NARRATIVE. (continued 2)

On the 17th, the Captain put eight of us on board the bark H. W. Tyler, for New York; we had about a mile to walk; the Captain was in honor bound to return us our passage money, which we had paid him at Jamaica; he came without it to see if we were there, and went away saying he would soon return with it; but we saw no more of him or our money! Our bark, and a vessel loaded with slaves, were towed down the river by the same steamer; we dropped anchor at the bottom of the bay, as a storm was rising. The 18th, on Sabbath, it rained all day. Captain Tyler knocked at my door, wishing me to come out; it rained hard; the bulwork of the bark was so high I could not look over it; he placed something for me to stand on, that I might see the awful sight, which was the vessel of slaves laying at the side of our ship; the deck was full of young men, girls and children, bound to Texas for sale! Monday, the 19th, Captain Tyler demanded of us to pay him for our passage. I had but ten dollars, and was determined not to give it; he was very severe with all. I told him there were articles enough to pay him belonging to me. Those who had nothing, were obliged to go back in the steamer. Tuesday, the 20th, we set sail; the storm was not over. The 22d the gale took us; we were dismasted, and to save sinking, sixty casks of molasses were stove in, and holes cut in the bulworks to let it off; all the fowls, pigs, and fresh provisions, were lost. We were carried seventy-five miles up the bay of Mexico. The Captain was determined not to pay the steamer for carrying him back to New Orleans, and made his way the best he could.

The 3d of October we arrived again at Key West. The Captain got the bark repaired, and took on board a number of turtles, and a plenty of brandy. Friday, the 7th, set sail for New York; the Captain asked me why I did not go ashore when there in the Comet; "had you," said he, "they intended to beat you. John and Lucy Davenport, of Salem, laid down the first ten dollars towards a hundred for that person who should get you there." The Florida laws are about the same as those at New Orleans. He was very talkative; wished to know if I saw any thing of the Creole's crew while at Jamaica. I told him they were all safe, a fine set of young men and women; one dear little girl, that was taken from her mother in Virginia, I should have taken with me, if I had had the money. He said his brother owned the Creole, and some of the slaves were his. "I never owned any; I have followed the sea all my life, and can tell every port and town in your State."

October 19th, 1842, arrived at New York, and thankful was I to set my feet on land, almost famished for the want of food; we lost all of our provisions; nothing was left but sailors' beef, and that was tainted before it was salted. I went at once to those who professed to be friends, but found myself mistaken. I hardly knew what was best. I had put up at Mrs. Raweses; she did all she could to raise the twenty-five dollars that I must pay before I could take my baggage from the vessel. This seemed hard to obtain; I travelled from one to another for three days; at last I called at the Second Advent office; Mr. Nath'l Southard left his business at once, and took me to Mr. Lewis Tappan and others; they raised the money, and went with me to the ship after my baggage. It was three o'clock on Saturday afternoon when I called on Mr. Southard; the vessel and Captain belonged to Virginia, was all ready for sea, waiting for a wind; they had ransacked my things. I took from Jamaica forty dollar's worth of preserved fruits; part were lost when we were cast away in the Cornet, and some they had stolen. At eight o'clock on Saturday evening, I made out to have my things landed on the wharf; it was very dark, as it rained hard. My kind friend did not leave me until they were all safely lodged at my residence. I boarded there three weeks, thinking to come home; but it was thought best for me to wait, and see if Captain Miner came or not, hoping that I might recover my loss through him. I took a room and went to sewing, and found the people very kind.

February, 1843, the colored men that went back to New Orleans, for the want of passage money, arrived at New York, wearied out. All the white people remained there. I waited in New York until the last of July, when I started for Boston. August 1st, 1843, arrived, poor in health and poor in purse, having sacrificed both, hoping to benefit my fellow-creatures. I trust it was acceptable to God, who in his providence preserved me in perils by land and perils by sea.

Having lost all, I determined, by the help of God, to leave the event; some of my friends in this city sympathized with me, and others took the advantage to reproach me. But in the hands of the Lord there is a cup; the Saviour drank it to the dregs. They gather themselves together; they hide themselves; they mark my steps; they waited for my soul, but the Lord is my defence, the Holy One of Israel is my Saviour. I'll trust him for strength and defence. What things were gain to me, I counted loss for Christ, for whom I have suffered all things; and do count them nothing, that I may win Christ and be found in him, not having mine own righteousness, which is of the Lord, but that which is through the faith of Christ, that which is of God by faith, that I may know him, and the power of his resurrection, and the fellowship of his sufferings, being made conformable unto his death, strengthened with all might, according to his glorious power, unto all patience and long-suffering, with joyfulness, thinking it not strange concerning the fiery trials, as though some strange thing happened; for saith the apostle, it is better if the will of God so be that ye suffer for well doing, than for evil; they think it strange that ye run not with them to the same excess of riot, speaking evil of you. If they do these things in a green tree, what shall be done in a dry?

The first twenty months after my arrival in the city, notwithstanding my often infirmities, I labored with much success, until I hired with and from those whom I mostly sympathized with, and shared in common the disadvantages and stigma that is heaped upon us, in this our professed Christian land. But my lot was like the man that went down from Jerusalem and fell among thieves, which stripped him of his raiment, and wounding him departed, leaving him half dead. What I did not lose when cast away, has been taken from my room where I hired. Three times I had been broken up in business, embarrassed and obliged to move, when not able to wait on myself. This has been my lot. In the midst of my afflictions, sometimes I have thought my case like that of Paul's, when cast among wild beasts. "Had not the Lord been on my side, they would have swallowed me up; but blessed be the Lord who hath not given me a prey to their teeth."

In 1848 and '49, the Lord was pleased to lay his hand upon me. Some of my friends came to my relief; but the promises of God were neither few nor small; he knows them that trust and fear him, and in his providence had reserved the good Samaritan. One of my unretired friends made my case known to the Rev. Dr. Bigelow and wife, who sought me out in my distress. I shall not soon forget the morning she came to me, with an expression of love and kindness, wishing to know my case. Mrs. Bigelow was the daughter of Captain Theodore Stanwood, of Gloucester, whom Mr. Prince sailed with as steward the first time he went to Russia. Mrs. B. is one of the kind friends I speak of, when carried to Gloucester sick, in 1814; she was then a little miss. A friend of mine lived with her mother; she used to say that Amelia would not rest, when she came from school, till she had something to bring to my mother and me. Mrs. Bigelow and family were very kind, doing all in their power to make me comfortable, and even moved me from the house of the tyrant that I then hired from, and raised me up other kind friends; and, with the blessing of God and the counsel of Dr. Grey, my health is much improved. "I am as a wonder unto many, but the Lord is my strong refuge." Underneath him is the everlasting arm of mercy; misfortune is never mournful for the soul that accepts it, for such do always see that every cloud is an angel's face; sorrow connects the soul with the invisible.

O Father, fearful indeed is this world's pilgrimage, when the soul has learned that all its sounds are echos, all its sights are shadows. But lo! a cloud opens, a face serene and hopeful looks forth and saith, "Be thou as a little child, and thus shalt thou become a seraph, and bow thyself in silent humility and pray, not that afflictions might not visit, but be willing to be purified through fire, and accept it meekly."