I.—"Is that all?"
Said.—"No; they say, 'Where are we going to? The world is large, O God! Where are we going? O God! Shall we return again to our country?'"
I.—"Is that all, what else?"
Said.—"They call to their remembrance their own country and say, 'Bornou was a pleasant country, full of all good things, but this is a bad country and we are miserable, and are ready to sink down.'"
I.—"Do they say anything more?"
Said.—"No, they repeat these words over and over again, and add, 'O God! give us our âtkah, let us go to our dear home.'"
I am not surprised the Moors never gave me a satisfactory answer respecting the songs said and sung by their slaves. Who can assert that the above words are not an appropriate song? What could have been more congenially adapted to their present woeful condition? And what language could have given us a more favourable opinion of the feeling and intellect of the African? May pitying Heaven hear the prayers of these poor creatures, give them their liberty, restore them to their country! It is not to be wondered at, these poor bondswomen should cheer up their hearts with words and sentiments like these; but, oftentimes, their sufferings were too great for them to strike up this melancholy dirge, and the silence of the dreadful Desert was many days unsubdued, uninterrupted by these mournful strains!
I take this opportunity of noticing the several love ditties and songs about gallant chiefs and warriors returning from battle, the lovers of the sable maidens, attributed to these poor female slaves en route over The Desert, as found in some books of travel, which, I believe, are the invention of slave-masters, embellished by the traveller. No; their song is, and was, and always will be, because the spontaneous voice of distressed nature, appealing to the justice and help of the Author of all being!
"O God! give us our freedom. Where are we going? The world is large and terrifies us.