accomplishments, he succeeded admirably as cook,
in which profession he might have earned high
wages, either in a family or on board ship; but
for his idleness. He entered my service, began
well, got tired of work, preferred lounging in
the streets, and, after coming home more than
once at three in the afternoon to cook the four
o'clock dinner, I dismissed him. He then hung
about idle until his money was spent, again went
into service, was turned out in a short time,
lounged in the kitchen sub rosâ—for I ordered
him off when I saw him—then came, penitent,
to beg that I would give him a trial during the
absence of another cook who had gone some
distance to get married. I told him he should
receive certain wages—not higher than the ordinary
rate—I keeping in hand the residue (of the
highest given by private families), which he
should have at the end of three months, if he,
in the mean while, conducted himself well. But
he was quite incorrigible. The old habit was
too strong. He was again dismissed, and the
money forfeited. He engaged himself as a ship-
cook, and, with a few pounds in hand, soon left his
employment, lounged on shore while his money
lasted, sponged in kitchens when it was gone,
and, when his clothes were too ragged even for
that pursuit, went in for a little work again.

A certain mason, an excellent workman, who
bore a good character, "knocked off" work, in
order to celebrate the arrival of his family with
several days' total idleness. When his money
was expended, he came to his employer to
borrow five dollars. The latter advised him to
earn them in the regular way, which he could
speedily do; but the mason indignantly declined,
and worked no more for that enemy of the Lord.

I might enumerate many such instances.
You cry out against the impertinence of your
London cabmen; and you cry out against the
oppressed state of the negro in Jamaica. What
would you say if, on paying a visit to a friend
in London, or any other town, your cabman
(at the expiration of ten minutes) came and
yelled at you under the windows, whip in
hand, and looking as if he meant mischief,
"Come now, sir! Can't wait all day! Come
along, sir! Are you ever coming? I won't
wait!" louder and with a yell. "Pay me my
money and let I go! I say! &c. &c.," with a
battering of the handle of his whip against the
hall door. But this I have witnessed and heard
on the part of a negro cabman in the town of
Kingston. At least, if they are oppressed, (?)
they are not cowed.

And now for one episode in the life of a nurse.

Anne came to me in that capacity, well
recommended. She was black-skinned; but oh, "her
heart white and pure as de white lady's!" By
this time I was rather hardening and gradually
becoming sceptical over flowery phrases. Anne's
sweetness and angelic smiles at the baby made
me suspicious. I soon received a letter from a
lady to inform me that while driving out she
met the child in his perambulator stationed in
the middle of the road, and no nurse with him.
That presently Anne appeared, dragged the
perambulator to the side of the road, upsetting
it in her haste, and terrifying the child, who
fortunately escaped uninjured. Of course I
taxed her with this. She waxed indignant,
fervid, holy, in her denials; but finally made
out a story about a sick friend. So I contented
myself with sending a guard to guard the nurse
when she went out to guard the child, and took
my time to seek another nurse. Meanwhile,
some lady friends came to stay with me, and
informed me that this woman begged of them
clothes and money, saying she had not got the
former, nor enough wages to pay for any. Her
trunk was so large that one man could not lift
it; her wages were high, and "everything
found!" So I sternly bade her go, giving the
money due to her into her hands. A scene
ensued, of entreaty, confession, appeal. She was
a woman who had been half ruined before she
came to me; I had saved her from starvation;
she would be homeless and friendless without me.
Oh! if I had a Christian's heart, try her once, only
once, and never should I have to repent it! I
was moved, and I did try her. Soon afterwards,
she left my child in the road two hours
and a half while she amused herself among her
friends. I then positively dismissed her. She
went quietly, and her huge case full of dresses
(I saw they were dresses, and costly too, for I
had surprised her while fondling her treasures
one day) followed her. It then came to my
knowledge that, from the date of her first warning,
she had taken a lodging, and furnished it,
and that, immediately on quitting my service,
she set up comfortably as a laundress.

I had a poor old woman pensioner, who came
daily for the leavings of breakfast and dinner.
For years her husband had been bedridden; for
years she, wretched soul, had lived in a state of
semi-starvation, and miserable sickness. Having
at that time a cook, whom I supposed to be
a kind-hearted, conscientious man, I told him
her case, and that I trusted in him to save
her a little food daily. "Dat I will, missus,"
was the ready answer; "you do well to be
kind to de poor. The Lord will reward you
and your children." This had a touching sound,
but the result of this trust of mine was that, on
her approach, she was assailed by brutal
language, and refused a morsel: while the food
that she ought to have had was given to a fat
flaunting woman too idle to work, who daily
came to receive it.

Among these worthy servants, there was one
whose quiet revenge for a rebuke was always
to fling wine-glasses on the floor and smash
them. Our stock of glass imported from home
thus dwindled rapidly away. Did he, I wonder,
"thank the Lord," who enabled him to revenge
himself?

These few specimens of character, taken from
the most honest, respectable, and civilised
amongst the class (and who, unlike the lower
grades, do not steal, murder, or habitually commit
acts of savage brutality), are a pretty fair
evidence of the nature, or second nature, or
both combined, of the liberated negro in our