The Freedmen's Book. Lydia Maria Child

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СКАЧАТЬ this very affecting passage: 'Consider how great a part of our species, in all ages, down to this, have been trodden under the feet of cruel and capricious tyrants, who would neither hear their cries nor pity their distresses. Consider Slavery, what a bitter draught it is, and how many millions are made to drink of it.'

      "I am sure you will forgive me if I beseech you to give some attention to Slavery, as it is practised at this day in the West Indies. That subject, handled in your striking manner, would perhaps ease the yoke of many; but if only of one, what a feast for a benevolent heart! and sure I am, you are an Epicurean[1] in acts of charity. You, who are universally read and as universally admired, could not fail. Dear sir, think that in me you behold the uplifted hands of thousands of my brother Moors. You pathetically observe that grief is eloquent. Figure to yourself their attitudes, hear their supplications, and you cannot refuse."

      Mr. Sterne wrote the following reply:—

      "July 27th, 1766.

      "There is a strange coincidence, Sancho, in the little events of this world, as well as the great ones. I had been writing a tender tale of the sorrows of a poor, friendless negro girl, and my eyes had scarce done smarting with it, when your letter, in behalf of so many of her brethren and sisters, came to me. But why her brethren or your brethren, Sancho, any more than mine? It is by the finest tints, and the most insensible gradations, that nature descends from the fairest face to the sootiest complexion. At which of these tints are the ties of blood to cease? and how many shades lower in the scale must we descend, ere mercy is to vanish with them?

      "It is no uncommon thing, my good Sancho, for one half of the world to use the other half like brutes, and then endeavor to make them so. For my part, I never look Westward, when I am in a pensive mood, without thinking of the burdens our brothers and sisters are there carrying. If I could ease their shoulders from one ounce of them, I declare I would this hour set out upon a pilgrimage to Mecca for their sakes. It casts a sad shade upon the world, that so great a part of it are, and have so long been, bound in chains of darkness and chains of misery. I cannot but respect you and felicitate you, that by so much laudable diligence you have broken the chains of darkness, and that by falling into the hands of so good and merciful a family, you have been rescued by Providence from the chains of misery.

      "And so, good-hearted Sancho, adieu. Believe me, I will not forget your letter.

      "Yours,

       "Laurence Sterne."

      The last sickness of Ignatius Sancho was very painful, but he was tenderly cared for by his good wife. He was fifty-two years old when he died. After his death, a small volume was published, containing a number of his letters, some articles he had written for newspapers, and an engraved likeness of him, which looks very bright and good-natured. The book was published by subscription, in which a large number of the English nobility and some distinguished literary men joined.

EXTRACT FROM THE TENTH PSALM.

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      "The wicked in his pride doth persecute the poor. He hath said in his heart, God hath forgotten; He hideth his face; He will never see it. Thou hast seen it; for thou beholdest mischief and spite, to requite it with thy hand. The poor committeth himself unto thee; thou art the helper of the fatherless. Lord, thou hast heard the desire of the humble. Thou wilt cause thine ear to hear; thou wilt prepare their heart to judge the fatherless and the oppressed, that the man of the earth may no more oppress."

PREJUDICE REPROVED.

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      BY LYDIA H. SIGOURNEY.

      God gave to Afric's sons

       A brow of sable dye;

       And spread the country of their birth

       Beneath a burning sky.

      With a cheek of olive He made

       The little Hindoo child;

       And darkly stained the forest tribes,

       That roam our Western wild.

      To me He gave a form

       Of fairer, whiter clay;

       But am I, therefore, in his sight,

       Respected more than they?

      No;—'tis the hue of deeds and thoughts He traces in his book; 'Tis the complexion of the heart On which He deigns to look.

      Not by the tinted cheek,

       That fades away so fast,

       But by the color of the soul, We shall be judged at last.

BENJAMIN BANNEKER.

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      BY L. MARIA CHILD.

      This remarkable man was born near the village of Ellicott's Mills, Baltimore County, Maryland, in 1732. That was one hundred and thirty-three years ago, when there were very few schools and very few books in this country, and when it was not as easy as it now is for even white people to obtain a tolerably good education. His parents were both black, and though they were free, they were too poor to do much for their bright boy. They sent him to a school in the neighborhood, where he learned reading and writing and a little of arithmetic.

      His father was a slave at the time of his marriage, but his wife was a free woman; and she was so energetic and industrious, that she soon earned money enough to buy his freedom. Then they worked together, and earned enough to buy a few acres of land, and build a small cabin.

      Benjamin was obliged to labor diligently when he was at home from school, but every spare moment he could catch he was ciphering, and planning how to make things. As his parents grew old, he had to work early and late, to support himself and help them. His mother always continued active enough to do the in-door work. When she was seventy years old, if she wanted to catch a chicken she would run it down without appearing to be tired. The place was thinly peopled, and the few neighbors they had took no particular notice of Benjamin, though he had the name of being a bright, industrious lad. His hands worked hard, but his brain was always busy. He was particularly fond of arithmetic, and was always working out sums in his head. He took notice of everything around him, observed how everything was made, and never forgot one word of what he had learned at school. In this way, he came to have more knowledge than most of his white neighbors; and they began to say to one another, "That black Ben is a smart fellow. He can make anything he sets out to; and how much he knows! I wonder where he picked it all up."

      At thirty years old, he made a clock, which proved an excellent timepiece. He had never seen a clock, for nobody in that region had such an article; but he had seen a watch, and it occupied his thoughts very much. It seemed to him such a curious little machine, that he was very desirous to make something like it. The watch was made of gold and silver and steel; but Benjamin Banneker had only wood СКАЧАТЬ