A Childs Anti-Slavery Book | Page 9

about readin'?" asked Lewis.
"Well, I can't say as I'd like to sell it, but it would only be a plague to you so long as you belong to Massa Stamford."
By dint of coaxing, however, Lewis succeeded in getting him to teach him the letters, taking the opportunity to go to him rainy nights, or when Mr. Stamford was away from home. That was the end of Sam's help. He had an "idea in his head" that it was not good policy for him to do this without Massa Stamford's consent, after what Mr. Pond had said about Lewis's coming to Sunday school. Sam was a cautious negro, not so warm-hearted and impulsive as the most of his race. He prided himself on being more like white folks.
Lewis was soon in trouble of another sort. He had found an old spelling-book, and Sam had shown him that the letters he had learned were to be put together to make words. Then, too, he managed to get a little time to himself every morning, by rising very early. So far so good, and his diligence was deserving of success, but the progress he made was very discouraging. C-a-n spelled sane, n-o-t spelled note, and g-o spelled jo. "I sane note jo;" what nonsense! and there was no one that could explain the matter intelligently. He perseveres bravely for a while, finding now and then a word that he could understand; but at last his book was gone from its hiding place; he knew not where to get another; and in short he was pretty much discouraged. These difficulties had cooled his ardor much more than the whip had done, and by degrees he settled down into a state of despondency and indifference that Mr. Stamford would have considered a matter of the deepest regret, had it befallen one of his own children.
Years passed on--long, dreary, cheerless years. Lewis was now a boy of seventeen, rather intelligent in appearance, but melancholy, and not very hearty. In spite of repeated thinnings out by sales at different times to the traders, the number of Mr. Stamford's slaves had greatly increased, and now the time came when they must all be disposed of. He had accepted a call from a distant village, and must necessarily break up his farming establishment.
It was a sad sight to see these poor people, who had lived together so long, put up at auction and bid off to persons that had come from many different places. Here goes the father of a family in one direction, the mother in another, and the children all scattered hither and thither. And then it was heartrending to witness their brief partings. Bad as had been their lot with Mr. Stamford, they would far sooner stay with him than be separated from those of their fellow-slaves whom they loved.
A lot at a time were put up in a row, and one after another was called upon the block, and after a few bids was handed over to a new master, to be taken wherever he might choose.
Ned and Jim and Lewis stood side by side in one of those rows. Ned had grown up to be a fine sprightly lad, and the bidding for him was lively. He was struck down to a Southern trader. Lewis listened despondently while the bidding for Jim was going on, expecting every moment to hear his own name called, when suddenly a strong hand was laid upon his shoulder from behind, and he was drawn from the row. After a thorough examination by a strange gentleman, in company with his master, he was bid to step aside. From some words that he heard pass between them, he understood that he had been sold at private sale, bartered off for a pair of carriage-horses.
The animals, a pair of handsome bays, were standing near by, and he turned to look at them. "Suppose they were black," said he to himself, "would they be any meaner, less powerful, less valuable, less spirited? I do not see that color makes much difference with animals, why should it make so much difference among men? Who made the white men masters over us?" He thought long and deeply, but there came no answer.
"Then, too, they are larger than I am, and there are two of them! What makes the difference that I should be higher priced? Ah, I have a mind, and it's my mind that they have sold," he added, with a sudden gleam of thought. "And what have I of my own? Nothing! They buy, and sell, and control soul and mind and body."
Lewis had yet to learn that even the poor slave may with all his soul believe on Jesus, and no master on earth could hinder him. Mr. Stamford had never