I do not think Mou-Setsé ever told any one what his feelings really were when he at last understood that he was free; that the English who had captured him, far from being his worst enemies, were proving themselves his best friends.

There is a story told of him that, when he first landed at Sierra Leone, and saw a kind-looking black woman, he threw his arms round her neck, whispered to her in his native tongue that she was like his mother, and wept some of the tears he had restrained through all his sufferings on her bosom.

But perhaps his early and great suffering had made him reserved, for, unlike most of his race, he had few words, and no ejaculations, to betray his feelings.

For a time he even scarcely trusted the new life of peace and happiness which was opening before him. He had many dreams of being retaken as a slave, and his little face had a wistful and scarcely trustful expression.

The kind English, however, did well by him. He was sent to a mission school at Freetown, where he was taught to read and to speak English; also to write, and, above all, in this school he first got any true, knowledge of God.

It was wonderful how this knowledge took possession of him – how he craved to know more and more of his Father in Heaven; how eagerly he asked; how quickly he learned; and then, as the great love of God revealed itself, how his own warm heart leaped up in answer to it, until all the “fear which hath torment” passed away, and the little face became bright and happy.

The good missionaries at Sierra Leone were more than kind to Mou-Setsé; they had him baptised and openly proclaimed as a Christian. At his baptism they called him “John,” but Mou-Setsé would never allow himself to be addressed by this name. His mother had herself given him his other name, and the missionaries, when they saw how his heart still clung to his mother, spoke to him and of him by his old African name. In his new home he grew tall and strong; and having, notwithstanding the suffering he had endured on it, a fancy for the sea, went on board an English merchant-vessel when fourteen years of age. In this vessel he travelled over many parts of the world, and saw strange sights and new faces. Thus his childhood and early youth passed away.

Story 1 – Chapter V.
Part II – A Purpose

Mou-Setsé grew up to be a man, with a very fixed purpose in his heart. All his thoughts and all his desires were bent on its accomplishment; but, as I said before, he was reserved, and never spoke of this thought of his inmost heart to human being. It brought out, however, marked characteristics in his face, and those who knew him well often spoke of the fire and earnestness in his eyes.

As a sailor, he was a favourite with the crew and with the captain – that is, he was as great a favourite as any boy with a black skin could be, for it must not be supposed that all white people were as kind to him as the good missionaries; but, on the whole, he was well treated, and no rude words addressed to him on account of his colour brought a retort from his lips.

He was by no means, however, wanting in bravery, as a little incident once showed. A great hulking white fellow had been abusing him, taunting him with cowardice, and daring him to fight. The sailors belonging to his ship looked on amused, and (as he was a blacky) not caring to interfere.

“You ain’t nothing but a coward,” said the white man; “a coward, and the son of a slave.”

At these words Mou-Setsé, who had been sitting very still and apparently unheeding, rose to the full length of his great height. The words “son of a slave” had brought a certain flash into his eye.

With a stride, he was at the real coward’s side.

“I not fight,” he said; “you not make me fight, when de Book say no. No; I not fight, but I knock you down.”

In a moment, without the least apparent effort, the hulking white fellow lay at his feet.

“I specs you not like to lie dere,” continued Mou-Setsé. “Well, you beg de black man’s pardon; den you get up and go away.”

After this little scene, no one cared: again to molest Mou-Setsé.

He remained a sailor until he was two-and-twenty; then he took his leave of the captain and his crew, and left their ship. He had become a sailor for the furtherance of his hidden and unspoken purpose. Now, having made and saved money, he went away. His purpose was calling him to America – then, indeed, the land of slaves.

Story 1 – Chapter VI.
Mou – Setsé Seeks to Fulfil his Purpose

I have said that Mou-Setsé had a fixed purpose. This purpose led him to America. He settled in a certain town in one of the States, and with the money he had saved opened a small shop or store. He dealt in the kind of goods that his black brothers and sisters most needed, and many of them frequented his little shop.

At this period of his life some people considered him miserly. His shop did well and his money stores increased, but he himself lived in the most parsimonious style; he scarcely allowed himself the necessaries of life, and never thought of marrying or giving himself the comforts of a home. All day long he attended his shop, but in the evening he went about a great deal, and gradually became known to all his black brothers and sisters in the town. Most of these were in slavery, and many had most bitter tales to tell. A few, however, were free; these were the slaves who had worked for long years to obtain sufficient money to buy this precious boon from their masters. With these free slaves Mou-Setsé held much intercourse, asking them of their past life, and always inquiring most particularly from what part of Africa they or their parents had come. By degrees, as he collected money, he helped these free slaves to emigrate to Canada, where they could enjoy and make a good use of the freedom they had so dearly won. But he never helped any one to go away with his money without first exacting a promise from him or her. This promise was made in secrecy, and was, I believe, faithfully kept by each and all.

As he helped each poor freed slave to get away (and as his gains increased he helped many) – as he helped them off, and knew that he had gained a certain promise from them, his heart grew lighter, and he felt that he was nearer to the realisation of some dearly cherished dream. On these occasions he often repaired to a certain church and prayed. Kneeling in the quiet church, the black man poured out a very full heart to his loving Father in heaven. “God, de good God,” he would say, “let me not cry in vain; let me see my fader and moder and my broders and sister again. Give me more of de money, good God, and more, much more of de faith; so dat I may send more and more of de poor blackies to look for dose as I lobs!”

But his great anxiety about his own people by no means closed the heart of Mou-Setsé to those whose troubles he daily witnessed. For reasons of his own, he was always down on the quay to watch the faces of any new slaves that might come. He knew before any one else of a fresh slave who was brought into the town, and he always attended the slave market. But he did more; he helped his brethren whose groans went daily – indeed, night and day – up to heaven. Many a poor mother, when she was torn from her child, went to Mou-Setsé’s store, and poured out her great trouble into his kind heart; and somehow or other, he managed to get tidings of the lost child, or the lost parent or husband. By degrees he made an immense connection for himself all over America, and no one knew more about the ways and doings of the black people than he did.

Story 1 – Chapter VII.
Mou – Setsé Waits and Watches

Years went by, bringing changes, bringing to Mou-Setsé grey hairs, taking from him his fresh youth, and adding to his face some anxious lines. But the years brought greater changes than the light hands they lay upon head and brow, to his black brothers and sisters in America. The brave souls who had fought through thick and thin for the freedom of the slaves, who had gone through danger and hardship almost at the peril of their lives in this great cause, had won a noble victory. America, by setting free her black brethren, had also removed from herself a most grievous curse.

The black men were free, and Mou-Setsé had removed from the little town where he had first settled to the larger and more flourishing one of St. Louis. He had succeeded as a merchant, and was now a rich man. His love for his brethren had also increased with years. He did much to help them. He was reverenced and loved by all who knew him, and that was saying no little, for there was scarcely a black man in the States who did not know Mou-Setsé. But the dearly-longed-for and unfulfilled purpose was still discernible on his face, and oftener than ever would he repair to the church to pray.

“I specs de dere Lord will be good to me,” he would say; “de dere Lord hab patience wid me. I told de Lord dat I would have great patience wid Him. I will wait His good leisure. I believe as I will see my people again.”

Mou-Setsé had for long years now added work to his prayers, leaving no stone unturned to find or obtain some tidings of the father and mother and brothers and sister from whom he had been so cruelly torn. But all his efforts had been as yet in vain, no description even resembling them had ever reached his ears.

His black friends told him that his father and mother had either never reached America or had long been dead. But Mou-Setsé would never believe these evil reports, his strong faith that at least some of his own would be restored to him, that the work and labour of his life would not be in vain, never deserted him.

“I tole de Lord dat I would have great patience,” he would reply to those who begged of him to give up so hopeless a search, and doubtless patience was doing its perfect work, for the end for which he so longed was at hand.