"A few years ago it was enacted, that it should not be legal to transport once established slaves from one island to another; and a gentleman owner, finding it advisable to do so before the act came in force, the removal of a great part of his _live stock_ was the consequence. He had a female slave, a Methodist, and highly valuable to him, (not the less so for being the mother of eight or nine children,) whose husband, also of our connection, was the property of another resident on the island, where I happened to be at the time. Their masters not agreeing on a sale, separation ensued, and I went to the beach to be an eye-witness of their behavior in the greatest pang of all. One by one, the man kissed his children, with the firmness of a hero, and blessing them, gave as his last words--(oh! will it be believed, and have no influence upon our veneration for the negro?) 'Farewell! _Be honest, and obedient to your master!_' At length he had to take leave of his wife: there he stood, (I have him in my mind's eye at this moment,) five or six yards from the mother of his children, unable to move, speak, or do any thing but gaze, and still to gaze, on the object of his long affection, soon to cross the blue waves for ever from his aching sight. The fire of his eyes alone gave indication of the passion within, until after some minutes standing thus, he fell senseless on the sand, as if suddenly struck down by the hand of the Almighty. Nature could do no more; the blood gushed from his nostrils and mouth, as if rushing from the terrors of the conflict within; and amid the confusion occasioned by the circumstance, the vessel bore off his family for ever from the island! After some days he recovered, and came to ask advice of me. What _could_ an Englishman do in such a case? I felt the blood boiling within me; but I conquered. I browbeat my own manhood, and gave him the humblest advice I could."