Captain Canot by Brantz Mayer

When I was once comfortably installed at my motley establishment, and, under the management of Colonists, had initiated the native workmen into tolerable skill with the adze, saw, sledgehammer and forge, I undertook to build a brig of one hundred tons. In six months, people came from far and near to behold the mechanical marvels of Cape Mount. Meanwhile, my plantation went on slowly, while my _garden_ became a matter of curiosity to all the intelligent coasters and cruisers, though I could never enlighten the natives as to the value of the "foreign grass" which I cultivated so diligently. They admired the symmetry of my beds, the richness of my pine-apples, the luxurious splendor of my sugar-cane, the abundance of my coffee, and the cool fragrance of the arbors with which I adorned the lawn; but they would never admit the use of my exotic vegetables.

In order to water my premises, I turned the channel of a brook, surrounding the garden with a perfect canal; and, as its sides were completely laced with an elaborate wicker-work of willows, the aged king and crowds of his followers came to look upon the Samsonian task as one of the wonders of Africa. "What is it," exclaimed Fana-Toro, as he beheld the deflected water-course, "that a white man cannot do! " After this, his majesty inspected all my plants, and shouted again with surprise at the toil we underwent to satisfy our appetites. The use or worth of _flowers_, of which I had a rare and beautiful supply, he could never divine; but his chief amazement was still devoted to our daily expenditure of time, strength, and systematic toil, when rice and palm-oil would grow wild while we were sleeping!