Come read my book good boys and girls
That live on freedom's ground,
With pleasant homes, and parents dear,
And blithesome playmates round;
And you will learn a woeful tale,
Which a good woman told,
About the poor black negro race,
How they are bought and sold.
Within our own America
Where these bad deeds are done,
A father and a mother lived
Who had a little son;
As slaves, they worked for two rich men,
Whose fields were fair and wide--
But Harry was their only joy,
They had no child beside.
Now Harry's hair was thick with curls
And softly bright his eyes,
And he could play such funny tricks
And look so wondrous wise,
[Illustration: THE SALE OF LITTLE HARRY.
Oh children dear, 'twas sad to hear,
That for the trader's gold,
To that hard-hearted evil man
Her own sweet boy was sold.]
That all about the rich man's house
Were pleased to see him play,
Till a wicked trader buying slaves
Came there one winter day.
The trader and the rich man sat
Together, at their wine,
When in poor simple Harry slipped
In hopes of something fine.
He shewed them how the dandy danced,
And how old Cudjoe walked,
Till loud they laughed and gave him grapes,
And then in whispers talked.
The young child knew not what they said,
But at the open door
Eliza, his poor mother, stood,
With heart all sick and sore.
Oh children dear, 'twas sad to hear,
That for the trader's gold,
To that hard-hearted evil man
Her own sweet boy was sold.
And he would take him far away,
To where the cotton grew,
And sell him for a slave to men
More hard and wicked too.
She knew that none would heed his woe,
His want, or sickness there,
Nor ever would she see his face,
Or hear his evening prayer.
So when the house was all asleep,
And when the stars were bright,
She took her Harry in her arms,
And fled through that cold night:--
Away through bitter frost and snow
Did that poor mother flee;
And how she fared, and what befell,
Read on, and you shall see.
Before setting out, Eliza took a piece of paper and a pencil, and wrote
hastily the following note to her kind mistress, who had tried in vain
to save little Harry from being sold:--
"Oh missus! dear missus! don't think me ungrateful; don't think hard of
me. I am going to try to save my boy; you will not blame me! God bless
and reward you for all your kindness!"
Hastily folding and directing this, she went to a drawer and made up a
little package of clothing for her boy, which she tied firmly round her
waist; and so fond is a mother's remembrance, that even in the terrors
of that hour she did not forget to put up in the little package one or
two of his favourite toys.
On the bed lay her slumbering boy, his long curls falling negligently
around his unconscious face, his rosy mouth half open, his little fat
hands thrown out over the bed-clothes, and a smile spread like a sunbeam
over his whole face. "Poor boy! poor fellow!" said Eliza, "they have
sold you, but your mother will save you yet."
It was some trouble to arouse the little sleeper; but after some effort
he sat up, and began playing with his wooden bird, while his mother was
putting on her bonnet and shawl.
"Where are you going, mother?" said he, as she drew near the bed with
his little coat and cap.
His mother drew near, and looked so earnestly into his eyes, that he at
once divined that something unusual was the matter.
"Hush, Harry," she said; "mustn't speak loud, or they will hear us. A
wicked man was coming to take little Harry away from his mother, and
carry him 'way off in the dark; but mother won't let him--she's going to
put on her little boy's cap and coat, and run off with him, so the ugly
man can't catch him."
Saying these words, she had tied and buttoned on the child's simple
outfit, and taking him in her arms, she whispered to him to be very
still; and, opening the door, she glided noiselessly out.
It was a sparkling, frosty, starlight night, and the mother wrapped the
shawl close round her child, as, perfectly quiet with terror, he clung
round her neck.
At first the novelty and alarm kept him waking; but after they had gone
a considerable way, poor Harry said, as he found himself sinking to
sleep--
"Mother I don't need to keep awake, do I?"
"No, my darling; sleep now, if you want to."
"But, mother, if I do get asleep, you won't let him get me?"
"No! so may God help me!" said his mother with a paler cheek, and a
brighter light in her large dark eyes.
"You're _sure_, an't you, mother?"
"Yes, _sure_!" said the mother, in a voice that startled herself; for it
seemed to her to come from a spirit within, that was no part of her; and
the boy dropped his little weary head on her shoulder, and was soon
asleep.
When morning came, as poor Harry complained of hunger and thirst, she
sat down behind a large rock, which hid them from the road, and gave him
a breakfast out of her little package. The boy wondered and grieved that
she could not eat, and when putting his arms round her neck he tried to
force some of his cake into her mouth, it seemed to her that the rising
in her throat would choke her.
"No, no, Harry, darling! mother can't eat till you are safe! We must go
on--on--till we come to the river." And she hurried again into the road
and proceeded on her journey.
When the trader came to take away Harry, he was in a great rage, because
neither the boy nor his mother could be found. The master who sold him
was also very angry, and ordered two of his negroes, called Andy and
Sam, to bring out two of the swiftest horses, and help the trader to
pursue Eliza, and take Harry from her. Andy and Sam did not like that
work, but being slaves, they dare not disobey. However, they did what
they could to detain the trader; for, pretending to be in great haste,
they squalled for this and that, and frightened the horses, till they
ran off over hedges and ditches, with Andy and Sam after them, laughing
till their sides ached as soon as they got out of sight. The trader all
the while stood cursing and swearing, like a wicked man as he was.
When the horses were caught, they were so tired with their race, that he
was fain to let them stay and rest till dinner-time. But when
dinner-time came, Chloe the cook, of whom you will hear more in the
course of the story, spilled one dish, kept another long in baking; and
so the trader did not get his dinner till it was late in the afternoon.
The horses were brought out at last, and he set off with Sam and Andy in
pursuit of poor Harry and his mother. They had gone a great way by this
time, and Eliza's feet were sore with walking all the night and day, and
Harry was ready to lie down and sleep on the snow. As the sun was
setting, they came in sight of the great river Ohio. There was no bridge
over it. People crossed in boats in the summer time, and in winter on
the thick ice, with which it was always covered. Now it was the month of
February. The ice had broken, because spring was near. The river was
swollen over all its banks, and no boatman would venture on it. There
was a little inn hard by, and there poor Eliza hoped to get a little
rest for herself and Harry, who was now fast asleep in her arms. She had
just sat down by the fire, when, who should ride into the yard but the
trader and his guides. The swift horses had brought them much quicker
than she and Harry could walk, but the weary mother would not lose her
child. She darted out with him that moment, and the verses will tell you
by what means she escaped.