Mr. Brown, like too many other white men in this island, carried on an amour with a woman belonging to the property, named Christiana, and it was the first intention of Cambridge to murder her as well as the overseer, supposing it was through her communications that so many discoveries of thefts had been made. On the Christmas day, Cambridge dressed himself in his best suit, and proceeded with many of his fellow slaves to the Methodist chapel at Parham, intending upon his return home to waylay and murder the woman, who had also visited the same place of worship. In pursuance of his plan, he hurried out of chapel immediately after service, and took up his stand in a part of the road which he knew Christiana must pass. After waiting in vain for a long time, a group of negroes at length hastened by, when Cambridge, whose stock of patience was exhausted, joined them, and asked if they knew where Christiana was? In answer to his query, they informed him she had visited a neighbouring estate, and after remaining there for a short time had proceeded home by another path. Thus thwarted in his views of obtaining revenge, his designs upon Mr. Brown gained double hold of him; and hastening home, he disrobed himself, put on his working-dress, and first telling his wife, “_That he had lost one opportunity, but he would take good care he did not lose the next_,” quitted the house, taking the old copper skimmer with him. It was a beautiful evening; the moon shone in all her splendour, and every star that twinkled in the heavens glittered around that murderer’s step. Oh, that such dreadful thoughts should have possessed that man’s mind in the midst of such a lovely scene upon the evening of that very day when angels proclaimed “Good will towards man!” But, alas!— “Nor grateful evening mild, nor silent night, ———————— nor walk by moon, Or glittering starlight,” had any effect upon his hardened heart— “His soul was dark within; He lived but in the sound Of shamelessness and sin.” Many a minute stole away, and Cambridge (who had concealed himself in a cane-piece, bordering the road his intended victim must necessarily pass) kept his fatal stand. Not a sound was heard, save the evening breeze as it whispered among the long leaves of the sugar-cane, or the occasional croaking of some night reptile. At length, the tread of a horse’s foot was heard, and warned the murderer to be upon his guard. Unconscious of the dreadful fate hanging over him, Mr. Brown rode slowly on, accompanied by a black boy, when, as he was passing between two cane-pieces, just where the canes grew thick and high, with one bound the murderer was upon him. A heavy blow from the sharpened skimmer upon his head, stunned him; and ere a prayer could rise to his lips, his soul flew to meet his God, and his murderer was left standing alone, with the stain of human blood upon him.[26]