The reader can fully sympathize with this intelligent and liberal-minded traveller, when he observes, "Trifling as this recital may appear, the circumstance was highly affecting to a person in my situation. I was oppressed with such unexpected kindness, and sleep fled from my eyes. In the morning, I presented my compassionate landlady with two of the four brass buttons remaining on my waistcoat; the only recompense I could make her." The Duchess of Devonshire, whose beauty and talent gained such extensive celebrity, was so much pleased with this African song, and the kind feelings in which it originated, that she put it into English verse, and employed an eminent composer to set it to music: 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, faint, and sad 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. 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."