A Child's Anti-Slavery Book Part 7

"Why, how you talk, sis! _Not come_, indeed! Humph! I hope she _will_, then. This little snow wouldn't hurt me, so it wouldn't hurt her," said the impetuous Alfred.

"You must remember, my son, that Judy is old and infirm, and subject, as she says, to a 'touch of the rheumatiz.' But I am sorry that she has not come to-night. She may be sick; I think I will call down and see her to-morrow," said Mrs. Ford, drawing out the table and arranging the shade on the lamp, so that the light fell on the table and the faces of those around it. They were cheerful, happy faces, and everything around them wore the same look; and from the aspect of things, it seemed as if they were going to spend a pleasant and profitable evening.

"Dear papa, tell us a story with a poor slave in it, won't you? and I will give you as many kisses as you please," said Cornelia, twining her arms around her father's neck.

"No, no, papa, not about the slave, but the poor Indian, who has been far worse treated than the slave was or ever will be. Only to think of the white people coming here, plundering their villages, and building on their hunting grounds, just as if it belonged to them, when all the while it was the Indians'. Now, if they had bought it and paid for it, honorably, as William Penn did, it would have been a different thing; but they got it meanly, and I'm ashamed of them for it," said Alfred, his eyes flas.h.i.+ng and his cheeks glowing with indignation.

"All that you have said is true, my son, but the Indians were also guilty of great cruelty toward the white people," said Mr. Ford.

"But, papa, don't you think the Indians had good cause for their hatred to the whites?" asked Harry.

"Why, Harry, they had no reason sufficient to justify them in their cruel and vindictive course; but they did no more than was to be expected from an entirely barbarous nation, and I am sure they had no good example in the conduct of the white people, from whom much better behavior might have been expected."

"Well, papa, what were some of the wrongs that the Indians endured!"

"The Indians regarded the whites as intruders, and maddened by some acts of injustice and oppression committed by the early settlers, they conceived a deadly hatred, which the whites returned with equal intensity; and for each crime committed by either of them, the opposite party inflicted a retribution more terrible than the act which provoked it, and the Indian, being less powerful, but equally wicked, was the victim."

"Well, although I think the Indians were very wicked, I pity them, but I feel a great deal more for the poor slave," said little Cornelia.

"I think they were very cruel, sis, but I still think that they were very badly treated," said Alfred.

"There is no doubt of that," answered his father; "but, my son, when you began the argument you said that you thought the Indians were more deserving of compa.s.sion than the Africans. Now this is the difference.

The Indians were always a warlike and treacherous race; their most solemn compacts were broken as soon as their own purposes had been served. And they were continually hara.s.sing the settlers; indeed they have not ceased yet, for at the present time they are attacking and murdering the traders who cross the plains, if they are not well armed, and in sufficiently large companies to keep them in check. Now the Americans had never this cause of complaint against the Africans, for, although like all heathen, they were debased, and were cruel and warlike among each other, they never annoyed us in America. And the Americans had not, therefore, even this insufficient excuse for enslaving them.

The Indians were robbed of their lands, and driven from their homes; but the Africans not only lost their country, but were compelled to work in slavery, for men to whom they owed no allegiance, in a different climate, and with the ever-galling thought that they were once free. It argues well for their peaceable disposition, that they have not long ago revolted, and by a terrible ma.s.sacre shaken off their yoke as they did in St. Domingo. Now, which was the worst used in this case?"

"O! the slave, papa. I willingly surrender," said Alfred, laughing.

"Well, if you have finished, I move we go to bed, and thence to the land of dreams," said Mrs. Ford, rising and putting away her sewing.

It was unanimously agreed that this was the best plan, and, after giving thanks to G.o.d for his many mercies, they retired.

CHAPTER III.

"Good morning, father," said Alfred; "I have been thinking that I surrendered too soon last night; I did not bring out all my forces, because I forgot something I heard that old Baptist minister say when he was lecturing here a few days ago. He said that the Creek Indians would not send the poor fugitives back to their masters. It is true they made a treaty with our government to do so, but they had too much humanity to keep it; and for not doing so, the government withheld two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, which was due to the Indians for some lands, and used it to pay the masters. But that made little difference to them, for they still persisted in disobeying the 'Fugitive Slave Law.' Now don't you think _that_ was a good trait in their character?"

"Yes, Alfred, I do; they manifested a very generous and humane disposition."

"Well, but I think it was very dishonorable for them to break any treaty," said Harry.

"You see, Harry, there is where you and I differ. I think it a great deal better to break a bad promise than to keep it, answered Alfred.

"Come into breakfast, papa," said Cornelia, peeping her little curly head in at the door, "Mamma wants you to come right away, because she has to go to Judy's."

"Very well, we will go now, and not keep mother waiting. Just look at the snow! How it sparkles! Jack Frost has been here, for the windows are all covered and the water in the pitcher is frozen."

"Yes, papa, and see what funny shapes the icicles are in, and the trees and bushes look as if they had their white dresses on," said little Cornelia.

"It will be a splendid morning for a sleigh-ride. Would you like to take one, mother?" asked Harry, after their breakfast was over and family prayer ended.

"Yes, my son, I should; I have to go to Judy's this morning; so we can take the children to school first, and then pay my visit. I should like to have the sleigh at the door pretty early, as I have several places to go to after coming from Judy's."

"Very well, mother, you shall have it immediately. Now bundle sis up warm, for there is a cutting wind, and I think it looks like snowing again. And O! mother, I had nearly forgotten it, there was a poor Irish family coming off the boat last night, who seemed dest.i.tute of both clothing and food. If we have time this morning, won't you go and see them?"

"Perhaps I will," said his mother; and Harry ran off, but soon returned, calling, "Come, mother, the sleigh is waiting, and the horse looks as if he was in a hurry to be off."

"Yes, Harry, I am coming; I only went back to get a little milk for Judy; she is so weak that I think she needs it."

"O mother!" said Alfred as they drove along, "what is more enlivening than the merry jingling of the sleigh bells on a clear frosty day?"

"It is, indeed, very pleasant, Alfred; but while we are enjoying our pleasant winter evenings, and our many sleigh rides, the thought comes to our minds that however much we may like the winter time, there are hundreds in our city who think of its approach with fear and trembling, and who suffer much from cold and hunger, until the pleasant spring time comes again. But you were telling me, Henry, about those poor people, and I was too much occupied to attend to you. Do you know where they live?" asked Mrs. Ford.

"Yes, just along the bank, mother; it is a wretched-looking house, and very much exposed. Poor things! I pitied them very much; they appeared so dest.i.tute, and even the children had a care-worn look on their thin faces."

"What! in that old house, Harry?" exclaimed Alfred. "Why the windows have hardly any panes in them, and there are great holes in the walls."

"Yes, Ally, that is the place, and it is, as you say, a rickety old house; but I suppose it is the best they can get. But here we are at school, Ally; you get out first, and I will hand sissy out to you. Take hold of her hand, for the path is slippery."

The children alighted, and then Harry and his mother, after a pleasant ride round the city, drove up to Aunt Judy's cottage.

"O Miss Ford! am dat you? Now who'd a thought on't? I'se sure you's de best woman I ever see'd; now jist tell me what you c.u.m'd out on sich a day as dis for!" asked old Judy as Mrs. Ford entered the cottage. As for Harry, he drove the horse hack to the stable until noon, when he was to call for his mother on his way from school with Ally and Cornelia.

"Why, Judy, we came to see you; I thought that if you were sick, I could perhaps comfort you."

"Wal, I _has_ been sick wid de rheumatiz. O marcy! I'se had sich orful pains all through me, and dats de reason I didn't c.u.m last night. But, bless us! honey, here I'se been standing telling you all my pains and aches, and letting you stand in your wet feet; now come to de fire, my child."

"My feet are not wet, Auntie, only a little cold. Harry brought me around in the sleigh, and we were well wrapped up. Now, Judy, here are a few things for you, some tea and sugar, a loaf of bread, and a bit of bacon."

"Thanks, Missy Ford, I'se so glad to see a little tea; it's so long since I tasted any. And a bit of bacon too! Wal, now I _will_ have a dinner!"

"Do not wait till dinner time, Judy; I want you to make a cup of tea now, and rouse yourself up, and try to recollect all that has pa.s.sed and happened to you since your childhood, for I promised the children that I would tell them your history."

"Yes, missy, I'll try," said Judy, taking her little cracked earthen teapot, and making her tea.

After it was made, and Judy was refreshed with a good breakfast, she began and told Mrs. Ford the history of her sorrows and troubles, which we will let Mrs. Ford tell to the children herself. It was quite a long narrative.

CHAPTER IV.

Judy had just finished speaking when they were interrupted by the entrance of Harry, who had returned for his mother. Judy followed them to the sleigh, for she said she "must c.u.m out and see de chil'en, spite of her rheumatiz."

"Auntie," said little Cornelia, "have my little banty's eggs hatched yet?" Cornelia had sent the little banty and her eggs to aunt Judy, that the chickens might be hatched under her care.