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ROBERT THE HERMIT.
LIFE AND ADVENTURES
OF
ROBERT,
THE
HERMIT OF MASSACHUSETTS,
Who has lived 14 Years in a Cave, seclu-
ded from human society.
COMPRISING,
An account of his Birth, Parentage, Suffe^ing^ and
providential escape from unjust and cruel Bond-
age in early life—and his reasons for be-
coming a Recluse.
Taken from his own mouth, and published for his
benefit.
PROVIDENCE:
Printed for h. trumbull—1829.
Price 12 1-2 Cents.
DISTRICT op RHODE T^TAND, to wit;
BE ft remfmbm fd Th' 0*0*0 H^irfv.first day
©f Januarv, o e thousand eight hundred and twenty
nine, ad in the fifty third year of the Independence of the
United States of America, H K.N R Y n\- •* R { i,\ of said Dis-
trict, deposited in this office the title of a book, the ri^ht
whereof he claims-as author, in the following words, to
wit.—" Life and Adven-ures«>t Robert the Hermit • f Massa-
chusets, who has lived fo "tee vea'8 in a cave se« hdedl
from human society, coinpri .ng a ace -nt of h •• B rth, Pa-
rentage, Sufferings and nrov dentialeecape fr--m un'ust and
©rue! Bondage in early life and his,reaso s tor eroming a
Recluse. Taken from his own mouth and published for his
benefit
In conformity to an act of Congress of the United States,
entitled" an act for the encou agemenf of learning bv se-
curing the copies of maps, charts and books to the authors
and pioprietors of such copies during the time therein men-
tioned, and also to an act entitled " an act supplementary
to an act entitled an act for the encouragement of learning
by securing the copies of maps, charts and books to the
authors and proprietors of such copies during the time there«
in mentioned, and extend ng the benefits thereof to the arte
«f designing,engraving and etching historical and other prin^r
Witness, Benjamin Cowell,
Clerk of &e Rhode Island District
LIFE and ADVENTURES
OF
ROBERT the HERMIT.
@
IT is a fact well known to almost eveFf, in-
habitant of Rhode Island, that on the summit of a
hill, a few rods east of Seekonk river, (within the
State of Massachusetts) and about two miles from
Providence Bridge, has dwelt for many years, a
solitary Hermit, bearing the name of Robert—
and, although familiarly known to many of the in-
habitants of Providence, and its vicinity, for hh
peaceable and agreeable disposition, yet, his history,
as regards his birth, the cause of his seclusion, &a
has until very recently remained a profound se-
cret! having carefully avoided answering any ques-
tions relative thereto, of hundreds, who, prompted
by curiosity, have been from time to time induced to
visit his cave, or cell—and al hough very peaceable
and civil in his deportment, he has (with the excep-
tion of his occasional excursions to Providence, and
the adjacent villages, to obtain food and necessaries)
remained almost impervious in his retreat.
Many and various have been the conjectures *£
6 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF
the most curious and inquisitive of the Rhode Island-
ers, (in the neighborhood of whose State he lives,)
respecting this tfc strange and mysterious being,*' and
while some few have unjustly harboured an opinion
that he had perpetrated crimes of a h^nious nature,
far which he was doing penance—others, have a-
vowed in opposition to this, that his whole deporU
nient was so perfectly calm, and his countenance so
serene, that it was impossible that so fair a tenant,
could harbour a soul of darkness and criminality.
The first information which the writer ever re-
ceived of this extraordinary character, was through
the medium of one of the Providence prints, con-
taining some well written remarks relating to him,
and which we hare thought proper here to republish
in confirmation of the fact stated, that, until very
recently u Robert the Hermit" has uniformly refus-
ed to gratify the curiosity of any of his visitors, as
regarded his nativity, history, &c.
From the Literary Cadet of June 1826,
"Beneath a mountain's brow, the most remote
^.nd inaccessible by Shepherds trod,
In a deep cave, dug by no mortals hands
£n Hermit lived,—a melancholy man
Who was the wonder of our wand'ring swains,:
Austere and lonely—cruel tp himself
They did report him—'the cold earth his bed,
Water his drink, hjs food the Shepherd's alms.
I went to see him, and my hea^t was touched
With reverence ari4 with pity. Mild he spake,
And entering on discourse, such stories told,
As n\ade me oft revisit his sad cell." songs' dotjoias-
'.' On the declivity of a hill, which overlooks the
pellucid wafers of the Seekonk River, in a rude cell*
resides a Hermit, whose history is as inexplicable
as bis affected account of himself is mysterious. His
name is Robert, but to what country he belongs*
M what are the indqeementts which hav^e led him te
ROBERT THE HERMIT. 7
3ead the solitary life of a Hermit, no one knows, and
the fact puts conjecture at a hazard. Certain it is,
however, that he is not*a native of New-England-^
and that he is not by education or by principle at-
tached to our habits or our institutions the whole
course of his life, since he has been with us has
abundantly proven.
It is now about eighteen years, since he first visi-
ted us, and took up his abode in a thick pine grove,
which threw its luxurious foliage over the brow of
Arnolo's Hill, and from that day to this, he has care-
fully avoided answering any questions, which might
lead to a discovery of his history—or gratify the cu-
riosity of the inquirer.
Months, years and days paes by him unnoticed
and unregarded, and it is only on extraordinary oc-
casions, that he emerges from the confines of his so-
latary hermitage. In the ' pring he sometimes oc*
cupies himself in laborious employment—such as *
attending gardens for the neighborhood; but sore*,
gardless is he of the things of this world, that he
cares not whether his labors are rewaided or not,
by those who receive the benefits of them.
Unused to the luxuries or extravagancies of life,
he contents himself with the s<mplesi food and such
as the bountiful hand of nature supplies. The meats
and intemperate liquids of social 1 fe, are unknown
to him
«* But from the mountain's grassy side
A guiltless feaM he brings;
A scrip with herbs and fruits supplied,
And water from the springs."
In summer, he cultivates a small lot of land, which
lie i« kindly allowed to possess, b> the Hon. Mr.
Buboes, the owner of tie estate on which the hef-
mita^e is located ; but he rarel\ allows the plants t6
arrive at maturity, before he placka them from tti$
$ LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF
earth, and throws them to the cattle that feed arouni
his lonely mansion. What should induce him to thus
destroy what he has often been at great labor to
cultivate, he assigns no reason, nor can any one
form a reasonable conjecture. His cell is decorated
with van us shells and bones* and is scarcely ca-
pable of accommodating himself alone; and the tur-
Biture with which it is supplied, consists of a stool,
an oaken bench, on which he "repos.es, and two or
three pieces of broken delf ware. It is as gloomy, as
darkness and solitude can make if, and appear* to
be admirably fitted for a misanthrope and a re< luse.
In winter he seldom emerges from his solitary
mansion, but silently and patiently waits for iimeto
introduce the vernal Spting, and to bring about that
joyful season, when once more he can rove around
the adj icent woodlands and meads. The rays of the
sun never enter the portals of his domicil, and at
midday it assumes all the darkness of midnight.
Content with his situation, and at peace with all,
he quietly looks forward for the arrival of that day,
when he shall "bid the waking world good night,"
and find in countries unexplored, that happiness
which life has denied him
His cell is surrounded by a thick set hedge,
wrought of wild briars and hemlock, and displays
much ingenuity and taste It is in a most romantic
situation, some distance from any human habitation,
and not often annoyed by the gaze of the curious,
or the mischievous visits of the boys, for they all
love poor Robert. It is well worth the trouble of
those who are fond of the curious, and are pleased
with noticing the excentricities of frail mortality to
visit the abode of 'Robert thf Hermit." [O^r* * he
preceding are the remarks alluded to, contain*d in
the Cadet of 1826, and which we doubt not were
from the able pen of the Editor of that paper, at the
4ate mentioned. |
ROBERT THE HERMIT. 9
It was not until within a few weeks that the writer
was induced to visit the lonely and solitary retreat
of '• poor Robert,"—by the urgent solicitations of
a few who had long known him, and not without
hopes that he might possibly be prevailed upon to
disclose some of the most extraordinary incidents
of his life, for publication, if assured that he was to
reap a benefit thereby (for great indeed are his pre-
sent wants,) the writer was induced to visit him for
this purpose. It was about 11 o'clock in the fore-
noon when I reached his habitation, and on remov-
ing a small rough board supported by a leathern
hinge, and which closed the only passage to his dark
and gloomy cell, I discovered him in about the cen-
tre, seated on a wooden block, in an apparent rev-
erie.
I accosted him in a friendly manner, and he with
much civility, bid me welcome; and as if willing to
permit me to satisfy that curiosity which he no doubt
supposed had alone prompted me (as it "had hundreds
of others) to visit him, he with much apparent good
humour invited me to enter, and accept of his seat,
when, as he observed, I would have a better oppor-
tunity to inspect the internal part of his lonely hab-
itation—an invitation of which I accepted—and, af-
ter making known to him the true object of my vis-
it, and with assurances that it was produced by the
most urgent solicitations of one or more of his friends,
who had expressed, and I believed sincerely felt an
interest in his welfare, so far at least as to render
his situation more comfortable—I begged that he
would gratify me with a brief narration of his life, and
inform me what powerful cause had arose to induce
him to quit the pleasures of society, and consign his
days to voluntary seclusions ?—4o which, after a
considerable pause, and with his eyes fixed steadfast
upon me, as if to satisfy himself that what I had stated
B
10 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF
was spoken in sincerity, he made the following re*
ply—u that is a relation with which 1 have declined
indulging any one, as the enquiry seemed merely
made to gratify idle curiosity; but, as you speak as
if you could feel sympathy for distress, I will briefly
gratify your requesi:—
•' 1 was born in Princeton (New Jersey) in the
year 1769 or '70, and was born, as was my mother
(who was of African descent,) in bondage ; although
my father, as has been represented to me, was not
•nly a pure white blooded Englishman, but a gentle-
man of considerable eminence—I had no brothers
and but one sister, who was three years older than
myself; but of her, as of my mother, I have but a
faint recollection, as I in my infancy was included in
the patrimonial portion of my master's oldest daugh-
ter, on her marriage to a Mr. John Voorhis, by
birth a German. When but four years of age I was
conveyed by my master to Georgetown (District of
Columbia,) to which place he removed with his fam-
ily, atfd never have 1 since been enabled to learn
the fate of my poor mother or sister, whom, it is
not very improbable, death has long since removed
from their unjust servitude.
At the age of 14 or 15, my master apprenticed
me to a Shoemaker, to obtain if possible a knowl-
edge of the art; but making but little proficiency,
he again took* me upon his plantation, where my
time was mostly employed in gardening until about
the age of nineteen. It was at that age, that I be-
came first acquainted with an agreeable young fe-
male (an orphan) by the name of Alley Penning-
ton, a native of Cecil county, (Maryland)—she
first expressed her attachment for me, and a wil-
lingness to become my partner for life, provided I
could obtain my freedom, nor can I say that I felt
lesa attachment fay one with whom 1 was confident
ROBERT THE HERMIT. M
I could spend my life agreeably—she was indeed
the object of my first love, a love which can only
be extinguished with my existence; and never at any
period previous was the yoke of bondage more goard-
ing, or did I feel so sensibly the want of that free-
dom, the deprivation of which, was now the only
barrier to my much wished for union with one I so
sincerely and tenderly loved.
As my master had uniformly expressed an uawil-
lingness to grant me my freedom, on any other terms
than receiving a suitable compensation therefor, my
only alternative now to obtain it, was to apply to
one with whom I was most intimately acquainted,
and to whom I thought I could safely communicate
my desires, as he had in more than one instance,
expressed much regard for me, and a willingness to
serve me—to him I proposed that he should pay
to my master the stipulated sum (Fifty Pounds,) de-
manded for my freedom? and thai the bill of sale
should remain in his hands, until such time as I
should be enabled by the fruits of my industry to
repay him, principal and interest, and allow him a
suitable compensation therefor for his trouble—to
this proposal he very readily assented, and not onry
expressed his willingness but his approbation of my
much desired union with my beloved Alley. My
request was immediately complied with, the. Fifty
Pounds were paid by my good friend (as 1 then sup-
posed him,) to whom L was by bond transfered as
his lawful property, and by whom I was given to
understand that 1 might then seek business for my~
self, and turn my attention to any that 1 should con-
ceive the most profitable, and consider myself under
no other bondage than as a debtor,, to the amount
paid for my freedom. The name of one who had
manifes ed so much what 1 supposed real and disin-
terested friendship for me> but who finally proved*
jg LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF
the author of almost all the wretchedness, which I
have since endured, ought not to be concealed—it
was James Bevens.
Feeling myself now almost a free man, I did not,
as may be supposed, suffer many hours to elapse
before I hastened to bear the joyful tidings of my
good fortune, to one, who, as I had anticipated, re-
ceived it with unfeigned demonstrations of joy ; and
who, so far from exhibiting an unwillingness to full-
ifill her promise, yielded her hand without reluctance
or distrust—we were married, lawfully married, and
more than three years of domestic felicity passed a-
way, without a misfortune to ruffle our repose—in
the course of which the Almighty had not only been
pleased to bless us with two children, but my-
self with so great a share of good health, as to
have enabled me by my industry, to earn and re-
fund a very considerable portion of the fift} pounds
paid by Bevins for my freedom—of these sums I had
neither made any charge, or took anj receipts—in
this I was brought to see my error, but, alas I too
late.
Bevins, as I have stated, was a man in whom I
had placed implicit confidence, and indeed until the
period mentioned, supposed him, as regarded my-
self, incapable of any thing dishonorable, much less
of being the author of as great an act of cruelty and
injustice, as ever was recorded in the catalogue of
human depravity!
It was late one evening, an evening never to be
forgotten by me, while sitting in the midst of my
innocent and beloved family, amused with- the prat-
tle of my eldest child, and enjoying all the felicity
which conjugal love and parental affection are pro-
ductive of, that this monster in human shape (Bevins)
accompanied by another, entered, seized and pinion-
ed me 1 and gave me to understand that 1 was intend*
ROBERT THE HERMIT. 13
ed for a Southern market!! ft is impossible for me
to describe my feelings or those of mjr poor distract-
ed wife, at that moment! it was in vain that I in-
treated, in vain that I represented to Bevins that he
had already received a very greaf proportion of the
sum paid for my freedom—to which the ruffian made
no other reply, than pronouncing me a liar, dragged
me like a felon from my peaceable domtcil—from
my beloved family—whose shrieks would have pier-
ced the he$u*t of any one bur a wretch like himself!
In the most secret manner, at eleven at night, I
was huiried on board o£ a Schooner, where addition-
al miseries awaited me!—for fear of an escape, I
found that irons were to be substituted for the ropes
with which they had bound me! and while a person
was employed in riveting them, I improved the op-
portunity, which I thought probably would be the
last, to address the author of my miseries, in words
nearly as follows ;-—" are these the proofs, master
Bevins, of the friendship which you have professed
forme! tell me I pray you, what have 1 done to
merit such barbarous treatment from your hands t
nothing, no nothing! I have nothing wherewith to re-*
proach myself but my own credulity !'*—4o this he
made no reply ; shackled and handcuffed, I was pre-
cipitated into the hold of the schooner, by the mo-
tion of which I perceived was soon under way, and
bearing me 1 knew not whither! So far from feel-
ing an inclination to sleep, it was to me a njgh£_o£
inconceivable wretchedness I could hef? nothing
but the shrieks of my poor disconsolate wife, and
the moans of her helpless children! indeed such
was my imagination—alas! he alone can have a just
conception of my feelings who may have been pla-
ted in a similar situation, if such a person can be
found on earth
In three days (during which no other tood nm
;H LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF
allowed me but a few pounds of mouldy bread) th*
Schooner reached the port of her destination—
Charleston, S. C.—and from which, without being
relieved of my irons, I was conveyed to and lodged
in prison, where I was suffered to remain in soli-
tude five days—from thence I was conducted to a
place expressly appropriated to the sale of human
beings 1 where, like the meanest animal of the brute
creation, I was disposed of at public auction to the
highest bidder!
Resolved on my liberty, and that I would not let
pass unimproved the first opportunity that should
present, to regain it, I did not remain with my pur-
chaser long enough to learn his name or the price
paid for me; who, to win my affections, and the
better to reconcile me to my situation, professed
much regard for me and made many fair promises,
(not one of which it is probable he ever intended to
perform,) and the better to deceive me, voluntarily
granted me the irdulgence to walk a few hours un-
guarded and unattended about the city; supposing,
no doubt, that it would be impossible for me to re-
gain my liberty, as no coloured person was allowed
to proceed beyond the limits of the city, without
a well authenticated pass—of this I was not ignor-
ant, and therefore sought other and less dangerous
means to escape, for I felt that death in its worst
forms would be far preferable to slavery.
I carlessly strolled about the wharves among the
shipping, where I at length was so fortunate as to
find a Sloop bound direct to Philadelphia—she had
completed her lading, her sails were oosed and ev-
ery preparation made to haul immediately into the
Stream —watching a favourable opportunity, while
the hands were employed forward I unperceived
ascended and secreted myself between two casks in
the hold—all beneath was soon well secured by the
ROBERT THE HERMIT. 1&
hatches, and I had the satisfaction to find myself ia
less than three hours, from the time that I was pur-
chased like a bale of goods at auction, stowed snug-
ly away, and with fair prospects of regaining my
liberty! it was at that moment that a secret joy
diffused itself through my soul—1 found unexpected
consolation and fortitude, produced by a firm per-
suasion that by the assistance of a divine provi-
dences I should accomplish my deliverance.
Early in the morning of the fourth day from that
of our departure, we were safely moored along side
of one of the Philadelphia wharves. During the
passage of three days and one night, my only nour-
ishment had been about one gill of spirits, contain-
ed in a small viol, with which I occasionally moist-
ened my lips, for en the third day my thirst had
become intolerable.
I was as fortunate in leaving the sloop unsuspect-
ed or undiscovered, as I had been in secreting my-
self on board of her, and as soon as safely on shore,
my first object was to procure lodgings and some-
thing to satisfy the cravings of nature, at a boarding
feouee for seamen. . Representing myself as belong-
ing to a coaster, I was not suspected as any other,
than a free man. As I had beard much of the hos-
pitality of the Quakers (or Friends,) and as a class
who were the zealous advocates for the emancipa-
tion of their fellow beings in bondage, to one of
them, on the very day of my arrival, I made my
situation known, concealing nothing ; and begged that
he would interest himself so far in my behalf as to
advise me what I had best do, to secure my per*
son from further arrest by unjust claimants, and t$
restore to me my bereaved and afflicted family.
The good man listened with much apparent aU
tention to my story, and seemed somewhat affected
t&ereby, and so far from exhibiting any disposition
J6 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF
to discredit any p<trt of it, presented me with half
a crown, and requested me to call on hsin in the
forenoon of the next day, by which time (as he said)
he would have an opportunity to consult some of his
brethren, by whom he thought steps would be taken
to redress my wrongs—nor have I any reason to be
lieve that he promised more than he intended to
perform, ,and I believe that by these good people I
should have been effectuallj freed from the shackles
of slavery, had not another melancholly instance of
adverse fortune, placed me in a situation not to com-
ply with his request. Returning to my lodgings in
the evening, I was accused (jocosly, as I at first sup-
posed) by the inmates of the house, of being a run-
away slave! still however persisting in my former
story, that I was free and belonged to a coaster, but
being unable to reply satisfactorily to their enquiries,
as to the name and place of destination of the vessel,
I was committed to prison and advertized as a sus-,
pected runaway.
By what means my pretended master obtained in-
formation of my situation, I could never learn, for
after nine dav« "'««* ";nn,:«»iPo"f «i nr?«nn f.iii^z
TJaich T was not permitted to communicate with any
one but the goaler) I was once more strongly ironed
and delivered over to the charge of the captain of a
Charleston packet—to which port as it proved she
was bound direct. It will not be necessary to in-
form you that my treatment was no better than what
I had received on my late passage from Maryland
—cor do I know that I could have reasonably expect-
ed any better, from those who probably considered
coloured people as free from feelings as understand-
ings. As soon as we reached Charleston, I was
«oncJucted to and delivered over to my reputed mas-
ter, who bad however in my absence, as it appear-
ed, become somewhat sick of his purchase, for the
EGBERT THE HERMIT. If
next day I was with two or three othe -.** similarly sit-
uated, exposed to sale at public auction.
The person by whom I was next purchased, was
a Dr. Peter Fbrsue, a man of considerable wealth,
and who, had it not been obtained bv the toils of his
fellow creatures in bondage, might have passed for
one not entirely devoid of humanity ; for * mu«?t say,
injustice to him, that it was remarked that those
who were held in bond^e by him, were treated
with less severity than those possessed by some of
his neighbors. Perceiving that I was not a little
dissatisfied with my situation, and that I possessed
a partial knowledge of letters (which 1 had acquir-
ed previous to my marriagp) through fear probably
that I might instill into the minds of some of my
fellow slaves, principles, which might ultimately
prove to his disadvantage, 1 w;>s selected as a house
servant, and consequently exempted from many of
the privations to which the other slaves were ex-
posed—yet, I became no more reconciled to my
situation, nor felt any degree of attachment for him,
as I could never harbour a belief but that humtn be-
ings, whatever might be thert CGSipisxion, were nil
treated equally free; and that it was in direct con-
tradiction to the will of the Supreme Being, that
one portion of his creatures should be held in bond-
age by another, fir no other fault than a difference
of complexion!-—and, I must confess, that my bo-
som could not but swell with indignation, when pla-
ced in a situation to witness the severity with which
many of my fellow companions in bondage, at the
South, were treated—worn out by constant fatigue,
clad in rags, branded with lashes, and otherways
treated more like brutes than human beings!
Freedom, the gift of Heaven, was too highly
prized by me, to permit any thing of less import'
tapce to occupy my mind—but, great as were m$
18 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF
desires to enjoy it, with him by whom I was wrong-
fully claimed, I spent eighteen months in servitude,
before an opportunity presented to obtain it. The
means by which I was finally enabled to effect my
escape, were very similar to those which I had
practiced in my last attempt—I succeeded in secret-
ing myself in the hold of a brig ready laden, and
bound direct to Boston (Massachusetts,) and without
an opportunity to provide myself with a drop of
water, or a morsel of food of any kind, on which
to subsist during the passage.
Although the place of my concealment afforded
nothing better on which to repose than a water cask,
yet I found my birth not so uncomfortable as one
would naturally imagine, and I was enabled to en-
dure the calls of hunger and thirst, until the close
of the fifth day from that of our departure, when
the latter became too oppressive to be longer en-
dured—had I then possessed the wealth of the In-
dias, it appeared to me, that I should have made, a
willing exchange for a draught of sweet water!
not however until nearly deprived of my senses, did
1 feel willing to make my situation known to those
on board—on the reflection, that should it even cost
me my life that an instantanious death would be pre*
ferable to a lingering one, I seized a fragment of
a hoop, with which I crawled to and commenced
thumping upon a beam near the hatchway, at the
game time hallooing as loud as the strength of my
lungs would admit of—soon I was heard by the hands
on deck, and while some broke out in exclamations
of wonder and surprize, others ran affrighted to the
cabin, to proclain* to the captain the fact that <4 the
brig was most certainly haunted, and had become the
habitation of bodiless spirits, as one or more were
at that moment crying out lamentably in the hold \u\
*-}?0iJileg}9 spirits they no doubt concluded they must
ROBERT THE HERMIT. 19
for the hatches being so well secured with a tar-
polin, none other, as they supposed, could have ob-
tained access.
The captain less superstitiously inclined, order-
ed the hatches to be immediately raised, but so great
was the terrour of the sailors, that it was sometime
before any could be found of sufficient courage to ©-
bey.
* The hatches were no sooner removed than I pre-
sented myself to their view, trembling through fear,
pale as death, and with hardly stiength sufficient to
support myself!—my appearance was indeed such as
almost to confirm the superstitious opinion of the
sailors, that the brig must certainly be haunted,
for in me they beheld, as they supposed,, nought
but an apparition ! the ghost, probably, of some unfor-
tunate shipmate, who on a former voyage for some
trifling offence, had been privately and wickedly pre-
cipitated from (he brig's deck into the ocean !—such
indeed is the weakness and superstition peculiar to
many of that class of people, who follow the seas
for a livelihood.
Those on board became however a little less in-
timidated, when I assured them that I intended them
no harm, and was f.o other than one of the most un-
fortuaate and miserable of human beings, who had
sought that means to escape from unjust and cruel
bondage! and then briefly related to them, at what
time and in what manner 1 succeeded in secreting
myself unnoticed in the brig's hold; where it was
my intention to have remained, if possible, until her
arrival at the port of her destination—and concluded
with begging them for mercy's sake, to grant me a
bucket of fresh water! for, indeed, such was my
thirst, that a le*s quantity it appeared to me would
have proved insufficient to have allayed it.
The captain (who very fortunately for me, prov
.20 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF
ed to be a Quaker, and with all the tender feeling pe-
culiar to that excellent class of people) gave orders
to his men to treat me with kindness, and to assist
me on deck, for i had new become so weak and* e-
maciated by lon£ fasting, that 1 was scarcely able
to help mynelf. ** Thy wants shall be supplied (said
the good captain, addressing himself to me) but such
is thy present weakness, that thee must eat and drink
sparingly, or it ma} be worse for thee !"—this man
was truly in practice, as well as by profession, a
Christian—for had he been my father he could not
have treated me with more tenderness and compas-
sion-*-he would allow me but a single gill of water
at a draugh, aod that quantity but twice in an hour*
although five times that quantity would not have sat-
isfied me—and the food allowed me was apportioned
accordingly.
In two days after we reached Boston, where f was
landed, with permission of the captam to proceed
whither 1 pleased; not however until he had impart-
ed to me some friendly advice, to be cautious with
whom I associated on shore, and as I valued my lib-
erty, not to frequent such parts of the town as was
inhabited by the most vicious and abandoned of the
human race—with which he presented me with some
change, and bid me farewell, and never to my knowl-
edge have I since had the happiness to meet with
this good man; who, long 'ere this has probably
been numbered with the just, and if so. is now 1 trust
reaping the reward of his good deeds in another an<J
beUer world.
Unacquainted then with the laws of Vew-England,
and fearful that it might not be safe to tarry a long
while in a place so populous as Boston -befor*3 sun-
set of the same day 1 crossed the. bridge leading to
Charlestown, with an intention of proceeding as far
east as Portland—I tarried that night at Lynn, and
ROBERT THE HERMIT. 21
mX about 10 o'clock the next morning reached Salem,
where 1 concluded to remain until the morning en-
suing. I applied to a boarding hou§e for seamen for
some refreshment, and bespoke lodgings for the night,
and in the course of the day met with a gentleman
who was in quest of hands for a voyage to India. As
mj small funds were now nearly exhausted, I thought
this not only a favourable opportunity to replenish
them,* but to place myself beyond the reach of my
pretended masters of the south, should they extend
their pursuit of me as far east as Massachusetts—
to him I therefore^ offered myself for the voyage, and
was accepted.
It cannot be expected that I can .recollect, oris
it necessary for me to state every minute circum-
stance, that attended me on this voyage, and I will
only remark, that although a fresh hand, and totally
unacquainted with seamanship, I succeeded in the
performance of my duty beyond my expectations,
and I believe not only to the satisfaction of my offi-
cers, but gained the esteem and good will of my
shipmates on board—in proof of this, there is one
circumstance that I ought not fail to mention—when
about to cross the line where sailors generally cal-
culate to receive a formal visit from Neptune, the
aged Monarch of the deep made his appearance as
usual, and with little ceremony introduced himself
on board, and while others (who had never before
been honored with an interview with his majesty)
were compelled to yield to the unpleasant severities
of a custom prescribed by him, I was, by the in-
tercession of my shipmates, so fortunate as to es-
cape.
After an absence of about fourteen months, the
ship returned in safety to Salem, and with the loss
I believe of but one man*—.when discharged, my wa-
ges were punctually paid me, which amounted to a
D
%% LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF
sum not only much greater than what I had ever be-
fore been in possession of, but a sum much more
considerable than what i once ever expected to pos-
sess !—there was indeed as I then thought, but one
thing wanting to complete my happiness (to wit.) the
presence of my poor unfortunate family I—with this
money, thought I, how comfortable could I render
the situation of my beloved Alley, and my not less
beloved children \ who, while I at this moment have
enough and to spare, it is not improbable, if living,
are enduring all th« miseries that poverty and oppres-
sion are productive of!—reflections like these were
sufficient to depress my spirits, and to deprive me of
that enjoyment, which sailors so abundantly partici-
pate in on their return from a long voyage to their
favorite port.
I remained on shore but a short time when I ship-
ped for a second voyage to India—and, would here
briefly state, without entering into particulars, that
from this period for nine years, I continued to sail
as a common hand from the ports of Boston and Sa-
lem, to different ports in Europe and India—in which
time I never once suffered shipwreck, or met with
any very serious disaster I—it is not improbable that
there are at the present day, some of my old Com-
manders and Shipmates still living in or about Boston
and Salem, who may have some recollection of
« Robert."
After my return from my first voyage, I became
acquainted with and commenced board in the family
of a respectable elderly widow woman, who afford-
ed decent fare, although in very moderate circum-
stances—the family was composed of the old lady
and three daughters, of the ages of eighteen, twen-
ty-one and twenty-five—it was their ho^se that I
continued to " hail" as my home, whenever I re-
turned to port, mi so long as I remained onshore?
ROBERT THE HERMIT. 23
and, almost destitute as I was at this time of other
friends, it is not, as I deem it, very extraordinary
that I should feel more than a common degree of
regard and attachment for the family, and that that
attachment should finally lead to a greater intimacy
—this was indeed the case, and on my return from
my second voyage, I entered into the bands of matri-
mony with one of the daughters—the marriage cere-
monies were performed by a Justice Putnam, of
Danvers. Here, in justification of myself, for having
consented to become the husband of another, when
there was a possibility of my first wife being alive,
I must state that there were two great inducements—
one, that I was strongly urged so to do by those who
undoubtedly had authority to use compulsory means
had I declined—and the other, that I had now given
up all hopes and expectations of ever meeting a-
gain in this world, her, who was the first object of
my pledged love.
The day after my marriage t rented a small ten-
ament, which I gave my mother and her daughters
liberty to occupy with my wife in my absence, for
in three days after I was once more on my favor-
ite element, bound to India—previous to my depar-
ture however I made ample provision for the sup-
port of my family* ami left a request with the gen-
tleman in whose employ I sailed, to allow the«i a
portion of my wages, in my absence, which was
strictly complied with. The voyage proved as usu-
al, prosperous, and on my return was received by
my friends, not only with the most lively demon-
strations of joy, but with the tidings that I had in
my absence, for the third time, become a father.
. I remained on shore about three months, and
such was the harmony that prevailed between us,
and such tne kind treatment that I received from
my companion, that it would have been cruel to
§4 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF
have doubted her love and affection for me. At
the expiration of the three months, I once more with
considerable reluctance bid her adieu, and shipped
on board the Herald, capt. Derby, bound from Bos-
ton to Canton ;—on this voyage I was absent but a-
bout eighteen months, from the time that we left
Boston, which was our port of entry on our return.
As soon as discharged I hastened to Salem with
the fruits of my toil, and with fond expectations of
being welcomed once more to my peaceful hom£,
by one who had so repeatedly expressed her love
and regard for me—but, alas, sadly was I disappoint-
ed J—for true it is, that she who I had supposed al-
most an angel.in disposition, had in my absence been
transformed to a demon! Cold indeed was the re-
ception that 1 met with—so far from expressing
or manifesting the least degree of joy or satisfaction
on the occasion (although I had been between one
and two years absent) 1 was insultingly told b}r her
that " if I had never returned she would have been
the last to lament it J"
The cause of this surprizing and unexpected al-
teration in one, whom, from the moment she became
my wife, I had treated with so much regard and af-
fection, I was never able to learn—although fl did
not aud could not feel that ardent affection for her, as
for one who was the object of my first love, ye*
my affection for my child was as great as that for
iny first born—for this I felt willing to make almost
any sacrifice, could a reconciliation have been there-
by effected; but it could not, and a final seperation
was the consequence. 1 continued in Salem eight
or ten months longer, supporting myself with the
fruits of what 1 obtained by labour on board vessels,
on the wharves, &c. and then, with light feet but
with a heavy heart, started in quest of new friends
and a new home, bending my course southerly.
ROBERT THE HERMIT. 2§
♦ made no longer tarry on the road than to obtain
refreshments, until I reached Providence (Rhode
Island) where I made application for, and obtained
employment for a few days; at the conclusion of
which, I obtained a birth on board of one of the
Packets plying between Providence and New York,
in which business 1 continued (with the exception of a
|>art of the time that I was occasionally employed on
shore,) eight or nine years—some few of the packet
masters with whom I have sailed, and some for
Ivhom 1 occasionally wrought on shore, ate still liv-
ing.
Feeling a strong inclination once more to visit the
shores of the south, where 1 had not only been un-
justly deprived of my liberty, but where I was in-
hum inly forced from a beloved wife and two darling
children, 1 took passage (about fifteen years since)
On board a sloop for Baltimore, and from thence pro-
ceeded direct to Georgetown. As twenty years had
elapsed since 1 there left all that I held most dear in life
—and so great a change had time effected in my per*
sonal appearance, 1 felt httleor no apprehension that
I should be recognised or molested by any, if livings
who once professed a claim to me. fn this I was
not mistaken, for indeed as regarded the town, in-
habitants, &e. so great a change bad the twenty years
produced, that 1 walked the streets at mid-day un-
noti ed and unknown. My old master (Voorhis) and
his wifp had been some year* dead, and the survi-
vors of ?the family had femoved to parts unknown-*
Bevins. the wretch by whom 1 was unj-mly depriv-
ed of my liberty, and thereby forever seperated from
my unfortunate family, had a few years previous
emigrated to the west—but, the principle object of
my visit was not answered—of my wife and children
I could obtain no satisfactory information—all ihat f
could learn, was, that soon after my disappearance*
£
26 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF
their Sufferings and deprivations became so great, tha^
my poor wife in a fit of desparation,as was supposed?
put an end to her existence, and that her helpless
children did not long survive her!—this was enough!
yea more than enough, to fill to the brim the bitter
cup of my afflictions i—afflictions which had more or
less attended me through life !—I then ft It but little
desire to live, as there was nothing then remaining
to attach me to this world—and it was at that moment
that I formed the determination to retire from it—
to become a recluse, and mingle thereafter as little
as possible with human society.
With this determination I returned direct to Rhode
Island, and soon after selected a retired spot well
suited to my purpose, being an extreme point of
uninhabited land (Pox Point) situated a out one mile
south of Providence bridge—there I built me a hut
and dwelt peaceably therein for several years, and
until annoyed and discommoded by the youth of the
town, and by labourers employed in levelling the
hill in the neighborhood of my dwelling—1 then ap-
plied to and obtained the COnseht of the gentleman
(Hon. Tristan Burgiss) to whom the land belongs,
to build this hut, and permission to improve the spot
of ground enclosed during my life—here in solitude I
have dwelt more than six years — once or twice a week
(and sometimes ofteher I leave my recess, cross o-
ver the bridge into Providence, converse a little
with those with whom I have become acquainted,
obtain a few necessaries, and return again well sat-
isfied to my peaceable dwelling."
Here Robert concluded his narrative, and which
the writer, with very little variation, recorded as he
received it from his own lips—in dates, Robert may
not have been perfectly correct, as he does not pro-
fess to be very positive as to his exact age—but, m
ROBERT THE HERMIT. gf
every other particular, not a doubt remains on the
mind of the writer but thar Robert (according to
his best recollection) undeviatingly related facts as
they occurred—the writer thinks that he may safely
draw this conclusion, from the circumstance of hav-
ing visited him three days successively, and that his
replies to the most strict enquiries on the third day,
agreed perfectly with the particulars of his narration
on the first and second—and as he has heretofore
manifested an unwillingness to disclose to any one
the secret of his adventures, it is not probable that
he formed and committed to memory a story with
which to deceive the public, and in which there is
not a word of truth—no, those who are best ac-
quainted with " poor artless Robert" know him in-
capable of such a piece of deception.
Robert, is apparently about 60 years of age, a
little short of six feet in height, inclined to corpu-
lency, his features perfectly regular, and of a com-
plexion but a shade or two darker than that of many
who profess to be and pass for whites—in his early
years he states that it was much more fair, but of
late years having been so much exposed to the smoke
of his cell, has become mnch changed—the lower
part of his face is covered with a thick and curly
beard, of a jet black, and of uncommon length—his
garments (or many of them) are of his own manu-
facture, and whenever a breach appears in any one
article, it is either closed by him in a bungling
manner, with needle and iwine, or a patch is appli-
ed without regard to the quality or colour of the
cloth. The tattered surtout coat commonly worn by
him, in his excursions abroad in winter, in imitation
of the military, he has fancifully faced with red,
in which (with a cap of the same cloth and with his
long beard) it would not be very surprizing if he
shoald sometimes be viewed by strangers, as some
SB LIFE ANB ADVENTURES OF
distinguished embassador from the court of Tom-
buctoo, or one of the loyal subjects of the Grand
Seniour, c\.\d in the military costume of his coun-
try.—[{£7- See Frontispiece.]
Robert is remarkab y abstemious and otherwise
correct in his habits—n^ver known to he guilty of
profanity—is civsi and agreeable in his manners, po-
lite and condescending to a 1 who visit him, and al-
way willing to gratify the curiosity of such as feel
disposed to inspect the internal part of his cell- and
ever grateful for presents made him. Reappears
perfectly reconciled to and satisfied with his retired
situation, and on the writer's expressing some sur-
prize that he should prefer a secluded life, to that
of the enjoyment of society, he observed that he
kad been too long the subject of the frowns and per-
secutions of a portion of his fellow beings, to derive
that pleasure and satisfaction frorn their society which,
the less unfortunate might naturally enjoy.
The walls of his cave or cell, are constructed
principally of round stones, of inconsiderable size
rudely thrown together, and externally have as much
the appearance of being the produce of na ure as of
art; and although they form- a square of thirty or
forty feet in circumference, yet are so thick and
mas?)', as to enclose onlv a single apartment of not
sufficient size to contain more than two or three
persons at a time, and so low as not to admit of their
standing erect, and indeed is in every respect of
much less comfortable construction than many of our
pig pens !—about the centre there is a fire place
rudely formed, from which proceeds a flue in form
of a chimney —and at the extreme end of his cell
Robert has constructed a birth or bunk, in which*
filled with rags and straw, he reposes at night—
beside the fire-place stands a block, detached from
the butt of an oak, which not on4y serves him for
ROBERT THF HERMIT. 2$
a seat and table, but bring paiily hollow, inverted,
for a mo tier, in which ha occns^oindiy pounds hi&
corn, and o! which when sufficiently refined, he man-
ufactures his bread—-in cooking utensils Robert is
quite deficient—the c-ne half of an iron pot \a tlm
only ai tide made use of by him, in which he pre-
pares hi* food - a small piece of iron hoop serves
him for a knife, and a few articles of damaged dr-lf
ware, and an old sea bucket, for the conveyance of
water from a neighboring spring, are nearly the
whole contents of his wretched hovel!—the materi-
als of which the roof is constructed, are similar to
those which compose the walls of his cell; and al-
though of many tons in weight, is altogether sup-
ported by a few slender half decaved props, on the
strength of which depends the life of poor Robert,
should the* fail, without the possibility of an escape,
his hut would instantaniously become his grave !—
It is to obtain for him a more safe and convenient:
habitation, that has induced the author to issue this
work, a great proportion of the profits of which
will be devoted to that purpose.
To his gloomy cell there are but one or two a per*,
tures or loopholes, for the admission of light which
in winter are completely closed (as is every crack
and crevice) with seaweed—this renders the apart-
ment still more dark and gloomy than it otherwise
would be, as when the door is closed to expel the
cold, Robert remains within, day and night, in almost
total darkness. In summer Robert employs a con-
siderable portion of his time in the cultivation of a
small spot of ground, contiguous to his hut, of 7 or
8 rods square, which he has inclosed in an ingenious
manner with small twigs and interwoven branches of
hemlock and juniper—the soil is so extremely bar-
ren and unproductive, that it seldom produces an-
nually more than three or four bushels of potatoes)
30 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF
a peck or two of corn, and a few quarts of beans !—
yet with this small crop, Robert is apparently bet-
ter satisfied and more thankful than many, whose in-
satiable thirst for worldly gain, leads them, not to an
acknowledgment of gratitude due the Supreme Au-
thor of all good gifts, but rather (in imitation of the
one of whom we read) to most bitter complaints, that
their barns are not of sufficient size to contain their
abundant crops!
Having been told that Robert devoted a portion cf
his time to reading, I offered to present him with
a Bible, and some religious Tracts, for which he ap-
peared grateful, but informed me that he was already
in possession of both—the gift of a pious lady of
Providence—which led me to make some enquiries as
regarded his religious sentiments—his opinion of the
existence of a Supreme Being—of the immortality
of the soul—of future rewards and punishments, &c.
—to which he unhesitatingly replied, that he never
doubted the existence of a Supreme Being, from
whom- although invisihle to us, nothing could be
concealed and to whom he believed we were all ac-
countable beings, and would hereafter receive re-
wards or punishments according to the deeds of the
body—from this belief he said he derived great con-
solation—for, although great had been his trials and
troubles in this world, he was not without a hope,
that by complying with the terms of the gospel of a
blessed Redeemer, he might be permitted in another
to participate in those eternal enjoyments which
were the promised rewards of the faithful.
Humble a >d retired as may be the situation of
Robert, if such truly are his sentiments, and such his
well grounded hopes, altho' his bed may be straw, and
his table a block—he must be acknowledged a hap-
py man—and, indeed, infinitely more so than when
unjustly held in bondage, and compelled to yield to
the commands of a tyrannical task-master—and for*
ROBERT THE HERMIT. 31
ftinate no doubt would thousands of his enslaved fel*
low beings at the south, conceive thenw Ives, if they
were prh'iledged like him, to breathe the pure air
of freedom, even in an hovel more gloomy and
wretched, if possible, than the one which he now
claims as his own.
As the narrator has imputed a great portion of his
sufferings in early life, to the exercise of what the \
"Republicans" at the south, denominate a " Consti-
tutional right'* (to wit.) that of enslaving a por-
tion of their fellow beings of that persecuted race,
who are so unfortunate as to differ with then. «n the
complexion of their skins—the writer begs liberty
to mnkp this the subject of bis closing remarks.
Our forefathers, persecuted and hunted from their
native land, committed themselves to the bosom of
the deep, choosing to associate with the monsters of
the ocean, and to wander at large amid storms and
tempests ; rather than sacrifice their religion and
liberties to the inquisition of an inexorable tyrant.
Guided by heaven to these solitary shores, nature
received them with open arms and joyfully pressed
them to her rugged breast. By their tods and per-
severance* by that virtue derived from pure religion^
and that industry inspired by liberty, they rapidly
increased to a degree of population and opulence
which commanded national respectability—and happy
should we be could we here add, that such were the
principles that continued not only to govern them t#
the last, but the generation that succeeded them—
But, alas! it is truth too firmly established, that they*
'ere the elapse of many years, as if forgetful of their
•wn persecutions, became in their turn the }«,' se-
«utors and oppressors of* a portion of their u> offVnd-
ing fellow beings! -kidnappirg and consi^' t#
slavery the free-born sons of Africa soon ■ ./a
traffic, in which some of almost every st-ue i> he
iHuott wera engaged-—-and which.was attended i»
32 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF
many instances with acts of the most cruel barbarity*!
—for no other fault or crime than that of being bore
black, in an unsuspecting moment they were serzed,
forced from their own country, conveyed to this,
where husbands and wives, parents and children,
were separated with as much unconcern as sheep
and iambs by the butcher, and with the same indif-
Terenca disposed of to the highest bidders !—and in
bondage were for the most trivial ,^Fences made the
subjects of toittire and punishments to a degree that
would cause humanity to recoil at a bear recital.
But to the great honour of the sons of New-England,
'he it mentioned, tint they soon becnme sensible of
the wickedness of this abominable traffic, and a strict
prohibition was the consequence—an example of hu-
manity, Which was soon followed by the middle
states, and in which at the present day wc believe
slavery has become totally extinct.
But, not so with those who inhabit the southern
section of our count y, who, governed more by prin-
ciples of self-interest, than of humanity, at the pre^
sent day feast upon the fruits of the toils of thou-
sands of their enslaved fellow beings—and by whom
in some instances, they are treated with less humanity
than what the beasts of the field receive! These
(or a portion of them) are those who profess to be
the zealous advocates of the fc< rights of man I" and
the professed admirers of that admirable production
"fcf human wisdom, the Declaration of Independence*
wherein it is proclaimed that " all men are born
BREE and equal!'
"I would not have a slave to till my ground,
To carry me, to fan me while t sleep,
And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth
That sinews, bought and sold, have ever earn'di
No —dear as freedom is, and m my heart's
Just estimation prized above all'price,
1 had much rathe* be myself a sla\e,
JU4 wear the bonds, than ia sten them on hun***
ROBERT THE HERMIT. 33
The heart would sicken at the recital of the
punishments inflicted upon and the extreme sufferings
of the unhappy slaves of the south—indeed so goard-
ing is the yoke of bondage, that while some are driv-
en to the desperate act of not only destroying their
own lives, but that of their wretched offspring—oth-
ers seek to obtain their freedom by secreting them-
selves in thick swamps and marshes; where they re-
main concealed until they either fall victims to, or
are compelled by hunger to return again to their
masters, and submit to the punishment which* those
unfeeling wretches deem the merited reward of their
disobedience! A remarkable instance of the latter,
occurred in the State of North Carolina about 14
years ago, and although the particulars appeared in
many of our public prints, at that time, yet as they
may have escaped the notice of many of our readers,
we have thought that it would not be improper to re-
publish them—they are from the pen of a respecta-
ble gentleman of Petersburgh, communicated to his
friend in New-York.—they follow;
"While I resided in Newbern, N.C. in 1814, be*
ing informed that a Negro woman and two small
children, had been that day brought in, who had been
runaways for several years, I felt a wish to go and
see them particularly as there was something curi-
ous connected with their history. My friend ac-
compained me to the jail, for they had been lodged
there for safe keeping. —We there learned the par-
ticulars of the life which they lived, or rather the
miserable existence which they dragged out, during
the seven years which they had spent in the swamps,
in the neighborhood of Newbern.
The owner of this woman, about seven years pre-
viously, removed to the western country, and car-
ried with h«m all his slaves except thi? woman
and an infant girl, then in the arms of its mother,
F
34 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF
who, rather than be separated from her husband,
who was owned by another person, timely eloped
with her child, and completely avoided the vigi-
lance of her pursuers.
Those who are acquainted with the lower sec-
tion of that state, well know that it abounds in
marshes and fens over grown with weeds, and in-
terspersed, in some places, wuh clumps of pine
trees. In one of those dreary retreats this woman
found means to conceal herself for the space o
seven years: and to find means also far her sub-
sistence, partly by her own exertions and the as-
sistance of her husband, who would occasionally
make her a visit. Living in this situation, she soon
had an additional burthen upon her hands by the
birth of another child.
The manner in which she concealed herself
as well as her children from the discovery, was
truly singular. By the strictest discipline she pre-
vented them ever crying aloud; she compelled them
to stifle their little cries and complaints, though
urged to it by pinching hunger, or the severest
cold. She prohibited them from speaking louder;
than a whisper. This may appear strange to re-
late, bat it is certainly true; and as a proof that
no deception was used in this case it was satisfac-
torily ascertained, that after they had remainecP in
town for more than a month, in the company of
children who were noisy and clamorous, they were
not known in a single instance to raise their voices
higher than a soft whisper. At first, it was with
great difficulty that they could stand or walk erect,
and when they did attempt to walk, it was with
a low stoop, the bust inclining forward, and with
a hasty step like a patridge. But their favorite
position was that of squatting upon their hams.
In this posture, they could remain for hours with-
ROBERT THE HERMIT. SB
out any apparent weariness^ and at a given signal
would move one after the other with great facility,
and at the same time with so much caution, that
not the least noise could be heard by their footsteps.
Their method for subsistence was the most ex-
traordinary ; sometimes the husband, according to
the woman's account would fait to bring them sup-
plies; and whether the fear of detection prevented
her from intruding on the rights of others, or wheth-
er she was prevented by conscientious motives, is
not for me to determine—but in this dreadful ex-
igence, she would, for the support of herself and
children, have recourse to expedients which nothing
hut the most pressing necessity could ever suggest.
Frogs and terrapins were considered as rare dain-
ties, and even snakes would be taken ?s a lawful
prize to satisfy the calls of hunger.:—K was the
custom, said the woman in the little family, when
they made up a fire in the night, and this was done-
only in the cold nights' of winter, for one to sit
up, while the others slept. The one who* watched
had a double duty to perform—not only to do the
ordinary duty of a centinel, but to watch for mice;
which they contrived in the following manner. The
person watching, would spread a little meat on the
ground, or a few grains of corn or peas, or for
want of these, a crnst of^ bread when they had it;
over which an old handkerchief or piece of cloth,
was spread, then observing a profound and death*
like silence, the mice would creep from their re-
treats in order to possess themselves of the bait.
—The centinel, true to his post, as soon as the
cloth was moved by the vagrant mouse, would;
very dexteriously smack down a pair of hands up*
on him, and secure him for purposes yet to be
mentioned. The flesh, as may be supposed, was-
used for food, which they devoured with as little
$6 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF
ceremony as a boy would eat a snow bird j but e-
ven the skin was not thrown away: for they being
carefully preserved, the hair or fur was picked off,
and mixed with wool or cotton for the purpose of
making gloves and stockings—and they managed to
spin up the materials they could procure, by means
of a stick, about six or eight inches in length.
—This was held in the left hand, while, with the
right, they held the materials to be spun, they gave
Us a specimen of their adroitness in this art; and
the little boy, who was not above five years old,
could manage his stick with surprising dexterity.
—Several pair of stockings and gloves were shown,
which had been knit by these singular beings, du-
ring their voluntary banishment.—They were grotes-
que enough in their appearance, and were made
up of a greater medly of materials than are general-
ly used in the civilized world.
How much longer this deluded African, with
her two wretched children, would have remained
in the comfortless savannahs of North Carolina,
is not known, had not the woman been deserted by
her husband;--Being deprived of the solace she
derived from his transient visits, and the scanty
subsistence she received from his hand, her situa-
tion became miserable beyond description. At length
emaciated with hunger she crept to the road, gave
herself up, with her equally meagre looking charge,
to the first person she saw, who happened very
fortunately to be a man, with his cart going to-
wards town—the sight indeed, to the citizen, was
a novel one, if we may judge from the number
Who crowded to see and determine for themselves.*