The negro laughed, looked down, shook his head and twisted round his cap which he had in his hand, and at length exclaimed, again looking up with an expression of humour and inventive acuteness;
“Now, massa, look'ee here! The gospel is now being preached over the whole of Africa; and if I had remained there, what was to hinder me from being one who heard it as well there as here?”
To this there was no reply to be made; and the sensible, good-tempered negro had the last word.
One of our pleasant incidents was that our dominant lady left us by the way, to domineer, I should imagine, in some boarding-house of one of the cities in this part of Florida; and the atmosphere became much less oppressive in our little community in consequence. Miss Dix left us also to go to St. Augustin, the most southern city of the United States; the prisons and benevolent institutions of which place she wished to visit. Wherever she goes she endeavours to do good to the sick, the neglected, or the criminal, and to scatter the seed of spiritual culture wherever she is able. She scatters about her, like morning dew, as she goes on her way little miniature books called “Dewdrops,” containing religious proverbs, and numbers of small tracts, with pretty wood-cuts and ditto stories. Molly of the Sand-hills ought to derive nourishment from this manna which would suffice to make her a thinking and amiable woman.
St. Augustin was founded by the Spaniards, and is the oldest city in North America; the city still preserves the character and style of building which prove its origin, but of late years it has very much fallen into decay, and since the destruction by frost of the orange plantations, which constituted the principal branch of trade in the city, it has become still more deserted. It is now visited generally by invalids, who, during the winter months come hither to breathe its pleasant atmosphere and
