Thy fate is fixed. Oh, am I guilty of the blood
of thy soul, my poor dear Sehamy? If so, how shall I look
upon thee in the judgment? But I told thee of a Saviour;
didst thou think of Him, and did He lead thee through the
dark valley? Did He comfort as He only can? Help me, O Lord
Jesus, to be faithful to every one. Remember me, and let me
not be guilty of the blood of souls. This poor young man was
the leader of the party. He governed the others, and most
attentive he was to me. He anticipated my every want. He kept
the water-calabash at his head at night, and if I awoke, he
was ready to give me a draught immediately. When the meat was
boiled he secured the best portion for me, the best place for
sleeping, the best of everything. Oh, where is he now? He
became ill after leaving a certain tribe, and believed he had
been poisoned. Another of the party and he ate of a certain
dish given them by a woman whom they had displeased, and
having met this man yesterday he said, 'Sehamy is gone to
heaven, and I am almost dead by the poison given us by that
woman.
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