Although it is commonly remarked that gratitude is not a prominent virtue among the slaves, I may mention to you an additional fact, in proof that they are not destitute of this amiable quality. On the morning of January 13th, a well-looking robust negro unexpectedly presented himself at my door, tendering his services, and begging that he might be allowed to work for me. Upon my going out to speak with him, his countenance gladdened with joy, and looking animated and cheerful, he said he would “do ebery ting to ’blige Massa, wait upon Massa, clean Massa’s horse, and do all de work Massa tell him.”

Not immediately recollecting his features, I asked who he was, whence he came, and how it happened that he addressed himself to me? when he replied, “Ah Massa, if you no remember Prince, Prince no forget dat Massa tell ’em soldiers for break one great iron collar off Prince’s neck, and gave him for gnyaam when Massa at Mahaica!” This brought him to my recollection, and I recognised an unhappy slave, whom, in one of my walks at Mahaica, I had met wandering in a cotton-field, bearing a heavy iron collar upon his neck, with three long spikes projecting from it, terminating in sharp points, at the distance of nearly a foot and a half from his person; and with his body flogged into deep ulcers, from his loins to his hams. In this state, and almost starving with hunger, he appealed to my feelings. Humanity pleaded in his behalf, and without a very scrupulous inquiry into the whys and wherefores of the punishment, its dictates were obeyed. The poor man followed me to the fort: the soldiers grew indignant on seeing his naked sores; and the impulse of their feelings not being opposed, his neck was quickly freed from its load, and the massive yoke and its spikes were as speedily converted into pot-hooks for the benefit of the mess. Thus made happy, the thankful slave had now found his way to my home at La Bourgade, in order to make his further acknowledgments, and to tender me his services. Shall it be said that Africans know not the divine sentiment of gratitude?

I before mentioned the great difficulty we meet with in obtaining labouring mechanics, and you will be surprised to know the very high price at which they are paid in these colonies. Inconvenience sometimes arises from the scarcity of workmen, and those whom we have among us, being sensible that their number is small, and that others cannot be procured, demand most exorbitant wages, and commit their extortions without any sort of reserve. Only a few days ago the labouring carpenters threw down their tools, and refused to work, because a board, appointed to regulate the price of wages, refused to allow them four dollars per day, instead of three, at which extravagant rate they have been paid for some time past.

The weather, upon this coast, is now pleasant, and the roads are delightfully good. We are advancing gradually into the dry season. Occasional showers still refresh the fields, but our deep and muddy roads are become quite smooth and dry, and are at this time, perhaps, as fine for travelling as any that can be found upon the face of the globe. The kindly breeze is steady and powerful, and the thermometer, at noon, seldom exceeds 82; a temperature that we are able to support, without feeling those heavy sensations of languor and weariness, which are so extremely oppressive in the sultry days of an English summer.

Another very great comfort, not peculiar to this season, but which we commonly experience in this climate, is the total freedom from that lassitude and yawning, so common in England, at the hour of rising in the morning, and which is not only troublesome and unpleasant, but frequently causes us to steal another hour from the already too shortened day. Here, it is but one thing to awake, and to get up. The instant our eyes are open, the slumbers of the night are completely gone, and we have no feelings of heaviness or drowsy languor to oppose our rising; but in wakeful emotion we at once quit the pillow, and are ready to engage in the active pursuits of the day.

The decline of the wet season, although pregnant with manifold advantages, has brought us acquainted with a new trouble, in the scarcity of water. In consequence of the increased number of persons requiring to be supplied, the tanks, or cisterns built for preserving the offerings from the clouds, are found very inadequate to the consumption. These being emptied very soon after the heavy rains had ceased, we have now, for our supply, to depend upon the unwilling toil of a party of negroes, who are employed to go many leagues in boats, in order to fill the casks from the river at a distance beyond the influence of the tides. Owing to the several interruptions necessarily arising from this mode of procuring it, our supply of fresh water is not, at all times, so regular as might be wished, and there have been moments when we could have almost lamented the absence of heavy rains. Not only on account of sickness, but from the necessity we are under of using a considerable proportion of salted provisions, an ample supply of fluid is rendered indispensable at the hospital. Fresh animal food is again become a great dainty among us; the sick, therefore, and their attendants are often compelled to satisfy themselves with a diet of salt meat, and the vegetables of the country.

Letters have lately reached us from Barbadoes, in which is mentioned a striking example of the fatal influence of climate upon newly arrived Europeans. One of the regiments, which left that island upon the expedition to St. Lucie, in the month of April last, is already returned, a mere skeleton, consisting of only a small body of invalids; and the proportion which fell in battle is said to be very trifling, compared with the greater destruction caused by a foe, whose ravages are far more direful than those of the sword.