A Childs Anti-Slavery Book | Page 5

Lewis:
THE SLAVE BOY'S WISH.
I wish I was that little bird,
Up in the bright blue sky,
That sings
and flies just where he will,
And no one asks him why.
I wish I was that little brook,
That runs so swift along,
Through
pretty flowers and shining stones,
Singing a merry song.
I wish I was that butterfly,
Without a thought or care,
Sporting my
pretty, brilliant wings,
Like a flower in the air.

I wish I was that wild, wild deer,
I saw the other day,
Who swifter
than an arrow flew,
Through the forest far away.
I wish I was that little cloud,
By the gentle south wind driven,

Floating along so free and bright,
Far, far up into heaven.
I'd rather be a cunning fox,
And hide me in a cave;
I'd rather be a
savage wolf,
Than what I am--a slave.
My mother calls me her good boy,
My father calls me brave;
What
wicked action have I done,
That I should be a slave?
I saw my little sister sold,
So will they do to me;
My heavenly
Father, let me die,
For then I shall be free.
So talking to himself he fell into a doze, and dreamed about his mother.
He thought her large serious eyes were looking into his, and her long
black hair falling over his face. His mother was part Indian and part
white, with only just enough of the black to make her hair a little curly.
It don't make much difference what color people are in the slave states.
If the mothers are slaves the children are slaves too, even if they are
nine-tenths white.
From this pleasant dream Lewis was roused by a splash of cold water,
and Aunt Sally, with her head out of the window, was calling, "Here
you lazy nigger! come here and grind this coffee for me." And the little
boy awoke to find himself a friendless orphan, in a cold world with a
cruel master.
The next morning Lewis was playing about the yard with as good a will
as any of the young negroes. Children's troubles don't last long, and to
see him turning somersets, singing Jim Crow, and kicking up a row
generally, you would suppose he had forgotten all about the lost primer
and his mother too.
He was in the greatest possible glee in the afternoon, at being sent with
another boy, Jim, to carry a package to Mr. Pond's. Then he was trusted,

so he put himself on his dignity, and did not turn more than twenty
somersets on the way. In coming back, as they had no package to carry,
they took it into their heads to cut across lots, though it was no nearer
than the road. Still it made them plenty of exercise in climbing fences
and walking log bridges across the brooks. While doing this they came
in sight of some white pond-lilies, and all at once it occurred to Lewis
that it would be right nice to get some of them for Miss Katy, to buy up
her good-will, for he was afraid she would be very angry when she
found that he had lost the primer. So he waded and paddled about till
he had collected quite a handful of them, in spite of Jim's hurrying up,
and telling him that he would get his head broke, for missus had told
them to be quick.
When he had gathered a large handful he started on the run for home,
stopping only once or twice to admire the fragrant, lovely flowers; and
he felt their beauty quite as much, I dare say, as Miss Katy would.
When they were passing the quarters, as the place is called where the
huts of the slaves are built, Aunt Sally put her head out of the cabin
door, and seeing him, she called out, "Here, Lew, here's your mother."
The boy forgot his lilies, dropped them, and running to the door, he saw
within a strange woman sitting on a bench. Was that his mother? She
turned her large dark eyes for a moment upon him, and then she sprang
to meet him. His little heart was ready to overflow with tears of joy,
and he expected to be overwhelmed with caresses, just as you would if
you should meet your mother after being separated from her more than
a year.
Imagine his terror, then, as she seized him rudely by the wrists and
exclaimed, "It's you, is it? a little slave boy! I'll fix you so they'll never
get you!"
Then she picked him up in her arms and started to run with him, as if
she would throw him into the well. The little fellow screamed with
fright. Aunt Sally ran after her, crying at the top of her voice, "Nancy,
O Nancy! don't now!" And then a big negro darted out of the stables,
crying "Stop