Literary Notices
Pictures and Stories from Uncle Tom's Cabin.
Minnie May, with other Rhymes and Stories.
The Edinburgh Doll, and other Tales for Children.
Grandmother's Stories for Little Children. Boston: J. P. Jewett &
Co.
We call especial attention to the above-named Anti-Slavery Stories
for children, recently issued by those enterprizing Publishers,
Messrs. Jewett & Co., advertisements of which appear in our columns.
The first-named little work, which comprizes a series of "PICTURES AND
STORIES FROM UNCLE TOM'S CABIN," is
designed, by the authoress, to adapt Mrs. Stowe's touching Narrative
to the understanding of the youngest readers, and to foster in their
hearts a generous sympathy for the wronged Negro Race of America. The
verses are just the thing for children of five, six, seven and eight
years old. They are printed in large type, and interspersed with
pretty pictures, and prose narrations. The book is beautifully got
up, and will prove a charming treasure to every child, who is so
fortunate as to have a good Mamma, or Papa, or kind friend to buy it a
copy.
Listen, young friends, and we will tell you, from this pretty
book, about the dear, bright eyed little boy, named
HARRY, and his poor mother.
THE SALE OF LITTLE HARRY.
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,
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.
And 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.
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