ears were streaming. The eldest of these came up to me and,
looking for a moment at me, said, "Gwa, gwa, bundo bal," "Yes, yes, in
truth it is him;" and then, throwing her arms round me, cried bitterly,
her head resting on my breast; and, although I was totally ignorant of
what their meaning was, from mere motives of compassion I offered no
resistance to her caresses, however disagreeable they might be, for she
was old, ugly, and filthily dirty; the other younger one knelt at my
feet, also crying.

At last the old lady, emboldened by my submission, deliberately kissed me
on each cheek, just in the manner a French woman would have done; she
then cried a little more and, at length relieving me, assured me that I
was the ghost of her son who had some time before been killed by a
spear-wound in his breast. The younger female was my sister; but she,
whether from motives of delicacy or from any imagined backwardness on my
part, did not think proper to kiss me.

My new mother expressed almost as much delight at my return to my family
as my real mother would have done had I been unexpectedly restored to
her. As soon as she left me my brothers and father (the old man who had
previously been so frightened) came up and embraced me after their
manner, that is, they threw their arms round my waist, placed their right
knee against my right knee, and their breast against my breast, holding
me in this way for several minutes. During the time that the ceremony
lasted I, according to the native custom, preserved a grave and mournful
expression of countenance.

This belief, that white people are the souls of departed blacks, is by no
means an uncommon superstition amongst them; they themselves, never
having an idea of quitting their own land, cannot imagine others doing
it; and thus, when they see white people suddenly appear in their
country, and settling themselves down in particular spots, they imagine
that they must have formed an attachment for this land in some other
state of existence; and hence conclude the settlers were at one period
black men, and their own relations. Likenesses either real or imagined
complete the delusion; and from the manner of the old woman I have just
alluded to, from her many tears, and from her warm caresses, I feel
firmly convinced that she really believed I was her son, whose first
thought upon his return to earth had been to re-visit his old mother, and
bring her a present. I will go still farther an