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A CHAPTER ON SLAVERY.
instances does Park relate of their kindness to him, while wandering in the wilds of the African continent![1]
- ↑ One of these we cannot forbear extracting. Park, after escaping from the Moors, had reached Sego, the capital of the kingdom of Bambsrra, where for the first time he saw the long looked-for river Niger. The king, on hearing of Park’s arrival. forbade his crossing the river to visit him-probably with the well-meant purpose of keeping him out of the hands of his enemies, the Moore, who were numerous in that capital. He was thus left in a very uncomfortable situation. "I was regarded," he says, "with astonishment and few, and was obliged to sit all day without victuals under the shade of a tree; and the night threatened to be very uncomfortable, for the wind arose, and there was great appearance of a heavy rain; and the wild beasts are so very numerous in this neighborhood, that I should have been under the necessity of climbing up the tree, and resting amongst the branches. About sunset, however, as I was preparing to spend the night in this manner, and had turned my horse loose that he might graze at liberty, — a woman, returning from the labors of the field, stopped to observe me, and, perceiving that I was weary and dejected, inquired into my situation, which I briefly explained to her; whereupon, with looks of great compassion, she took up my saddle and bridle, and told me to follow her. Having conducted me into her hut, she lighted a lamp, spread a mat on the floor, and told me I might remain there for the night. Finding that I was very hungry, she said she would procure me something to eat. She accordingly went out, and returned in a short time with a very fine fish, which, having caused to be half broiled upon some embers, she gave me for supper. The rites of hospitality being thus performed towards a stranger in distress, my worthy benefactress (pointing to the mat, and telling me I might sleep there without apprehension), called to the female part of the family, who had stood gazing on me all the while in fixed astonishment, to resume their task of spinning cotton, in which they continued to employ themselves a great part of the night. They lightened their labor with songs, one of which was composed extempore, for I was myself the subject of it. It was sung by one of the young women, the rest joining in a sort of chorus. The air was sweet and plaintive; and the words literally translated were these: — ‘The winds roared and the rains fell. The poor white man, faint and weary. came and sat under our tree. He has no mother to bring him milk, no wife to grind his corn. Chorus. — Let us pity the white mam — no mother
