glish."

"How did you like a man-of-war?" inquired Newton.

"Man-of-war very fine place; but all slaves there--captain steal men
every ship he come to. But sailor no tink so; ebery night we all sing,
Britong nebber, nebber, nebber, will be slave. Make me laugh, sar,"
continued the man, showing his teeth with a broad grin.

"What was the frigate's name?"

"Very fine name, sar, call her _Daddy Wise_."[1]

[Footnote 1: _Dedaigneuse_, we suppose.]

"How long were you on board of her?"

"Far year, sar; larn carpenter trade--go to England--pay off--get plenty
money--come out here in marchant vessel; England very fine place, but
too much cold," said the negro, shuddering at the bare recollection.

"Now, tell me," said Kingston, "of course you recollect being in your
own country? Which do you like best--that or this?"

"Ashantee very good country--Barbadoes very good country. Ashantee
nebber work, hab no money--here plenty work, plenty money."

"Well, but where would you rather be--here or there?"

"Don't know, sar. Like to find country where no work, plenty money."

"Not singular in his opinion," observed Newton.

"Men do all work here, sar: women only talk," continued the negro. "My
country, men nebber work at all--women do all work, and feed men."

"Then what does the man do?" inquired Berecroft.

"Man, sar," replied the negro, proudly, "man go fight--go kill."

"Is that all?"

"Yes, sar, that all."

"So, you then mean to say, that if you could go back to Ashantee now you
would remain there?"

"Yes, sar, stay there--do no work--sleep all day--make women feed me."

"How inveterate is early habit!" observed Mr Berecroft. "This man,
although free in a civilised country, would return to his idleness, and
resume his former ignorance."

"And so would every slave not born in the country. It requires one or
two generations to destroy this savage nature," replied Kingston. "I
believe, idleness, like gout, to be a hereditary disease, either in
black or white; I have often observed it in the latter. Now, until man
labours there is no chance of civilisation: and, improved as the race of
Africa have been in these islands, I still think that if manumitted,
they would all starve. In their own country nature is so bountiful that
little or no labour is required for the support of life; but in these
islands the soil, although luxuriant, must be nurtured."

"You do then look forward to their ultimate freedom?" inquire