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Table of Contents | |
Section | Page |
Start of eBook | 1 |
Title: The Anti-Slavery Alphabet | 1 |
TO OUR LITTLE READERS. | 1 |
B | 1 |
C | 1 |
E | 1 |
G | 2 |
I | 2 |
K | 2 |
L | 2 |
N | 2 |
P | 2 |
R | 2 |
T | 2 |
V | 3 |
X | 3 |
Z | 3 |
Author: Anonymous
Release Date: June 17, 2005 [EBook #16081]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
*** Start of this project gutenberg EBOOK the anti-slavery alphabet ***
Produced by Jason Isbell and the Online Distributed Proofreaders Team at http://www.pgdp.net, with special thanks to K.D. Thornton for cleaning up the illustrations.
The
anti-slavery
alphabet.
* * * * *
“In the morning sow thy seed.”
* * * * *
Philadelphia:
Printed for the anti-slavery
fair.
1847.
Merrihew & Thompson, Printers, 7 Carter’s alley.
Listen, little children, all,
Listen to our earnest call:
You are very young, ’tis true,
But there’s much that you can do.
Even you can plead with men
That they buy not slaves again,
And that those they have may be
Quickly set at liberty.
They may hearken what you say,
Though from us they turn away.
Sometimes, when from school you walk,
You can with your playmates talk,
Tell them of the slave child’s fate,
Motherless and desolate.
And you can refuse to take
Candy, sweetmeat, pie or cake,
Saying “no”—unless ’tis free—
“The slave shall not work for me.”
Thus, dear little children, each
May some useful lesson teach;
Thus each one may help to free
This fair land from slavery.
A
A is an Abolitionist—
A man who wants
to free
The wretched slave—and
give to all
An equal liberty.
B is a Brother with a skin
Of somewhat darker
hue,
But in our Heavenly Father’s
sight,
He is as dear
as you.
C is the Cotton-field, to
which
This injured brother’s
driven,
When, as the white-man’s
slave, he toils,
From early morn
till even.
D
D is the Driver, cold and
stern,
Who follows, whip
in hand,
To punish those who dare to
rest,
Or disobey command.
E is the Eagle, soaring high;
An emblem of the
free;
But while we chain our brother
man,
Our type
he cannot be.
F
F is the heart-sick Fugitive,
The slave who
runs away,
And travels through the dreary
night,
But hides himself
by day.
G is the Gong, whose rolling
sound,
Before the morning
light,
Calls up the little sleeping
slave,
To labor until
night.
H
H is the Hound his master
trained,
And called to
scent the track
Of the unhappy Fugitive,
And bring him
trembling back.
I is the Infant, from the
arms
Of its fond mother
torn,
And, at a public auction,
sold
With horses, cows,
and corn.
J
J is the Jail, upon whose
floor
That wretched
mother lay,
Until her cruel master came,
And carried her
away.
K is the Kidnapper, who stole
That little child
and mother—
Shrieking, it clung around
her, but
He tore them from
each other.
L is the Lash, that brutally
He swung around
its head,
Threatening that “if
it cried again,
He’d whip
it till ’twas dead.”
M
M is the Merchant of the north,
Who buys what
slaves produce—
So they are stolen, whipped
and worked,
For his, and for
our use.
N is the Negro, rambling free
In his far distant
home,
Delighting ‘neath the
palm trees’ shade
And cocoa-nut
to roam.
O
O is the Orange tree, that
bloomed
Beside his cabin
door,
When white men stole him from
his home
To see it never
more.
P is the Parent, sorrowing,
And weeping all
alone—
The child he loved to lean
upon,
His only son,
is gone!
Q
Q is the Quarter, where the
slave
On coarsest food
is fed,
And where, with toil and sorrow
worn,
He seeks his wretched
bed.
R is the “Rice-swamp,
dank and lone,”
Where, weary,
day by day,
He labors till the fever wastes
His strength and
life away.
S
S is the Sugar, that the slave
Is toiling hard
to make,
To put into your pie and tea,
Your candy, and
your cake.
T is the rank Tobacco plant,
Raised by slave
labor too:
A poisonous and nasty thing,
For gentlemen
to chew.
U
U is for Upper Canada,
Where the poor
slave has found
Rest after all his wanderings,
For it is British
ground!
V is the Vessel, in whose
dark,
Noisome, and stifling
hold,
Hundreds of Africans are packed,
Brought o’er
the seas, and sold.
W
W is the Whipping post,
To which the slave
is bound,
While on his naked back, the
lash
Makes many a bleeding
wound.
X is for Xerxes, famed of
yore;
A warrior stern
was he
He fought with swords;
let truth and love
Our only
weapons be.
Y
Y is for Youth—the
time for all
Bravely to war
with sin;
And think not it can ever
be
Too early to begin.
Z is a Zealous man, sincere,
Faithful, and
just, and true;
An earnest pleader for the
slave—
Will you not be
so too?