LESSON ONE HUNDREDTH

The Orphan's Retrospect.

My father and mother are dead,
No friend or relation I have:
And now the cold earth is their bed,
And daisies grow over the grave.

I cast my eyes into the tomb,

The sight made me bitterly cry;
I said, and is this the dark room
Where my father and mother must lie!

I cast my eyes round me again,
In hopes some protector to see:
Alas! but the search was in vain,
For none had compassion on me.

I cast my eyes up to the sky,

I groaned, though I said not a word;
Yet God was not deaf to my cry,
The friend of the fatherless heard.

O yes and he graciously smiled,
And bid me on him to depend;
He whispered-fear not, little child,
For I am thy father and friend.

LESSON ONE HUNDRED AND FIRST.

Two African Chiefs.

The king of Foota Torra, inflamed with a zeal for propagating his religion, had sent an embassy to Damel, king of the Jaloffs. The ambassador, on the

present occasion, was accompanied by two of the principal Bushreens, who carried each a large knife fixed on the top of a long pole. As soon as he had procured admission into the presence of Damel, and announced the pleasure of his sovereign, he ordered the Bushreens to present the emblems of his mission.

The two knives were accordingly laid before Damel, and the ambassador explained himself as follows: "With this knife," said he, "Abdulkader will condescend to shave the head of Damel, if Damel will embrace the Mahomedan faith; and with this other knife, Abdulkader will cut the throat of Damel, if Damel refuses to embrace it;— take your choice."

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Damel cooly told the ambassador that he had no choice to make; he neither chose to have his head shaved, nor his throat cut; and, with this answer, ambassador was civilly dismissed. Abdulkader took his measures accordingly, and, with a powerful army, invaded Damel's country. The inhabitants of the towns and villages filled up their wells, destroyed their provisions, carried off their effects, and abandoned their dwellings, as he approached.

By this means, he was led on from place to place, until he had advanced three days' journey into the country of the Jaloffs. He had indeed met with no opposition, but his army had suffered so much from the scarcity of water, that several of his men had died by the way. This induced him to direct his march towards a watering place in the woods, where his men, having quenched their thirst, and being overcome with fatigue, lay down carelessly to sleep among the bushes.

In this situation, they were attacked by Damel, before daybreak, and completely routed. Many of them were trampled to death, as they lay asleep, by the Jaloff horses; others were killed in attempting to make their escape; and a still greater number were taken prisoners. Among the latter, was Abdulkader

himself. This ambitious, or rather frantic prince, who but a month before had sent the threatening message to Damel, was now himself led into his presence as a miserable captive.

The behavior of Damel on this occasion, is never mentioned but in terms of the highest approbation; and it was, indeed, so extraordinary in an African prince, that the reader may find it difficult to give credit to the recital. When his royal prisoner was brought before him in irons, and thrown upon the ground, the magnanimous Damel, instead of setting his foot upon his neck, and stabbing him with his spear, according to the custom in such cases, addressed him as follows: "Abdulkader, answer me this question; if the chance of war had placed me in your situation, and you in mine, how would you have treated me?"

"I would have thrust my spear into your heart," returned Abdulkader, with great firmness, "and know that a similar fate awaits me."-"Not so,' said Damel; "my spear is indeed red with the blood of your subjects killed in battle, and I could now give it a deeper stain, by dipping it in your own; but this would not build up my towns, nor bring to life the thousands who fell in the woods. I will not, therefore, kill you in cold blood, but I will retain you as my slave, until I perceive that your presence in your own kingdom will be no longer dangerous to your neighbors, and then I will consider of the proper way of disposing of you."

Abdulkader was accordingly retained, and worked as a slave for three months; at the end of which period, Damel listened to the solicitations of the inhabitants of Foota Torra, and restored to them their king. Strange as this story may appear, I have no doubt of the truth of it. It was told me at Malacotta, by the Negroes; it was afterwards related to me by the Europeans on the Gambia; by some of the French at

Goree; and confirmed by nine slaves, who were taken prisoners along with Abdulkader, by the watering place in the woods, and carried in the same ship with me to the West Indies.

The distress which the inhabitants of Guinea experience at the loss of their children, which are stolen from them by the persons employed in the slave trade, is, perhaps, more thoroughly felt than described. But, as it is a subject to which every person has not attended, the following is an attempt to represent the anguish of a mother, whose son and daughter were taken from her by a ship's crew, belonging to a country where the God of justice and mercy, is owned and worshipped.

"Help! O help! thou God of Christians!
Save a mother from despair;

Cruel white men steal my children,

God of Christians! hear my prayer.

"From my arms by force they 're rended,

Sailors drag them to the sea

Yonder ship at anchor riding,
Swift will carry them away.

"There my son lies, pale and bleeding,
Fast, with thongs, his hands are bound;
See the tyrants, how they scourge him!
See his sides, a reeking wound!

"See his little sister by him,
Quaking, trembling, how she lies!

Drops of blood her face besprinkle,
Tears of anguish fill her eyes.

"Now they tear her brother from her!
Down below the deck he 's thrown;
Stiff with beating-through fear, silent,
Save a single death-like groan.'

Hear the little daughter begging:
"Take me, white men, for your own;
Spare! oh, spare my darling brother!
He's my mother's only son.

See, upon the shore she 's raving;
Down she falls upon the sands-
Now she tears her flesh with madness,
Now she prays with lifted hands.

"I am young, and strong, and hardy;
He's a sick and feeble boy-
Take me, whip me, chain me, starve me,
All my life I'll toil with joy.

"Christians, who's the God you worshi,
Is he cruel, fierce, or good?
Does he take delight in mercy,
Or in spilling human blood?

"Ah! my poor distracted mother,
Hear her scream upon the shore"-
Down the savage captain struck her,
Lifeless on the vessel's floor.

Up his sails he quickly hoisted, "
To the ocean bent his way-
Headlong plunged the raving mother,
From a rock into the sea.