16 
WANDERINGS IN 
first and u Willy come go,” will take up the tale of 
J ? U _ RNK \: sorrow. Ovid has told thee how the owl once 
boasted the human form, and lost it for a very small 
offence ; and were the poet alive now, he would 
inform thee, that u Whip-poor-Will,” and (C Willy 
come go,” are the shades of those poor African and 
Indian slaves, who died worn out and brokenhearted. 
They wail and cry, u Whip-poor-Will,” “ Willy 
come go,” all night long j and often, when the 
moon shines, you see them sitting on the green turf, 
near the houses of those whose ancestors tore them 
from the bosom of their helpless families, which all 
probably perished through grief and want, after 
their support was gone. 
Simon’s About an hour above the rock of Saba, stands the 
habitation of an Indian, called Simon, on the top 
of a hill. The side next the river is almost perpen¬ 
dicular, and you may easily throw a stone over to 
the opposite bank. Here there was an opportunity 
of seeing man in his rudest state. The Indians who 
frequented this habitation, though living in the 
midst of woods, bore evident marks of attention to 
their persons. Their hair was neatly collected, and 
tied up in a knot; their bodies fancifully painted 
red, and the paint was scented with hayawa. This 
gave them a gay and animated appearance. Some 
of them had on necklaces, composed of the teeth 
of wild boars slain in the chase; many wore rings, 
and others had an ornament on the left arm, midway 
betwixt the shoulder and the elbow. At the close 
of day, they regularly bathed in the river below; 
