ater importance of being free from _sin_. That, they said, was
better. _Heaven was the first best, and freedom was the next best_.

They gave us some account, in the course of the evening, of an aged
saint called Grandfather Jacob, who lived on a neighboring estate. He
had been a _helper_[A] in the Moravian church, until he became too
infirm to discharge the duties connected with that station. Being for
the same reason discharged from labor on the estate, he now occupied
himself in giving religious instruction to the other superannuated
people on the estate.

[Footnote A: An office somewhat similar to that of deacon]

Mrs. M. said it would constitute an era in the life of the old man, if
he could have an interview with two strangers from a distant land;
accordingly, she sent a servant to ask him to come to the mission-house
early the next morning. The old man was prompt to obey the call. He left
home, as he said, 'before the gun fire'--about five o'clock--and came
nearly three miles on foot. He was of a slender form, and had been tall,
but age and slavery had bowed him down. He shook us by the hand very
warmly, exclaiming, "God bless you, God bless you--me bery glad to see
you." He immediately commenced giving us an account of his conversion.
Said he, putting his hand on his breast, "You see old Jacob? de old
_sinner_ use to go on _drinkin', swearin', dancin', fightin'!_ No God--
no Savior--no soul! _When old England and de Merica fall out de first
time_, old Jacob was a man--a wicked sinner!--drink rum, fight--love to
fight! Carry coffin to de grabe on me head; put dead body under
ground--dance over it--den fight and knock man down--go 'way, drink rum,
den take de fiddle. And so me went on, just so, till me get sick and
going to die--thought when me die, dat be de end of me;--_den de Savior
come to me!_ Jacob love de Savior, and been followin' de good Savior
ever since." He continued his story, describing the opposition he had to
contend with, and the sacrifices he made to go to church. After working
on the estate till six o'clock at night, he and several others would
each take a large stone on his head and start for St. John's; nine miles
over the hills. They carried the stones to aid is building the Moravian
chapel at Spring Garden, St. John's. After he had finished this account,
he read to us, in a highly animated style, some of the hymns which he
taught to the old people, and then sung one of them. These exercises