ABSTRACT
Adolphus burst into tears, and, looking at me as if to read my thoughts, ‘Oh! Mr. Hamilton, you will not let Sambo stay to be a slave? — Go with us, Sambo. — Oblige him to go, my dear friend.’ — I was really distressed, and the more when the affectionate creature, kissing the prince’s hand, his heart apparently rising to his throat, with a tremulous voice, said, — ‘Dear Massa, poor Sambo tank you, — but, Omra stay, me stay too. Work all day, — fare hard, — all for poor Omra. — Me go, who comfort her? She cry, man laugh. — She sick, tired, labor all day, no one pity. — She call Sambo, — Sambo gone. — Sink down. — Die!’ — He could say no more, but passing his arm over his face, strove to hide or wipe off the swelling drops that would force themselves a passage. The scene was pitiable, but I continued silent; when Adolphus, as if impelled by some happy thought, flew from us, ran down to his chest, and presently returned with a parcel, — ‘Here, (said he to the unhappy man,) take this gold dust, it is all I have. Go, lose no time, fetch her on board. We will all go to England together.’
