first time, old Jacob was a man—­a wicked sinner!—­drink rum, fight—­love to fight!  Carry coffin to de grabe on me head; put dead body under ground—­dance over it—­den fight and knock man down—­go ’way, drink rum, den take de fiddle.  And so me went on, just so, till me get sick and going to die—­thought when me die, dat be de end of me;—­den de Savior come to me! Jacob love de Savior, and been followin’ de good Savior ever since.”  He continued his story, describing the opposition he had to contend with, and the sacrifices he made to go to church.  After working on the estate till six o’clock at night, he and several others would each take a large stone on his head and start for St. John’s; nine miles over the hills.  They carried the stones to aid is building the Moravian chapel at Spring Garden, St. John’s.  After he had finished this account, he read to us, in a highly animated style, some of the hymns which he taught to the old people, and then sung one of them.  These exercises caused the old man’s heart to burn within him, and again he ran over his past life, his early wickedness, and the grace that snatched him from ruin, while the mingled tides of gratitude burst forth from heart, and eyes, and tongue.

When we turned his attention to the temporal freedom he had received, he instantly caught the word FREE, and exclaimed vehemently, “O yes, me Massa—­dat is anoder kind blessin from de Savior!  Him make we all free.  Can never praise him too much for dat.”  We inquired whether he was now provided for by the manager.  He said he was not—­never received any thing from him—­his children supported him.  We then asked him whether it was not better to be a slave if he could get food and clothing, than to be free and not have enough.  He darted his quick eye at us and said ‘rader be free still.’  He had been severely flogged twice since his conversion, for leaving his post as watchman to bury the dead.  The minister was sick, and he was applied to, in his capacity of helper, to perform funeral rites, and he left his watch to do it.  He said, his heavenly Master called him, and he would go though he expected a flogging.  He must serve his Savior whatever come.  “Can’t put we in dungeon now,” said Grandfather Jacob with a triumphant look.

When told that there were slaves in America, and that they were not yet emancipated, he exclaimed, “Ah, de Savior make we free, and he will make dem free too.  He come to Antigo first—­he’ll be in Merica soon.”

When the time had come for him to leave, he came and pressed our hands, and fervently gave us his patriarchal blessing.  Our interview with Grandfather Jacob can never be forgotten.  Our hearts, we trust, will long cherish his heavenly savor—­well assured that if allowed a part in the resurrection of the just, we shall behold his tall form, erect in the vigor of immortal youth, amidst the patriarchs of past generations.