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He stopped, and seemed much affected.
'My friend,' said I, I will now pray with you for your own soul, and for those of your parents also.'
'Do, Massa, dat is very goot and kind, do pray for poor Negro souls here and every where.'
This was a new and solemn 'house of prayer.' The sea-sand was our floor, the heavens were our roof, the cliffs, the rocks, the hills, and the waves, formed the walls of our chamber. It was not indeed a place where prayer was wont to be made, but for this once, it became a hallowed spot: it will by me ever be remembered as such. The presence of God was there.-I prayed. The Negro wept.-His heart was full. I felt with him and wept likewise.
The last day will shew, whither our tears were not the tears of sincerity and Christian love.
It was time for my return, I leaned upon his arm as we ascended the steep cliff in my way back to my horse, which I had left at the top of the hill. Humanity and thankfulness were marked in his countenance. I leaned upon his arm with the feelings of a brother. It was a relationship I was happy to own.-I took him by the hand at parting, appointed one more interview previous to the day of baptizing him, and bid, him farewell for the present.
'God bless you, my dear Massa.'
'And you, my fellow Christian, for ever and ever. Amen.'
