he white man's purposes prevailed, and no person would
allow him to enter his house. He says, "I was regarded with astonishment
and fear, and was obliged to sit all day without food, under the shade
of a tree. The wind rose, and there was great appearance of a heavy
rain, and the wild beasts are so very numerous in the neighborhood, that
I should have been under the necessity of resting among the branches of
the tree. About sunset, however, as I was preparing to pass 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. Perceiving that I was weary and dejected, she 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 hungry, she went out, and soon returned with a very fine
fish, which being broiled upon some embers, she gave me for supper. The
women then resumed their task of spinning cotton, and lightened their
labor with songs, one of which must have been composed extempore, for
I was myself the subject of it. It was sung by one of the young women,
the rest joining in a kind of chorus. The air was sweet and plaintive,
and the words literally translated, were these:

"The winds roar'd, 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 man;
No mother has he to bring him milk,
No wife to grind his corn."

[Illustration: Engraving]

The reader can fully sympathize with this intelligent and liberal-minded
traveller, when he observes, "Trifling as this recital may appear, the
circumstance was highly affecting to a person in my situation. I was
oppressed with such unexpected kindness, and sleep fled from my eyes. In
the morning, I presented my compassionate landlady with two of the four
brass buttons remaining on my waistcoat; the only recompense I could
make her."

The Duchess of Devonshire, whose beauty and talent gained such extensive
celebrity, was so much pleased with this African song, and the kind
feelings in which it originated, that she put it into English verse, and
employed an em