And ah, no wife or mother's care
For him the milk or corn prepare.
CHORUS.
The white man shall our pity share;
Alas, no wife, or mother's care,
For him the milk or corn prepare.
The storm is o'er, the tempest past,
And mercy's voice has hush'd the blast;
The wind is heard in whispers low;
The white man far away must go;—
But ever in his heart will bear
Remembrance of the negro's care.
CHORUS.
Go, white man, go—but with thee bear
The negro's wish, the negro's prayer.
Remembrance of the negro's care.
At another time, Mr Park thus continues his narrative: "A little before sunset, I descended on the northwest side of a ridge of hills, and as I was looking about for a convenient tree, under which to pass the night, (for I had no hopes of reaching any town) I descended into a delightful valley, and soon afterward arrived at a romantic village called Kooma. I was immediately surrounded by a circle of the harmless villagers. They asked me a thousand questions about my country, and in return for my information brought corn and milk for myself, and grass for my horse; kindled a fire in the hut where I was to sleep, and appeared very anxious to serve me."
Afterward, being robbed and stripped by banditti in the wilderness, he informs us that the robbers stood considering whether they should leave him quite destitute: even in their minds, humanity partially prevailed over avarice; they returned the worst of two shirts, and a pair of trowsers; and as they went away, one of them threw back his hat. At the next village, Mr Park entered a complaint to the Dooty, or chief man, who continued very calmly smoking while he listened to the narration: but when he had heard all the particulars, he took the pipe from his mouth, and tossing up the sleeve of his cloak with an indignant air, he said, "You shall have everything restored to you—I have sworn it." Then, turn-
