I continued in the village all this day in conversation with
the natives, who came in crowds to see me; but was rather uneasy towards
evening, to find that no message had arrived from the king; the more so,
as the people began to whisper, that Mansong had received some very
unfavourable accounts of me, from the Moors and Slatees residing at Sego;
who it seems were exceedingly suspicious concerning the motives of my
journey. I learned that many consultations had been held with the king
concerning my reception and disposal; and some of the villagers frankly
told me, that I had many enemies, and must expect no favour.
July 22d. About eleven o'clock, a messenger arrived from the king, but he
gave me very little satisfaction. He inquired particularly if I had
brought any present; and seemed much disappointed when he was told that I
had been robbed of every thing by the Moors. When I proposed to go along
with him, he told me to stop until the afternoon, when the king would
send for me.
[Illustration: NEGRO SONG from Mr. PARK'S TRAVELS.
_THE WORDS BY THE DUTCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE_.
_THE MUSIC BY G.G. FERRARI_.
I.
The loud wind roar'd, the rain fell fast;
The White Man yielded to the blast:
He sat him down, beneath our tree;
For weary, sad, and faint was he;
And ah, no wife, or mother's care,
For him, the milk or corn prepare.
