30th. Went on shore; had a meeting in the Baptist house. It was a final parting and a heavenly season. No doubt that we shall have the prayers of these dear people.
10th mo. 3d. Anchored this P. M. off Bassa.
4th. Went on shore, but with much difficulty, it being the worst bar on the coast. We proceeded along the coast until we found a place to land in safety. The natives managed with great skill, and as soon as we came near land they sprang into the water and caught me, and in a minute set me down high and dry, seemingly highly gratified, exclaiming "Mammy no wet." We called at a little cabin and got a cup of tea made, and when the rain subsided we proceeded to the town. Beautiful country, covered with orange trees and guava, but farms sadly neglected. I think the plough is needed as much as missionary labors, for without the former the latter cannot accomplish much.
P. M. Very rainy; had a ride in a hammock, or rather a substitute for one—a piece of native cloth with the ends fastened together with ropes, and a pole passed through loops; the poles rested on the natives' shoulders. It was placed on the ground for me to step in and lie down, but I begged the privilege of walking, which was refused, as it would injure my health, for the rain was pouring. I did not like it, although I did not get wet. The idea of a bier was constantly presenting itself, together with the fear that it was too great a burden for the poor natives. A terrible storm came up on our way back to the ship, and we nearly lost our lives in the angry waves.
5th, First day. Had a meeting in the evening on board, as it was very rainy. In retirement this day we could say with the Psalmist, "How precious are thy thoughts unto me!"
7th. Went ashore and had a meeting at Edina, on the north side of the St. John's River. It proved a memorable solemnity.
8th. Went on shore and had a meeting on the south side of the St. John's, at Bassa. The blessed Head of the Church was pleased to feed the hungering multitudes through His poor instruments. A number collected to witness our departure, and we took an affectionate leave of them, mingled with sadness, on our final departure from Bassa Cove.
Set sail about five o'clock with a brisk wind, which would take us to Monrovia by sunrise, but it soon became calm, and we came to anchor. The Lord knows what is best.
9th. We are quite anxious as we approach Monrovia, for here we must decide whether to remain in Africa and wait a passage to England (should none offer before the packet leaves), or return to Boston and thence embark to Liverpool. I trust we are resigned to either as the Lord wills.
10th. Anchored off Cape Mesurado. Dear Eli went on shore and found letters from home. We read them together with much joy, as they contained intelligence that all was well with the dear children and those at home. Boundless is our debt of gratitude. One of the immigrants who was in good health at the time of our last meeting on board is dead. We learned that she died in peace, but was cruelly treated by her husband.