I now laid myself down upon my bed but it was in vain that I attempted to sleep. I lay for several hours, and finding it impossible to repose, I went to the window and looked forth upon the scene. The moon was shining with wonderful brightness, and from the eminence on which the plantation stood, I had a distinct view of the surrounding country. The river Surinam shone like silver in the distance, the air was filled with spicy fragrance, and a kind of dazzling light or silvery mist seemed to be diffused throughout the whole space beneath the sky. The whole aspect of nature and the objects around me was strange, yet lovely. There was a balmy softness in the atmosphere, a kind of twilight splendor over the face of nature, which excited my admiration, and, at the same time, gave me a sort of pensive and lonely feeling, at the idea that I was far, very far, from my home.
I remained at the window looking out at the scene for some time. At last the morning came, and before the sun had risen, I went forth into the fields. An immense extent of ground, belonging to the plantation, was covered with coffee trees. These were about ten feet in height, planted in rows at the distance of about ten feet from each other. They somewhat resemble the peach tree; but the leaves are longer, narrower, and highly varnished. These trees, or rather shrubs, are evergreens, and produce fruit when they are about four years old. They live to a great age—sometimes a hundred years. They were now covered with large branches of white blossoms, which gave forth a sweet odor. The coffee berry grows in a kind of fruit, which is red when ripe, and has a very beautiful appearance upon the trees.
After looking about the grounds for a short time, I was returning to the house, when I met the black-eyed daughter of the planter. She bade me good morning, in English, and, to my joy and surprise, I found that she knew a few words of that language. We tried to enter into conversation, but without much success. She asked me my name; and when I told her it was Dick Boldhero, she manifested much surprise and interest. She spoke with great earnestness, and seemed to have an intense desire to know something more. At last, I saw the tears come down her cheeks, and I felt an emotion which I cannot describe. After a time, we separated, and having taken breakfast, I bade adieu to the plantation, and set forward upon my journey.
[To be continued.]
William Ellery Channing.[1]
Dr. Channing was born at Newport, Rhode Island, April 7th, 1780. His father, William Channing, Esq., an eminent lawyer of Newport, died in the midst of his vigor, and at the height of his professional success, when his son William was in his fourteenth year. His mother, was a daughter of William Ellery, one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence. She died in Boston, in 1834. His father’s character doubtless exerted an influence in forming the mind of his son, but the nearer intimacy, which, in the long period through which his mother remained the sole possessor of his filial regard, gave her a peculiar power over him.
Dr. Channing is said to have been remarked in early youth as singularly pure-minded, devout, earnest, and aspiring—leaving his friends to anticipate from him great excellence and eminence of character. He graduated at Cambridge, Mass., in 1798, bearing with him the highest honors of the institution, and having distinguished himself for habits of diligence, and for blamelessness of conduct. He now accepted an invitation to reside a year with a gentleman of Virginia, as the instructor of his children. Here he doubtless laid the foundation of that feebleness of constitution which attended him through life. Here, also, he probably adopted the resolution to devote himself to the ministry. He pursued his professional studies, partly with his uncle, Rev. Henry Channing, of New London, Connecticut, and partly at Cambridge.
Mr. Channing received an invitation to settle over the Church and Society in Brattle Square, at the same time that he received one from the Federal Street Church. He chose to accept the latter; his preference being determined “partly by considerations of health, and partly by diffidence;” his humility producing a distrust of his own fitness for the office of a Christian minister, that for a time was painfully oppressive, and finally led him, in connection with his health, to choose the less conspicuous and important of the situations offered him.
His ordination took place on the 1st of June, 1803. An old copy of the Columbian Centinel contains the following notice: “Ordination.—Yesterday was ordained to the pastoral care of the Church in Federal Street, the Rev. Wm. Ellery Channing. The Rev. Mr. Holmes introduced the solemnity by prayer. Professor Tappan delivered the sermon from Eph. iii. 8, 9; the Rev. Dr. Osgood made the ordaining prayer; the Rev. Henry Channing gave the charge; the Rev. Mr. Tuckerman expressed the fellowship of the Church; and the Rev. Dr. Eckley made the concluding prayer. The ceremonial was conducted, and the services performed, with a solemnity and fervor suited to the occasion.”