Perceiving that I was
weary and dejected, inquired into my situation, which I briefly explained
to her: whereupon, with looks of great compassion, she took up my saddle
and bridle, and told me to follow her. Having conducted me into her hut,
she lighted up a lamp, spread a mat on the floor, and told me I might
remain there for the night. Finding that I was very hungry, she said she
would procure me something to eat. She accordingly went out, and returned
in a short time with a very fine fish; which having caused to be half
broiled upon some embers, she gave me for supper. The rites of
hospitality being thus performed towards a stranger in distress, my
worthy benefactress (pointing to the mat, and telling me I might sleep
there without apprehension) called to the female part of her family, who
had stood gazing on me all the while in fixed astonishment, to resume
their task of spinning cotton; in which they continued to employ
themselves great part of the night. They lightened their labour by songs,
one of which was composed extempore; for I was myself the subject of it.
It was sung by one of the young women, the rest joined in a sort of
chorus. The air was sweet and plaintive, and the words, literally
translated were these:
"The winds roared, and the rains fell.
The poor white man, faint and weary,
Came and sat under our tree.
He has no mother to bring him milk;
No wife to grind his corn."
_Chorus_, "Let us pity the white man:
No mother has he," &c. &c.
Trifling as this recital may appear to the reader, to a person in my
situation, the circumstance was affecting in the highest degree.
I was oppressed by such unexpected kindness, and sleep fled from my eyes.
In the morning I presented my compassionate landlady with two of the four
brass buttons which remained on my waistcoat; the only recompence I could
make her.
July 21st. I continued in the village all this day in conversation with
the natives, who came in crowds to see me; but was rather uneasy towards
evening, to find that no message had arrived from the king; the more so,
as the people began to whisper, that Mansong had received some very
unfavourable accounts of me, from the Moors and Slatees residing at Sego;
who it seems were exceedingly suspicious concerning the motives of my
journey. I learned that many consultations had been held with the king
concerning my reception and disposal; and some of the villagers frankly
told me, that I had many enemies, and must expect no favour.
July 22d. About eleven o'clock, a messenger arrived from the king, but he
gave me very little satisfaction. He inquired particularly if I had
brought any present; and seemed much disappointed when he was told that I
had been robbed of every thing by the Moors. When I proposed to go along
with him, he told me to stop until the afternoon, when the king would
send for me.
[Illustration: NEGRO SONG from Mr. PARK'S TRAVELS.
_THE WORDS BY THE DUTCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE_.
_THE MUSIC BY G.G. FERRARI_.
I.
The loud wind roar'd, the rain fell fast;
The White Man yielded to the blast:
He sat him down, beneath our tree;
For weary, sad, and faint was he;
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._
II.
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._]
July 23d. In the afternoon another messenger arrived from Mansong, with a
bag in his hands. He told me it was the king's pleasure that I should
depart forthwith from the vicinage of Sego; but that Mansong, wishing to
relieve a white man in distress, had sent me five thousand Kowries,[12] to
enable me to purchase provisions in the course of my journey; the
messenger added, that if my intentions were really to proceed to Jenne,
he had orders to accompany me as a guide to Sansanding. I was, at first,
puzzled to account for this behaviour of the king; but from the
conversation I had with the guide, I had afterwards reason to believe
that Mansong would willingly have admitted me into his presence at Sego;
but was apprehensive he might not be able to protect me against the blind
and inveterate malice of the Moorish inhabitants. His conduct, therefore,
was at once prudent and liberal. The circumstances under which I made my
appearance at Sego were undoubtedly such as might create in the mind of
the king a well warranted suspicion that I wished to conceal the true
object of my journey. He argued, probably, as my guide argued, who, when
he was told that I had come from a great distance, and through many
dangers, to behold the Joliba river, naturally inquired, if there were no
rivers in my own country, and whether one river was not like another.
Notwithstanding this, and in spite of the jealous machinations of the
Moors, this benevolent prince thought it sufficient, that a white man was
found in his dominions, in a condition of extreme wretchedness; and that
no other plea was necessary to entitle the sufferer to his bounty.
[12] Mention has already been made of these little shells, (p. 23
[At the end of chapter II.
