laid to entice them away from a kind master, and to plunge them into some dreadful degradation and suffering.  “Master” had not told them of the adverse winds, and they were certain that some mischief was intended; they grew sullen and disobedient; and notwithstanding the kindness of Mr. Lundy, they murmured and complained, until his kind heart sank within him; still he pursued the even tenor of his way, trusting in God for deliverance.  He watched over them in sickness, and administered to all their wants; but his tender solicitude for their health and comfort, only excited suspicion, and increased their ungrateful ill humor.

One pleasant evening, Mr. Lundy paced the deck in deep thought.  He was sad, and well nigh hopeless.  He had seen enough in the fierce look and sullen scowl; and had heard enough of the bitterness, and threatening anger of the negroes, to know that a storm was gathering, which must soon burst in all its wild fury over his devoted head.  He was a small, feeble man, compared with those who watched his every movement, and gnashed their teeth upon him so fiercely.  None but the Almighty could save him now; and to Him who “rides upon the wings of the wind, and maketh the clouds His chariot,” he drew near in fervent prayer; after which he retired in peace and confidence to his berth.  During the night, a fine breeze sprang up; and when he went on deck the next morning, they were in sight of the luxuriant shore of Hayti!  The officers of the island boarded the ship; but their language was unintelligible to the negroes, who still looked daggers at every one who spoke.  They landed; but the fearful, and ungrateful slaves continued sullen and forbidding.  Mr. Lundy left them, however, and went into the country, where he selected their future residence; and made every preparation for their comfort and convenience in his power; saw them conveyed to their neat, pleasant homes, and all happily settled.  This work was accomplished; and he merely called to bid adieu to his ungrateful charge, when he found that one of the slaves had been appointed to speak to him, in behalf of the whole number, and confess how deeply they had wronged him.  While they were conversing, the others gathered around, with tears and prayers for forgiveness; and finally fell at his feet, imploring pardon for themselves, and blessings on the kind, patient and humane Benjamin Lundy.  He hurried from the affecting scene, and soon after returned to America.

Thus that cold evening passed more pleasantly away in our rude cabin; and our Canandaigua gentlemen, after an agreeable acquaintance, and pleasant chat with Mr. Lundy, retired for the night—­not like savages, but like gentlemen as they were; and I doubt not, with a more exalted opinion of “the deaf old devil in the corner”

CHAPTER XXV.

PRIVATE LOSSES AND PRIVATE DIFFICULTIES.