We had some conversation with several apprentices, who called on Mr. Bourne for advice and aid. They all thought the apprenticeship very hard, but still, on the whole, liked it better than slavery. They “were killed too bad,”—that was their expression—during slavery—were worked hard and terribly flogged. They were up ever so early and late—went out in the mountains to work, when so cold busha would have to cover himself up on the ground. Had little time to eat, or go to meeting. ’Twas all slash, slash! Now they couldn’t be flogged, unless the magistrate said so. Still the busha was very hard to them, and many of the apprentices run away to the woods, they are so badly used.
The next plantation which we visited was Dublin Castle. It lies in a deep valley, quite enclosed by mountains. The present attorney has been in the island nine years, and is attorney for several other properties. In England he was a religious man, and intimately acquainted with the eccentric Irving. For a while after he came out he preached to the slaves, but having taken a black concubine, and treating those under his charge oppressively, he soon obtained a bad character among the blacks, and his meetings were deserted. He is now a most passionate and wicked man, having cast off even the show of religion.
Mr. B. visited Dublin Castle a few weeks since, and spent two days in hearing complaints brought against the manager and book-keeper by the apprentices. He fined the manager, for different acts of oppression, one hundred and eight dollars. The attorney was present during the whole time. Near the close of the second day he requested permission to say a few words, which was granted. He raised his hands and eyes in the most agonized manner, as though passion was writhing within, and burst forth—“O, my God! my God! has it indeed come to this! Am I to be arraigned in this way? Is my conduct to be questioned by these people? Is my authority to be destroyed by the interference of stranger? O, my God!” And he fell back into the arms of his book-keeper, and was carried out of the room in convulsions.
The next morning we started on another excursion, for the purpose of attending the appraisement of an apprentice belonging to Silver Hill, a plantation about ten miles distant from Grecian Regale. We rode but a short distance in the town road, when we struck off into a narrow defile by a mule-path, and pushed into the very heart of the mountains.
We felt somewhat timid at the commencement of our excursion among these minor Andes, but we gained confidence as we proceeded, and finding our horse sure-footed and quite familiar with mountain paths, we soon learned to gallop, without fear, along the highest cliffs, and through the most dangerous passes. We were once put in some jeopardy by a drove of mules, laden with coffee. We fortunately saw them, as they came round the point of a hill, at some distance, in season to secure ourselves in a little recess where