_Wife._ No; great old Benamuckee G.o.d is in my country, not yours.

_A._ My dear, G.o.d is in heaven, which he made; he also made the earth, the sea and all that is therein.

_Wife._ Why you no tell me much long ago?

_A._ My dear I have been a wicked wretch, having a long time lived without the knowledge of G.o.d in the world.

_Wife._ What, not know great G.o.d in own nation? No do good ting? No say O to him? that's strange!

_A._ But, my dear, many live as if there was no G.o.d in heaven for all that.

_Wife._ Why G.o.d suffer them? why makee not live well?

_A._ It is our own faults, child.

_Wife._ But if he is much great, can makee kill, why no makee kill when no serve him? No be good mans, no cry O to him?

_A._ That's true, my dear, he may strike us dead, but his abundant mercy spareth us.

_Wife._ Did not you tell G.o.d thanked for that?

_A._ No, I have neither thanked him for his mercy, nor feared him for his power.

_Wife._ Then me not believe your G.o.d be good, nor makee kill, when you makee him angry.

_A._ Alas! must my wicked life hinder you from believing in him?

_Wife_. How can me tink your G.o.d lives there? _(pointing to heaven.)_ Sure he no ken what you do here.

_A._ Yes, my dear, he hears us speak, sees what we do, and knows what we even think.

_Wife._ Where then makee power strong, when he hears you curse, swear de great d.a.m.n?

_A._ My dear, this shows indeed he is a G.o.d and not a man who has such tender mercy.

_Wife._ Mercy I what you call mercy?

_A._ He pities and spares us: as he is our great Creator, so he is also our tender Father.

_Wife._ So G.o.d never angry, never kill wicked, then he no good, no great mighty.

_A._ O my dear, don't say so, he is both; and many times he shows terrible examples of his judgment and vengeance.

_Wife._ Then you makee de bargain with him; you do bad ting, he no hurt you, he hurt other mans.

_A._ No, indeed, my lips are all presumptions upon his goodness.

_Wife._ Well, and yet no makee you dead; and you give him no tankee neither?

_A._ It is true, I an ungrateful, unthankful dog, that I am.

_Wife._ Why, you say, he makee you, why makee you no much better then?

_A._ It is I alone that have deformed myself, and abused his goodness.

_Wife._ Pray makee G.o.d know me, me no makee him angry, no do bad ting.

_A._ You mean, my dear, that you desire I would teach you to know G.o.d: alas! poor dear creature, he must teach thee, and not I. But I'll pray earnestly to him to direct thee, and to forgive me, a miserable sinner.

_(Hereupon he went a little distance, and kneeling down, prayed earnestly to G.o.d to enlighten her mind, and to pardon his sins; when this was done, they continued their discourse thus.)_

_Wife._ What you put down knee for? For what hold up hand? Who you speak to?

_A._ My dear, I bowed in token of submission to him that made me, and prayed that he would open your eyes and understanding.

_Wife._ And can he do that too? And will he hear what you say?

_A._ Yes, my dear, he bids us pray, and has given us promise that he will hear us.

_Wife._ When did he bid you pray? What I do you hear him speak?

_A._ No, my dear, but G.o.d has spoken formerly to good men from heaven; and by divine revelation they have written all his laws down in a book.

_Wife_. O where dat good book?

_A_. I have it not now by me; but one time or other I shall get it for you to read. _Then he embraced her with great affection_.

_Wife_. Pray tell a mee, did G.o.d, teachee them write that book?

_A_. Yes, and by that rule we know him to be G.o.d.

_Wife_. What way, what rule you know him?

_A_. Because he teaches what is good, just, and holy; and forbids all wicked and abominable actions that incur his displeasure.

_Wife_. O me fain understand that, and if he do all things you say he do, surely he hear me say O to him; he makee me good if I wish to be good, he no kill me if I love him; me tink, believe him great G.o.d; me say O to him, along with you, my dear.

_Here the poor man fell upon his knees, and made her kneel down by him praying with the greatest fervency, that G.o.d would instruct her by his Holy Spirit; and that G.o.d by his providence would send them a Bible for both their instructions. And such was the early piety of this new convert, that she made him promise never to forsake G.o.d any more, lest being_ made dead, _as she called it; she should not only want her instructor, but himself be miserable in a long eternity_.

Such a surprising account as this was, proved very affecting to us both, but particularly to the young clergyman, who was mightily concerned he could not talk to her himself. "Sir," said he, "there, is something more to be done to this woman then to marry her; I mean that she ought to be baptized." To this, I presently agreed: "Pray," said he, "ask her husband, whether he has ever talked to her of Jesus Christ, the salvation of sinners, the nature of faith, and redemption in and by him, of the Holy Spirit, the resurection, last judgment, and a future state;"

but the poor fellow melted into tears at this question, saying, that he had said something to her of these things, but his inability to talk of them, made him afraid, lest her knowledge of them should rather make her contemn religion, than be benefited by it; but that if I would discourse with her, it would be very evident my labour would not be in vain.

Accordingly I called her in, and placing myself as interpreter between the religious priest and the woman, I entreated him to go on; but surely never was such a sermon preached by any clergyman in these latter days, with so much zeal, knowledge, and sincerity; in short, he brought the woman to embrace the knowledge of Christ, and of redemption by him, with so surprising a degree of understanding, that she made it her own request to be baptized.

He than performed his office in the sacrament of baptism, first, by saying some words over to himself in Latin, and then asking me to give her a name, as being her G.o.dfather, and pouring a whole dish-full of water upon the woman's head, he said, "_Mary_, I baptize thee in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost;" so that none could know of what religion he was. After this he p.r.o.nounced the benediction in Latin. Thus the woman being made a Christian, he married her to Will Atkins; which being finished, he affectionately exhorted him to lead a holy life for the future; and since the Almighty, for the convictions of his conscience, had honoured him to be the instrument or his wife's conversion, he should not dishonor the grace of G.o.d, that while the savage was converted, the instrument should be cast away. Thus ended a ceremony, to me the most pleasant and agreeable I ever pa.s.sed in my life.

The affairs of the island being settled, I was preparing to go on board, when the young man (whose mother was starved) came to me, saying, that as he understood I had a clergyman with me, who had married the Englishmen with savages, he had a match to make between two Christians, which he desired might be finished before I departed. Thinking that it was he himself that had courted his mother's maid, I persuaded him not to do any thing rashly upon the account of his solitary circ.u.mstances; that the maid was an unequal match for him, both in respect to substance and years; and that it was very probable he would live to return to his own country, where he might have a far better choice. At these words, smiling, he interrupted me, thanking me for my good-advice; that as he had nothing to beg of me but a small settlement, with a servant or two, or some new necessaries, so he hoped I would not be unmindful of him when I returned to England, but give his letter to his friends; and that when he was redeemed, the plantation, and all its improvements, however valuable, should be returned to me again. But as for the marriage he proposed, that it was not himself, but that it was between my Jack-of-all-trades and the maid Susan.

I was indeed agreeably surprised at the mentioning this match, which seemed very suitable, the one being a very ingenious fellow, and the other an excellent, dexterous, and sensible housewife, fit to be governess of the whole island; so we married them the same day; and as I was her father, and gave her away, so I gave her a handsome portion, appointing her and her husband a convenient large s.p.a.ce of ground for their plantation. The sharing out of the land I left to Will Atkins, who really divided if very justly, to every person's satisfaction; they only desired one general writing under my hand for the whole, which I caused to be drawn up, signed, and sealed to them, setting out their bounds, and giving them a right to the whole possession of their respective plantations, with their improvements, to them and their heirs, reserving all the rest of the island as my own property, and a certain rent for every particular plantation, after eleven years. As to their laws and government, I exhorted them to love one another; and as to the Indians who lived in a nook by themselves, I allotted three or four of them plantations, and the rest willingly chose to become servants to the other families, by which means they were employed in useful labour, and fared much better than they did before. Besides the savages thus mixed with the Christians, the work of their conversion might be set on foot by the latter, in the clergyman's absence, to our equal satisfaction.

The young priest, however, was a little anxious lest the Christians should not be willing to do their parts in instructing these poor Indians; I therefore told him we should call them all together; that he should speak to the Spaniards who were Papists, and I to the English, who were Protestants, and make them promise that they would never make any distinction in religion, but teach the general true knowledge of G.o.d, and his son Jesus Christ, in order to convert the poor savages. And this, indeed, they all promised us accordingly.