The autobiography of Sir Henry Morton Stanley, G.C.B.Stanley, Henry M. (Henry Morton)
History
The autobiography of Sir Henry Morton Stanley, G.C.B.
Stanley, Henry M. (Henry Morton)
Africa, Central -- Biography; Explorers -- Africa -- Biography; Stanley, Henry M. (Henry Morton), 1841-1904
Towards evening we swept up; and, when we had tidied the store, it came
to my mind that I knew no lodging-house. In consulting with Dan, he said
he knew a Mrs. Williams, who kept a nice, cheap boarding-house on St.
Thomas Street, where I could be most comfortable. It was arranged that
he should introduce me, and I walked up Tchapitoulas Street, with the
two slaves, whose tin lunch-buckets swung heavily, I thought, as they
moved homeward.
Mrs. Williams, a young and black beauty, with intelligent features, was
most affable, and agreed to board me at a rate which would leave me a
respectable margin at the end of the week, and to give me a large attic
room for myself. Her house was of wood, with a garden in front, and a
spacious tree-shaded yard at the rear. The maternal solicitude she
showed in providing for my comfort greatly charmed me, though I was
forced to smile at her peculiar English and drawling accent. But when,
just as I was about to retire to my bedroom, she, in the most
matter-of-fact way, assisted me to undress, and took possession of my
shirt and collar, saying they would be washed and ironed by morning,
that I might look more ‘spruce,’ my estimation of her rose very high
indeed, and affected me to such a degree that I revolved all the
kindnesses I had experienced during the day, and was reminded to give
thanks to Him, Who, ‘like as a father, pitieth His children and them
that fear Him.’
The next morning, by half-past six, I was at the door of Speake and
McCreary’s store, fit for any amount of work, and glorying in my
condition. By eight o’clock the store, which was about one hundred feet
long, was sweet and clean, the sidewalk was swept, and the earlier
instalments of goods duly arranged on it for shipment. Then the
book-keeper and shipping-clerk entered, fresh and scented as for
courtship, took off their street coats, and donning their linen
‘dusters,’ resumed business. About nine, Mr. James Speake--McCreary was
dead--appeared with the mien of gracious masterhood, which to me was a
sign of goodness, and stimulative of noble efforts in his service.[3]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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