of slavery closed in upon me.”

But crushed and depressed as he was, his noble spirit was not wholly subdued—his aspirations not altogether quenched; at times there broke through the clouds and thick darkness that surrounded him, gleams of hope—flashes of light from that heaven of freedom for which his soul panted. As he looked upon the noble ships spreading their white sails in the bay of Chesapeake, near which his master's house stood, his soul cast off its trammels; his resolution to be one day free returned, and he looked for the better time that he felt sure was coming for his recompense for all past woes and sufferings. And that better day did at length arrive, when Douglass stood upright and unabashed as a true man should, before God and his fellow-men upon the shores of Great Britain. Here he was kindly received, and heartily welcomed, and after going through the length and breadth of the land, and addressing public meetings out of number on behalf of his countrymen in chains, with a power of eloquence which captivated his auditors, and brought the cause which he pleaded home to their hearts, he returned to America, and by means of the subscriptions raised in this country, his freedom was purchased of his legal master; and an Anti-Slavery paper called the North Star, was established, this he continues to conduct with great ability and success; and by lecturing and other means, promotes the work which he has so much at heart.

We have taken a long leap out of the deep slough of despondence and degradation into which Douglass was at one time plunged, to the high ground of his eventual freedom. Many interesting and affecting incidents of his career lie between, for which we refer our readers to his published narrative. The following extract from an address delivered by William Lloyd Garrison, at Boston, in 1845, is powerfully descriptive of the manner of his first appearance on a public platform:—“In the month of August, 1841,” says he, “I attended an anti-slavery convention in Nantuket, at which it was my happiness to become acquainted with Frederick Douglass. He was a stranger to nearly every member of this body, but having recently made his escape from the southern house of bondage, and feeling his curiosity excited to ascertain the principles and measures of the abolitionists —of whom he had heard a somewhat vague description while he was a slave—he was induced to give his attendance on the occasion alluded to, though at that time a resident in New Bedford.

Fortunate, most fortunate occurrence! fortunate for the millions of his manacled brethren yet panting for deliverance from their awful thraldom! fortunate for the cause of Negro emancipation and of universal liberty! fortunate for the land of his birth, which he has done much to save and bless! fortunate for the large circle of friends and acquaintances whose sympathy and affection he has strongly secured by the many sufferings he has endured, by his virtuous traits of character, by ever abiding remembrances of those who are in bonds, as being bound with him! fortunate for the multitudes in various parts of our republic, whose minds he has enlightened on the subject of Negro slavery, and who have been melted to tears by his pathos or roused to virtuous indignation by his stirring eloquence against the enslavers of men! fortunate for himself, as it at once brought him into the field of public usefulness, ‘gave the assurance of a MAN,’ quickened the slumbering energies of his soul, and consecrated him to the great work of breaking the rod of the oppressor, and letting the oppressed go free.

I shall never forget his first speech at the convention; the extraordinary emotion it excited in my own mind, the powerful impression it created upon a crowded auditory, completely taken by surprise; the applause which followed from the beginning to the end of his felicitous remarks. I think I never hated slavery so intensely as at that moment; my perception of the enormous outrage which is inflicted by it on the godlike nature of its victims, was rendered far more clear than ever. There stood one, in physical proportion and stature— commanding and erect, in natural eloquence a prodigy, in soul manifestly ‘created but a little lower than the angels,’ yet a slave, aye, a fugitive slave, trembling for his safety, hardly daring to believe that on the American soil, a single white person could be found who would befriend him at all hazards, for the love of God and humanity. Capable of high attainments as an intellectual and moral being, needing nothing but a comparatively small amount of cultivation to make him an ornament to society and a blessing to his race. By the law of the land, by the voice of the people, by the terms of the slave code, he was only a piece of property, a beast of burden, a chattel personal, nevertheless!”

was born in the slave-breeding state of Maryland, on the estate of Col. Gordon, who was considered, on the whole, to be a kind and considerate master, and a good man; his goodness, however, we imagine, was only comparative, and not positive; at all events, some of his recorded acts and deeds seem to us those of an extremely bad man. This, perhaps, is owing to our anti-slavery prejudices, and foolish notions about Negro equality. Pennington's father and mother were the chattels of different owners, either of whom could sever when he pleased, the holy bond of matrimony, and so put asunder that which God had joined.

The narrative of James Pennington, “the Fugitive Blacksmith,” as he is sometimes called, was published here in 1849, and from it we gather the particulars given in this sketch, it is a plain unvarnished tale, and bears the impress of truth. Our hero gives no date to his birth, probably because, like Douglass, he knew it not; the first event in his slave life which is recorded, was being given with his mother and an elder brother, to a son of his master, who had married, and was about to settle two hundred miles away, in Washington county. Here was an early breaking up of family ties; the father was left behind, in Maryland, and might at any time be commanded to take another wife, of his master's choosing; as the mother might be forced to connect herself with another husband. This trial, however, was spared them; the father was after a while purchased by the owner of the rest of the family, and so they were reunited. In Pennington's childhood there was little on which he could look back in after years with any degree of pleasure; as soon as his tender limbs could bear the yoke, it was placed upon him, and woe be to him when his strength failed to bear the allotted burthen; curses and stripes from the overseer, and petty persecutions, amounting often to acts of cruelty, from his master's children, were the chief incidents of this period of his existence. Well might the prospect of coming years be to him dark and dismal. With uninstructed mind, and passions checked but not subdued, he grew to maturity a “first-rate blacksmith,” warranted to do a certain amount of skilled labour, and to be satisfied with just so much sustenance as would suffice to keep him from sinking under it.

His market value was so many hundred dollars, according to the demand there might be for such an article; kind treatment, comfortable clothing, and such like, were merely extras to be thrown in as the interest or caprice of the owner might dictate: as for the mind, that was not wanted, so the less said about that the better—let it sleep: machines with minds are apt to have a will of their own, which might run counter to their owner's will—by no means enlighten that! State laws say you must not do it; so keep the mind in ignorance by all means: do not let the machine suspect that it has one. What! a soul to be saved? Ah, Well, time enough to think about that when the physical powers decay—when the article is worn out and thrown by like old lumber; then awake the dying spark, and if you can, fan it into a flame; teach it to aspire, to immortality and heaven. Such glorious themes will no doubt be strange to the poor benighted soul, pressed down beneath a load of good feelings crushed and withered, and of evil passions stimulated to rank luxuriance of growth; but it may be awoke—it may be saved; if not, why it must go; the body is “the property” that we value, the soul is quite a secondary affair; our temporal interests are of more consequence to us than the eternal interests of all the Negroes that were ever created. So say the slave-holders, in effect, if not in words.

But we are forgetting Pennington, who, when about twenty-one years old, was sold, for the sum of seven hundred dollars, but soon afterwards repurchased, and taken back to work upon the estate, where his knowledge of handicrafts made him very useful. With Pennington it seems that the man was never wholly lost in the slave; he had a certain degree, perhaps we should say a proper degree, of pride in the skill of his hands, and the due performance of the work entrusted to him; there was something of manly independence left about him in spite of the scourgings, and taunts, and revilings, and cruel usage which he had received when a boy. Since he had reached mature years, he had, from the nature of his occupation, been less subjected to this sort of usage than the common field hands, who are constantly in fear of the overseer's whip. He tells us that he delighted in giving a neatness and finish to his workings in iron, and in making little articles of use and ornament out of the common way: his intellect was evidently awakening. Perhaps his Master, who we are told was, as respects discipline, “a thorough slave-holder, a perpetualist who would do anything to secure unqualified obedience, saw this, and thought it dangerous to the stability of the “peculiar institution.” At all events he took effectual means to check the growing spirit of independence, and to let not only the young blacksmith, but his whole family, feel that they were slaves, subject to his absolute will. He flogged the father, who seems to have been a useful , industrious, and inoffensive old man, and he flogged the son for no real offence that we can learn; and then by a series of annoyances, and a tyrannical exercise of his power, strove to break their spirits. But in this he failed, as far as the hero of our sketch was concerned; by him an attempt to escape was determined on, and successfully carried out, though not without many struggles and heartaches at leaving his parents. His brother had some years previously passed into the hands of another master—a stonemason in a town, to whom he had been put to learn the trade, and with whom he was pretty comfortable.

We cannot follow Pennington through the toils and terrors of his flight; he had many narrow escapes of a recapture, but finally reached Pennsylvania, where he was secreted and cared for by some members of the Society of Friends, who in America, as elsewhere, are ever foremost in works of mercy and benevolence. With them he remained upwards of a year; learned to read, acquired a knowledge of the truths of salvation, became impressed with deep religious convictions, and then went to New York, where he joined a church, and entered upon a course of study with a view to qualify himself for the ministry, on which his hopes and desires were fixed. What an ambition this for the poor uninstructed Negro—the slave fleeing for life and liberty would fain instruct others in those truths which make all men free. The means by which he acquired the knowledge necessary for his high vocation, are set forth in his narrative in the simple and earnest language of truth; and if we can there read aright the heart of the man, we may say that he is animated with the true apostolic air it of Christian love and charity. His testimony against slavery is full of points which merit the serious attention of all who defend, on any ground, that accursed system; and how forcibly and touchingly is it uttered:—“It is a sin and a wrong which I can never forgive. It robbed me of my education; the injury is irreparable—I feel the embarrassment more seriously now than ever I did before. It cost me two years' hard labour after I had fled, to unshackle my mind; it was three years before I purged language of slavery's idioms; it was four years before I had thrown off the crouching aspect of slavery; and now the evil that besets me is a great lack of that general information, the foundation of which is most effectually laid in that part of life which I served as a slave. When I consider how much more— more than ever—depends upon sound and thorough education among coloured men, I am grievously overwhelmed with a sense of my deficiency, and more especially as I can never hope to make it up. If I know my own heart, I have no ambition but to serve the cause of suffering humanity; all that I have deserved or sought has been to make me more efficient for good. So far I have some consciousness that I have done my utmost;—and should my future days be few or many, I am reconciled to meet the last account, hoping to be acquitted of any wilful neglect of duty: but I shall have to go to my last account with this charge against the system of slavery,—‘Vile monster, thou has hindered me of my usefulness by robbing me of my early education!’ ”

In our opening chapter, we have made some allusion to Pennington's eloquence, and to his justly earned academical honours. He has been now for several years the settled minister of the first coloured Presbyterian church in New York. He is besides a member of the Presbytery, and of various other religious and educational bodies.

TRULY a man tried and found faithful was Josiah Henson, “raised,” like the subjects of our two previous sketches; in Maryland, it was his lot to suffer in early life some of the most aggravated evils of the slavery system. While yet a mere child, he was horrified by the sight of the mangled and bleeding body of his father, who was cruelly scourged for resenting a brutal assault committed on his mother by the overseer of the estate on which the family lived. The sale of the elder Henson followed soon after his punishment, which appears to have so embittered his mind, that he became sullen and morose, and comparatively useless. Then came the death of Dr. Mc'Pherson, who owned Josiah and his mother, and, being a kind-hearted man, treated his slaves well. The human stock on the estate being sold, the mother and child passed into the hands of one Riley, who is described as a coarse, vulgar, and licentious man. Notwithstanding the suffering and privation which Josiah passed in the hands of such an owner, he yet seems to have been diligent and faithful, and even ambitious to excel. In his published narrative of his life he says, in relation to this period, “My objects were to be first in the field, whether we were hoeing, mowing, or reaping; to surpass those of my own age, or indeed any age, in athletic exercises; and to obtain, if possible, the favourable regard of the petty despot who owned us.”

Henson's zeal and assiduity, however, in the service of his master, gave him no higher claims to consideration than those which arose from his increased marketable value, and the slave worked on, to Riley's profit and advantage, without experiencing much of the sunshine of that favour which should have rewarded his efforts. Thus repelled from the object towards which they were at first directed, his feelings and sympathies expanded around those more immediately on his own level—his fellow-slaves and sufferers; and he began to awake to a perception of his and their debased condition. Being a strong, steady, useful hand, in whom confidence might be reposed, he came by degrees to be a sort of leading man on the estate, and he contrived to use his limited power so as, without exciting the jealousy or suspicion or those above him, to mitigate some of the evils under which the slaves groaned; thus he won their love and confidence, and by his persuasions could induce them to labour more earnestly and heartily than they would for all the curses and stripes of the overseer. This functionary happening to die, Henson was appointed to succeed him from motives of policy and the advantage of the change was soon apparent in the increase of the crops and the general improvement of the whole aspect of things on the estate. The owner's extravagant intemperate habits, however, were fast bringing him to ruin; in vain did the poor slaves sweat and toil, and the overseer stimulate them to increased exertion; the money was spent in the gambling-house and the tavern, and other places of profligate resort; and thither had Henson frequently to repair to bring home his brutal master, rendered incapable by drink of leaving unassisted the scene of debauchery. On one of these occasions, finding Riley engaged in a fight, when it is always considered the slave's duty to rush in and save the master at any risk of life or limb, Henson, in performing this duty, had the misfortune to overturn a drunken white man who was staggering about, and required but little to complete his prostration. This was an offence not to be overlooked, and dearly did the faithful Negro pay for it; he was waylaid by the offended person, assisted by three slaves over whom he had control, and so severely beaten, that he was left weltering in his blood, with both his shoulder blades and one arm broken. The miscreant who inflicted these injuries, which rendered Henson a cripple for life, was not punished: no white man witnessed the transaction, and he had only to swear that he acted in self-defence.

For five months did Henson lie upon the earthen floor of his hut, too weak and agonized to leave it; his fractured limbs were merely bound up by a female ignorant of surgery, and permanent distortion was the consequence: he was still, however, retained on the estate, as his skilful management of the hands and crops could not well be dispensed with. He had some time previously been persuaded by his mother to attend the preaching of a pious layman, who was accustomed to address the Negroes on the great concerns of a life hereafter; the text was from Hebrews, ii. 9—“That He by the grace of God should taste of death for every man,” and the speaker dwelt especially upon the fact of the Saviour having died for every man, whether slave or master. This made a great impression upon Henson's mind, and gave him new ideas of the importance of a human soul. The text taught him to set a higher value upon himself and his fellow- slaves; it set him thinking upon subjects high and solemn, and had a wonderful effect in lifting him out of the darkness and degradation of his state of slavery. He became at once a man and a Christian; and well would it be if every one to whom the light of divine truth has been vouchsafed had followed its guidance as faithfully and earnestly as this poor despised and ill used Negro. At the age of twenty-four Henson married a Negro girl who, like himself, was impressed with religious convictions, and who loved him none the less for his elevated shoulders and distorted arms: the union seems to have been a happy one; and we may as well state here that, with this beloved wife and the two children which she bore to him, Henson afterwards effected his escape to Canada. But before this happy period arrived, he had great trials of his integrity to encounter, and wrongs and sufferings to undergo. To a few of these we must allude as briefly as possible.

Finding himself on the verge of ruin, Henson's master, in order thus to save the most valuable part of his property, requested his overseer to conduct his slaves, eighteen in number, to Kentucky, where his brother resided. The commission was a difficult one to execute, but Henson performed it faithfully, passing through a thousand miles of unknown country in the depth of winter without losing a single slave. When in the state of Ohio, it was suggested to him that he had now an opportunity of becoming free, and of liberating his companions in captivity. But no! he had pledged himself to the performance of a certain duty, and no consideration of personal advantage could turn him aside. What was his reward? Listen! After taking care of Riley's Negroes for three years, and conducting their operations on the Kentucky farm with his accustomed skill and success, he, when orders were received to sell them, obtained leave to visit his master in Maryland, and on the way, having previously much improved himself by practice in religious exercises, he managed, by preaching in several pulpits, and stating the object in view, to raise money for the purchase of his release. The price demanded by Riley was four hundred and fifty dollars, and three hundred and fifty were at once paid down. His master had previously endeavoured to dispossess the poor Negro of the pass which authorized his return to Kentucky, and being defeated in this attempt, resorted to another stratagem to prevent his manumission. He made out the certificate of freedom, but affecting great solicitude for its safety, sealed it up and directed it to his brother Amos, telling Henson that, as to break a seal was felony, nobody would dare deprive him of precious document. This placed Henson entirely in the hands of Riley's brother, by whom alone the packet might be legally opened. What was Henson's astonishment to be told on reaching home that he had yet six hundred and fifty dollars to pay, Riley having advised his brother that the price fixed on was a thousand dollars! Thus was the poor Negro tricked and disappointed. After all his exertions, all his reasonable hopes and expectations, he had lost his all and was still a slave! “But,” said he (and mark the Christian spirit of the declaration,) “I consoled myself as well as I could, and set about my work again, with as quiet a mind as I could command, resolved to trust in God and never despair.”

Soon after this Amos Riley, who wanted money, and, like his brother, was restrained by no scruples of conscience, determined on an act of the blackest ingratitude and direst cruelty; this was to send Henson to the New Orleans market for sale. He was accordingly bidden to prepare for a voyage for his master's son, who was to act as salesman, and the poor Negro's heart sank within him when he thought of the separation from his wife and children, and of the dreadful fate which generally awaits the slave who is sold south. On his way to the southern market, thoughts of revenge and plans of escape frequently came into the Negro's mind: on one occasion he resolved upon an act of wholesale murder, and the opportunity was afforded him of carrying his plan in effect; but his affrighted conscience shrunk back from the deed of blood which his phrenzy had suggested, and his arm was mercifully stayed. And now came a crisis in which his character shone out like gold tried in the furnace. Even while he was in treaty for the sale of the injured Negro, Riley was smitten with fever, and brought near to death's door, and was only saved by the unremitting care and attention of his slave, who, instead of escaping, as he might have done, watched over the young man like a brother, and conveyed him, as soon as he was able to bear the voyage, safely back to his home.

This is a beautiful incident, and it ought to convince the most prejudiced reader that there are elements of good in the Negro character, which only require to be quickened and stimulated by religion, to produce an abundant growth of virtues and Christian graces. Henson's life all through is a proof of this. Since his escape to Canada he has devoted himself entirely to the service of his fellow-sufferers in the house of bondage, out of which he has been the principal means of delivering, it is said, no less than one hundred and eighteen persons. He has undergone incredible hardships, and several times risked his life and liberty to effect this. He is earnest and untiring in his efforts to spread the knowledge of the gospel among his brethren and, notwithstanding his defective education, is both a successful and eloquent teacher and preacher. He was one of the chief movers in the establishment of the Dawn Institute in Canada, a portion of land on which are erected schools and other educational buildings, where coloured people are encouraged to settle and instructed in the useful and industrial arts. It was in aid of the funds of this establishment that Henson and his son came to England a short time since; he addressed several large audiences, preached in the pulpits and sat at the, tables of some of our most distinguished ministers and philanthropists. And this is the man who once stood, a poor little trembling piece of sable humanity, on the sale platform of the slave mart, ready to be knocked down to the highest bidder!

was born in Lexington city, Kentucky state, in or about the year 1820; his mother's owner was Dr. Young, a tobacco planter, his father a white man, a near relative of that gentleman, whose disposition, if we may judge from the treatment of his slaves, was cruel and vindictive. “My mother,” says Brown, “was a field hand, and many a time has my heart bled to witness the stripes to which she was subjected.” One morning, he tells us, was particularly impressed upon his memory, when his mother being ten minutes behind her time in the field, that time being half-past four, he heard, as he lay in bed, the crack of the whip of plaited cow-hide and wire as it fell upon her naked back, and listened chilled with horror to her agonizing cry for mercy.

When Brown was about fifteen years old, a stout and hearty lad, Dr. Young sold off his tobacco plantation, and removed to the of St. Louis, soon after which removal he hired out his Negro lad to a Major Freeland, who kept a public house, and was a horse-racer, cock-fighter, gambler, and drunkard. He had about twenty slaves in his house, and used to amuse himself with what he called Virginia play; this consisted in tying up in the smoke-house one of the miserable creatures placed in his power, and whipping him severely, then nearly suffocating him with a fire of tobacco stems which he caused to be lighted around him. The Major had a son named Robert, aged about eighteen, and by him too this exciting sport was much relished. Many were the scenes of horrible cruelty witnessed by Brown while in this man's house and service, from which he attempted to escape, but being taken, had to undergo his share of whipping and smoking. A failure in business led to a transfer of the Negro's service from Freeland to the master of a Mississipi steam-boat named Culver, who appears to have been a humane master; with him, however, Brown did not remain long, his engagement only lasting till the close of the navigation season. His next master was Mr. John Colburn, keeper of the Missouri Hotel, a true “nigger hater,” although a native of a free state. While in his employment Brown's mother, brothers, and sisters were sold by Young to different persons in St. Louis, and thus the family were permanently divided.

After remaining awhile at the Hotel, our hero was engaged by Mr. Lovejoy to assist in the printing office of the St. Louis Times, of which he was proprietor. Here he was well treated and allowed leisure for recreation and instruction, of which he did not fail to avail himself; being naturally sharp and intelligent, he acquired considerable knowledge, and would no doubt have done much more to improve his natural gifts, had not an unfortunate accident put an end to his engagement with Mr. Lovejoy, when he had not been above a year in his service. Having to convey a form of types from another printing office to that of his master, Brown was set upon by a number of white boys, who had seen with jealousy the confidence reposed in the young nigger, and his opportunities of self-instruction. He was so severely handled as to be obliged to fly and leave his types in the street; nor was this all, for having presumed in self-defence to strike, as it was asserted, one of his assailants, the father of the lad inflicted on him so severe a chastisement as to lay him on a sick bed for five weeks, in which space his place at the printing office had to be filled up.

HENRY BIBB was the eldest of seven brothers, all sons of the bondwoman, and sufferers of some of the worst evils and cruel inflictions of American Slavery, which, as Mrs. Stowe fully proves in the fourteenth chapter of her “Key to Uncle Tom's Cabin,” is a very different system from that sanctioned under the Mosaic law, on which pro-slavery writers and preachers are accustomed to base their arguments in defence of the “peculiar institution.” Henry Bibb does not know who his father was; that his mother was a slave was sufficient to decide his lot, and to send him, under fear of the lash, while yet a mere infant, to labour on his master's farm: when sufficiently old to be of much use to any one, he was hired out to one person and another for the space of eight or ten years, the proceeds of his labour going, we are told, to defray the expense of educating his owner's daughters. The year of Henry Bibb's birth was a memorable one—1815; little, however, knew he of European struggles; he had a great battle of his own to fight against tremendous odds, and he seems to have fought it bravely. He formed the determination to be free at a very early age, and nothing could shake it; starvation, imprisonment, scourging, lacerating, punishments of every kind, and of every degree of severity short of actual death, were tried in vain; they could not subdue his indomitable spirit.

His first attempt to escape was made when he was about ten years of age, and from that time to 1840 his life was a constant series of flights and recaptures, the narrative of which makes one thrill and shudder at the sufferings endured and the barbarities inflicted. It is not our purpose to enter into any detail of these, as they can be found in an easily accessible form elsewhere,* but one or two incidents of this exciting narrative we must briefly dwell upon. And first let us observe what a true and loving heart had this despised Negro! He became attached to, and married, a beautiful Mulatto girl named Malinda, by whom he had a daughter, little Frances, and again and again, after he was out of the reach of his pursuers, and might have made good his escape to where no slaveholder dare claim him, did he return to the spot which contained his earthly treasures, hovering about them in the black midnight, and concerting measures for their release from slavery, although he knew it was like running into the jaws of death, and of bondage worse than death. Foes were around him on every side, exasperated, thirsting for revenge; every hand against him; every tongue ready to betray him; but what cared he? He must look upon these dear ones again; he must speak words of comfort to them, and clasp them once more in his arms, if he died in the attempt.

Tell us not of high, chivalrous deeds—of the courage, and prowess, and daring of those excited by the smiles of beauty or the expectation of renown, but look at this poor Negro, friendless and alone, venturing back into that horrible pit * Vide “Uncle Tom's Companions.” of suffering out of which he had barely escaped with his life;—he who had passed through such a fiery ordeal of misery, who had been sunk so deeply into the slough of moral degradation, that one would have supposed that every gentler affection, every noble feeling, must have been destroyed within him, even if such had ever been able to struggle into birth,—think of such as he turning back from his place of security, and—not casting away fear; he could not do this; he was in deadly terror the whole time—but led by a love stronger than even that absorbing fear, going back to the spot where his capture was almost certain, and his cruel and ignominious death more than probable. Verily, in all the records of high-souled humanity we know of nothing more sublime than this. And Henry Bibb is not the only Negro by many, of whom as much might be said, as will have been observed by those who have perused the previous chapters of this work. Pity that such love and devotion did not meet with its appropriate reward; all his efforts to rescue Malinda were unsuccessful, and although for a long time she bore stripes and imprisonments and many cruel inflictions rather than prove unfaithful to him, yet in the end was her virtue overcome, by what means we are left to conjecture. The last time Bibb returned to the scene of his former bondage and sufferings, which was in 1845, she was living a life of shame and infamy in the house of a white man who had become her owner by purchase; her child was with her, and now between them and her husband there was a great gulf which he, noble and true-hearted as he was, could not attempt to pass.

Another incident in the life of our hero should be mentioned, as it throws a strong light upon his integrity of character. His last owner was an Indian of the Cherokee tribe, who bought him for nine hundred dollars of a party of sportsmen whose slave and attendant he was for a time. This Indian was a humane and indulgent master, and although a poor benighted heathen, seemed to understand more of the great law of humanity than the Christian (?) men whose tender mercies Bibb had experienced. He placed great confidence in his slave, gave him a horse to ride, and entrusted him with a money-bag full of gold and silver. And these were chains which the Negro could by no means find it in his heart to break. He had previously made up his mind to escape, but the good Cherokee defeated his purpose by giving him the means and affording him the opportunity to do so! Strange this! but a truth nevertheless: ponder on it, Oh slaveholder of the south! and believe that there is something of goodness even in the breast of a Negro!

The old chief fell ill, and Bibb watched over him day and night, soothed his last hours, and after he was dead prepared his body for the tomb. Then, and not till then, did he commence once more his oft-interrupted pilgrimage towards the land of freedom. Through the wild Indian country he went, and amid the painted savages: here he was comparatively safe, for the slave-hunter came not here, and no one thought of betraying him for a base bribe. We must not, however, longer dwell upon his history. Henry Bibb is now a free man—a Christian man—devoting his best energies to the cause of his countrymen in chains, He too has been in this country to convince us that the prejudice which exists, even here, in many minds against a black skin is as unreasonable as it is unscriptural. He is one of the LIVING WITNESSES who now stand upon the great platform of universal humanity demanding, in language as dignified as it is convincing, a recognition of the right of the Negro to be admitted into the family circle of nations upon terms of equality. Other examples we might adduce—many others—did space permit: there is

THIS tall, fine-looking gentlemanly man of colour; the eloquent preacher and debator; the ordained minister of the gospel; who is, or was lately, in this country—once a slave, and still a slave in the eye of American law. When about eight years of age, his father, mother, sister, and himself, with eight other escaped slaves, found an asylum in the free state of New York; there they remained about seven years, at the end of which time the family circle was broken up by the intrusion of the man-stealers, who had discovered their hiding-place; they all, however, escaped, but there was no longer rest nor safety for them there. Henry happened at the time to be away in a vessel, on board of which he served as cabin-boy, and did not receive the intelligence of the persecution of his family until his return from the voyage. He shortly after entered the African Free School at New York, where, we are told, he soon reached the highest class. He was then admitted into a school of a more advanced character, but here the coloured boys were not permitted to mingle with those of fairer skins, and consequently their opportunities of acquiring knowledge were limited. Garnet, in 1835, travelled to New Hampshire, and entered Canaan Academy, from whence he and some other Negroes were driven by a mob, who burned the house in which they resided. The next year he repaired to the Oneida Institute, desiring to prepare himself for the Gospel ministry; he was well received by the professors and students, and soon won their esteem for his character, and admiration for his abilities. Having graduated at the Whilestown School in 1840, and received his diploma, he was finally ordained a minister of the Presbyterian Church, from which church, however, he retired in 1847, on account of its connexion with slavery.

This is a very brief outline of his career He is a man undoubtedly of high intellectual powers; his pulpit discourses have in them much of real poetry as well as fervent piety; and his political and other addresses are described as most powerful to sway the hearts of his hearers, especially those of his own kindred and complexion, on whose past and present condition and future destiny, he has published an able treatise. He is a strenuous advocate for freedom, temperance, education, and all that can elevate and refine the human mind; and may be looked upon as altogether one of the choice spirits of the age. The island of Jamaica is understood to be his future field of missionary operations; to free, enlightened, republican America, while the Fugitive Slave Law is in existence, it would not be safe for him to return.

we may just allude to, although we have some doubts if he is yet living; he came into this country, as a place of refuge, in 1835. His published narrative, the truth of which there seems no reason to doubt, is full of the most thrilling and startling incidents. He was a native of Caswell county, North Carolina, in which state and South Carolina, his slave-life was passed. Mary Howitt sweetly sings—

But, oh! how deeply is that cotton dyed in human blood before it reaches the Manchester market; there is a stain in it which no bleaching will ever take out. Nothing has so forcibly impressed us with this truth as the perusal of Roper's narrative. Well might the poor slave make the most desperate efforts to escape from such a Pandemonium as the cotton plantation is represented to be. Roper's run-away excursions were even more numerous than those of Garnet, and the punishments, consequent on them, of course more frequent. One wonders how the human frame could sustain such a merciless infliction of tortures of every kind; assuredly a horse or a dog must have died under them; but wonderful are the powers of endurance in man, especially Negroes! Moses Roper tells us that on one occasion, when he was overtaken by his pursuers, and unmercifully beaten near a planter's residence, the lady of the house came out, and begged that he might not be killed so near the house: killed he might be, so that it were out of sight, and with a due regard to public decency. All planters' ladies, however, are not so sensitive; according to the testimony of Roper, and other sufferers, the mistress sometimes directs in person the most degrading and brutal punishment of her slaves, if she does not inflict it with her own hand. Roper's woolly hair was the only indication of his being a Negro; his skin was as fair as that of many white men.

is another coloured gentleman, who has lately been amongst us, preaching and lecturing, and otherwise appealing to the British public in behalf of the Canada Anti-Slavery Society. He, too, is a Gospel minister, and his services are, we apprehend, none the less acceptable to God on account of his dark complexion. Great moral worth and intellectual powers are undoubtedly his.

with whom we must close our list—leaving unnoticed many Living Witnesses of Negro ability—is a pure African, and a striking example of what such can become by religious and literary culture. He is one of the only four Episcopally- ordained coloured clergymen of the United States. In 1848 he visited England, and spoke at the annual meeting of the Anti- Slavery Society in London. He also, by permission of the Bishop of the diocese, preached, in St. George's Church, Liverpool, a sermon on the text “That they which have believed in God might be careful to maintain good works.” (Titus, iii. 8,) and filled his numerous auditors with wonder at his attainments, and admiration at his christian and philanthropic views.

We cannot better conclude this chapter than by quoting a portion of his noble “Eulogy on the Life and Character of Thomas Clarkson,” which was delivered at New York in 1847, and afterwards published in a pamphlet extending to forty closely- printed octavo pages. The man who could utter such sentiments in such language belongs to no inferior race. Listen to him and be convinced, oh, doubters of Negro capacity! Addressing his coloured brethren he says, “Let us not be unmindful of the prerogatives and obligations arising from the fact, that the exhibition of the greatest talent, and the development of the most enlarged philanthropy in the nineteenth century have been bestowed upon our race. The names of the great lights of the age—Statesmen, Poets, and Divines, in all the great countries of Europe, and in this country, too, are inseparably connected with the cause and destiny of the African race. This has been the theme whence most of them have reaped honour and immortality. This cause has produced the development of the most noble character of modern times:—has given the world a Wilberforce and a Clarkson. Lowly and depressed as we have been, and as we now are, yet our interests and our welfare, have agitated the chief countries of the world, and are now before all other questions, shaking this nation to its very centre. The providences of God have placed the Negro race before Europe and America in the most commanding position. From the sight of us, no nation, no statesman, no ecclesiastic, and no ecclesiastical institution, can escape. And by us and our cause the character and greatness of individuals and of nations in this day and generation of the world are to be decided, either for good or evil: and so, in all coming times, the memory and the fame of the chief actors now on the stage will be decided by their relation to our cause. The discoveries of Science, the unfoldings of Literature, the dazzlings of Genius, all fade before the demands of this cause. This is the age of BROTHERHOOD AND HUMANITY, and the Negro race is its most distinguished test and criterion.

And for what are all these providences? For nothing? He who thinks so must be blinded—must be demented. In these facts are wound up a most distinct significance, and with them are connected most clear and emphatic obligations and responsibilities. The clear-minded and thoughtful coloured men of America must mark the significance of these facts, and begin to feel their weight. For more than two centuries we have been working our way from the deep and dire degradation into which Slavery had plunged us. We have made considerable headway. By the vigorous use of the opportunities of our partial freedom we have been enabled, with the Divine blessing, to reach a position of respectability and character. We have pressed somewhat into the golden avenues of Science, Intelligence, and Learning. We have made impressions there; and some few of our foot-prints have we left behind. The mild light of Religion has illumined our pathway, and Superstition and Error have fled apace. The greatest paradoxes are evinced by us. Amid the decay of nations, a rekindled light starts up in us. Burdens under which others expire, seem to have lost their influence upon us; and, while they are ‘driven to the wall,’ destruction keeps far from us its blasting hand. We live in the region of death, yet seem hardly mortal. We cling to life in the midst of all reverses; and our nerveful grasp thereon cannot easily be relaxed. History reverses its mandates in our behalf:—our dotage is in the past. ‘Time writes not its wrinkles on our brow;’ our juvenescence is in the future. All this, with the kindly nature which is acknowledgedly ours—with gifts of freedom vouchsafed us by the Almighty in this land, in part, and in the West Indies; with the intellectual desire everywhere manifesting itself, and the exceeding interest exhibited for Africa by her own children, and by the christian nations of the world, are indications from which we may not gather a trivial meaning, nor a narrow significance.

The teaching of God in all these things, is, undoubtedly, that ours is a great destiny, and that we should open our eyes to it. God is telling us all that whereas the past has been dark grim, and repulsive, the future shall be glorious; that the horrid traffic shall yet be entirely staunched; that the whips and brands, the shackles and fetters of slavery shall be cast down to oblivion; that the shades of ignorance and superstition that have so long settled down upon the mind of Africa shall be dispelled; and that all her sons on her own broad continent, in the Western Isles, and in this Republic, shall yet stand erect beneath the heavens; “With freedom chartered on their manly brows;” their bosoms swelling with its noblest raptures—treading the face of Earth in the links of Brotherhood and Equality, and in the possession of an enlarged and glorious Liberty.

May we be equal to these providences, may we prove deserving of such a destiny! God grant that when at some future day our ransomed and cultivated posterity shall stand where we now stand, and bear the burdens that we now bear, and reap the fruits of our foresight, our virtues, and our endeavours. And may they have the proud satisfaction of knowing that we, their ancestors, uncultured and unlearned, amid all trials and temptations, were men of integrity, recognized with gratefulness their truest friends dishonoured and in peril—were enabled to resist the seductions of ease and the intimidations of power—were true to themselves, the age in which they lived, their abject race, and the cause of man— shrank not from trial, nor from suffering; but conscious of responsibility, and impelled by duty, gave themselves up to the vindication of the high hopes and the lofty aim of TRUE HUMANITY.”