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Issues of justice affect everyone – and children are no different. In the early nineteenth century, abolitionists worked to encourage young people to join the fight against slavery and the injustices against black people in America. One way in which they did this was through a children’s magazine entitled Slave’s Friend. This periodical was filled with anti-slavery rhetoric, featuring poems, prayers, short stories, and brief general news for children to read. The magazine was created by the American Anti-Slavery Society in 1835 (the first edition getting published in 1836) where they raised $30,000 to create a series of publications to spread the anti-slavery message across America. The magazine was offered through both subscription and for free via mail and reached high levels of circulation with an average of about 10,000 copies per issue. While the main objective of the magazine was to encourage a new generation of abolitionists, it also contained general lessons that many children’s stories focus on like “the golden rule” or respecting one’s parents, which aligns with their target audience of six to twelve year olds. The magazine advocated for nonviolent approaches to abolition and promoted the equal treatment of black people among both white and black children. Not only did this magazine share stories (fictional and factual), but it also inspired action by instructing children to boycott certain slave-made food products, spreading the word through the innocent mouths of the youth. These are only a few of the numerous things this publication encouraged throughout its thirty-eight issues.

In this edition I decided to cover all the poems and plays from a selection of editions – primarily the first twelve. I decided to do these two formats as I believed they were the most interesting. Children are often told stories and fables to teach them moral lessons, but by communicating these messages through differing formats creates a different impact upon the children reading them. Provided with more time, I would have attempted to transcribe the entire editions to have a fully accessible version of these underrepresented texts available for researchers and intellectuals, however I transcribed the most I could with the given time. In future I hope to continue working on this project, adding to the pages more than just the poems and plays, adding images of the given text, creating more annotations, and making the website more user friendly by adding a navigation bar, index, etc. There is still much work to do on this project, however, I believe this edition paints a fair picture on the content of The Slave’s Friend as it exists in its current form.

1. The Slave's Friend No.I


[Page 2]

1.1. Selling Slaves By the Pound

Charles.

Did you ever know, Papa, that slaves were sold by the pound before Mr. Birney wrote that letter?

Papa.

Certainly I did. Did you never hear that before?

Charles.

What, sell boys and girls, like Julia and me, as they do pigs and fish! Is it so, father? Tell us.

Papa.

It is indeed true, my son. If you will look into Mr. Bourne's book,Picture of Slavery, you will see some slaves weighing a little girl in a pair of scales.

Charles.

How much will she weigh?

Papa.

I suppose about fifty pounds.

Charles.

How much do they get a pound for the poor slaves?

Papa.

Four dollars, and sometimes five: If that little girl weighted fifty pounds, and her master got four dollars a pound for her, she was sold for two hundred dollars.

Charles.

Ah! That's the reason they dont want to emancipate the slaves; they get so much money by selling them: Isn't it so, father?

Picture of Slavery was a book written by George Bourne which was seen as a book from 1834 which was perceived as radical for its demands for “immediate, unconditional, and universal emancipation” without compensation for slave owners. Bourne was a firm believer in abolition, believing it was ungodly to hold slaves and that it was the stealing of men and women that was unforgivable. He used his religious background to predicate many of his beliefs regarding slavery and appealed to the religious zealots by using biblical verses and language to raise spirits for abolitionists.

1.2. The Thankful Child

I thank the goodness and the grace
Which on my birth have smiled,
And made me in my early days
A happy free-born child.
I was not born a little slave
To labor in the sun,
And wish that I were in the grave,
And all my labor done.
My God I thank thee who hast planned
A better lot for me,
And placed me in this happy land,
Where I may hear of Thee

2. A Slave's Friend No. 2


2.1. The Apple and the Chestnut

A white man, whose name was Lorenzo, once teased a poor colored man, whose name was Mungo.
Lorenzo.

Here, Mungo, said he, look at this apple, and then look at that chestnut.

Mungo.

I do Massa; I see them.

Lorenzo.

Well, this apple is the white man, and that chestnut is the negro.

Mungo.

O, Massa, what you say is true. The chestnut has a dark skin, just like poor black man. But its kernelis all white, and sweet. The apple, though it looks so pretty, has many little black grains at the heart.

Now little boys and girls can't be abolitionists until they get rid of all these black grains in their hearts. And they can't be good while they have such wicked eharts. Jesus will not love them who hate the poor negro, or hate God.

2.2. How Children Become Slaves.

John.

Mother, I like that hymn, "I was not born a little slave," but do you think those little boys in my Slave's Friend were born slaves?

Mother.

Probably they were, my dear.

John.

But why are these little boys slaves more than I?

Mother.

They are black.

John.

Black! well, I wonder what color my skin is.

Mother.

It is called white.

John.

O that is the reason they are slaves; jsut because they are black. I do not want all black boys to be slaves.

Mother.

All are not slaves.

John.

But, mother, were the slaves always born slaves?

Mother.

No: in the first place they were stolen.

John.

O dear, dear, I thought it was very wicked to steal even a pin, and do they steal children? Where do they get them, an how? Do tell me, mother.

Mother.

From Africa. I will tell you a story about three children that were stolen.

John.

O do mother, and I will be a good boy, and sit very still.

Mother.

These three children lived with their father and mother, in Africa, about a mile from the sea side. They were as free as the little birds whose voices they heard from the topmost boughs of cocoa treel they loved dearly to run in the woods, chase butterflies, gather wild flowers, and dress themselves with the palm leafs. One day their mother sent them to get some yams, (like our potatoes;) they took their baskets and went, little thinking they were to see their parents no more. As they were digging yams, the youngest boy looked up and said, "O sister, what is that?" She replied, "I do not know," for she had never seen a white man before. The men showed them beads and other trinkets. while the children were looking at them, these men-thieves came behind them and stuck plasters over tehir mouths. Then they caught them up and ran with them to the boat, that soon took them to the horrid slave ship.

John.

O how very wicked, but could not the children cry?

Mother.

No, because their mouths were covered with the plasters.

John.

Mother, I did not think it possible for any one to be so cruel?

Mother.

Yes, my son, the love of money makes men so. Do you remember that good Mary Ann who used to live with us?

John.

Yes indeed I do.

Mother.

Well, one of these boys was her father. How much he suffered in the slave ship, and after he got to America, I must tell you some other time.

This hymn was published in a pamphlet similar to The Slave’s Friend entitled Hymns for Children which was a small leaflet compendium of select poems to educate children and raise abolition efforts. The hymn mentioned in this section is the first in the pamphlet actually entitled “A child’s hymn of praise” reading: I thank the goodness and the grace / which on my birth have smil’d, / and made me in these Christian days, / A free and happy child. / I was not born, as thousands are, / Where God was never known; / And taught to pray a useless prayer / To blocks of wood and stone. / I was not born a little slave, / To labour in the sun, / And wish I were but in the grave / And all my labour done! / I was not born without a home, / Or in some broken shed; / A gipsy baby, taught to roam, / And steal my daily bread. / My God, I thank thee, who has plann’d / A better lot for me, / And plac’d me in this happy land, / And where I hear of thee.” For multiple centuries black bodies were carried from the western coast of Africa to numerous European countries and America. They were piled into slave ships with virtually no regard for their well-being or their survivability, sometimes casting black people overboard to “make room” or to save resources. There were many ways in which enslaved peoples were stolen from their land by both Europeans and African traders, oftentimes with Europeans offering to sell goods like textiles, weaponry, iron, etc. for slaves that they could later sell when returning to America or other European colonies.

2.3. The Negro Boy's Petition

There is a book, I’ve heard them say,
Which says 'Thou shalt not work nor play,
On God Almighty’s holy day.
On Sundays, then, oh! let me look
In God Almighty's holy book!
This book, to which you oft appeal,
Does thus the will of God reveal;
Thou shalt not murder, lie, nor steal.
Then let your little negro look
In God Almighty's holy book!
Dear master, you have been to me
As good and kind as man can be,
And many such with joy I see:
Then let your little slave boy look
In God Almighty's holy book!
The stripes, 'tis said, that Jesus bore,
Could I but read his sufferings sore,
Would make mine lighter than before:
Yes, every sorrow I could brook,
By studying God Almighty's book!
I'm told, this book so wise and good,
Has made it fully understood,
God made all nations of one blood.
If this be true, I then may meet
My master at my Saviour's feet.
Enslaved people often turned to religion as a form of escapism from the horrors they witnessed in their day to day lives. Despite their turmoil, many black people in the United States were devoutly religious and saw Christianity as a source of hope and enlightenment. During the 1830s and onward there was a large movement for more religious instruction and teaching given to slaves. This movement was forged by white, religious slave owners because, according to the clergy, the Bible instructed them that it was their duty to spread the word of the Lord to save them from “powerful temptations.” It is also said that this was necessary because slaves had souls and therefore could be subject to eternal damnation in the Christian view if they were not devout and faithful Christians which is interesting to note due to the abhorrent treatment from enslavers towards African Americans during this time.

3. A Slave's Friend No. 3


3.1. THE POOR MOTHER

"HELP! oh, help! thou God of Christians
Save a mother from despair;
Cruel white-men steal my-children,
God of Christians! hear my prayer.
From my arms by force they're rended,
Sailors drag them to the sea-
Yonder ship at anchor riding,
Swift will carry them away.
There my son lies pale and bleeding;
Fast with cords his hands are bound;
See the tyrants, how they scourge him;
See his sides a reeking wound.
See his little sister by him,
Quaking, trembling, how she lies!
Drops of blood her face besprinkle-
Tears of anguish fill her eyes.
Now they tear her brother from her;
Down below the deck he's thrown:
Stiff with beating--through fear silent,
Save a single, death-like groan.
Hear the little daughter begging,
"Take me, white men, for your own;
Spare! Oh, spare my darling brother!
He's my mother's only son.
"See upon the shore she's raving:
Down she falls upon the sands-
Now she tears her flesh with madness,
Now she prays with lifted hands.
"I am young, and strong, and hardy:
He's a sick and feeble boy-
Take me, whip me, chain me, starve me,
All my life I’ll toil with joy.
"Christians, who's the God you worship?
Is he cruel, fierce, or good?
Does he take delight in mercy,
Or in spilling human blood?
"Ah! my poor distracted mother!
Hear her scream upon the shore."
Down the savage captain struck her,
Lifeless on the vessel's floor.
Up his sails he quickly hoisted,
To the ocean bent his way;
Headlong plung'd the raving mother,
From a rock into the sea.

3.2. Henry Scott.

Elizabeth.

Did you ever hear of a little colored boy who was taken out of school in this city, and carried to prison?

Mary

No. What did they do that for?

Elizabeth.

I will tell you. He, and his parents, had been slaves. His father had run away, and took Henry with him. Mr. Wright went to the prison to see them. He asked the judge to let him take Henry home with him.

Mary.

Did he let him go?

Elizabeth.

Yes, but he made Mr. Wright promise to bring him back next day. Poor Henry was so afraid that he could hardly fall asleep. He would speak out in his dream, "I wont go. I wont go."

Mary.

O, he is hte boy so many children gave their pennies to have set free. Isn't he?

Elizabeth.

Yes, Mary. He is free now, and at school in the country somewhere. Instead of being brought up like a beast, he will, I hope, be a good scholar, and pergaps a minsiter! An't you glad, sister Mary?

Henry Scott was a half white, half black man who was enslaved and fought for his freedom. When he was fourteen, he met Sergeant Loring W. Muzzey who taught Scott how to read and write, as well as the rest of his regiment. In addition to Muzzey and his troupe, Muzzey’s mother sent Scott a bible which he read and later in life joined the Baptist church with the encouragement of Muzzey and his mother. Later, he became a teacher, minister, and bookstore owner, becoming politiaclly active years later and fought for equal rights. He was one of the original 29 members of the Niagara Movement — serving as a precursor to the National Advancement of Colored People and later on the Civil Rights Movement. Scott died from tuberculosis at the age of sixty two a few months after his mentor Muzzey died.

3.3. Little Dialogue

William.

Isn't it a wicked thing to keep slaves?

Ann.

Yes, very wicked. And people are beginning to think so.

William.

What does the Bible say about it?

Ann.

God "hath made of one blood all nations of men, for to dwell on all the face of the earth.""God is no respecter of persons.""He that stealeth a man, and selleth him, or if he be found in his hand, he shall surely be put to death."

William.

I long to see all slaves free; to have the children attend Sabbath schools; to have them taught to read, write, and cipher. What a joyful time that will be, Ann! Then there will be no slaves in this free country, and all can sing, "Hail Columbia, happy land.'

The first quote is from Acts 17:26 which establisehd that God created all nations from one man and established the boundaries of their habitation. The next being from Acts 10:34 amidst a revelation Peter had about God’s impartiality, accepting all individuals despite their nationality or ethnicity as long as they believe in him. The last quotation is from Exodus 21:16 in which God speaks of the enslaved people in Israel, explaining that anyone who steals a person should be put to death.

3.4. ON GOING TO BED AT NIGHT

Receive my body, pretty bed;
Soft pillow, O receive my head;
And thanks, my parents kind,
Those comforts who for me provide;
Their precepts still shall be my guide,
Their love I'll keep in mind.
My hours mispent this day I rue,
My good things done how very few!
Forgve my faults, O Lord!
This night, if in thy grace I rest,
To-morrow I may rise refresh'd,
To keep thy holy word.

3.5. Little Bird's Complaint

Here in the wiry prison, where I sing,
And think of sweet green woods, and long to fly;
Unable once to stretch my feeble wing,
Or wave my feathers in the clear blue sky.
Oh, how I long to stretch my weary wing,
And fly away as far as eye can see;
And from the topmost bough, where Robin sings,
Pour my wild songs, and be as gay as he.
Why was I taken from the waving nest?
From flow'ry fields, wide woods, and hedges green;
Torn from my tender mother's downy breast,
In this sad prison-house to die unseen!
Kind mistress, come, with gentle, pitying hand,
Unbar my prison door and set me free;
Then on the white thorn bush I'll take my stand,
And sing sweet songs to freedom and to thee.

4. A Slave's Friend No. 4


4.1. I DREAM OF ALL THINGS FREE

Note: BY MRS. HEMANS.
I dream of all things free!
Of a gallant, gallant bark,
That sweeps through the storm at sea,
Like an arrow to its mark!
Of a stag that o’er the hills
Goes bounding in his glee;
Of a thousand flashing rills—
Of all things glad and free.
I dream of some proud bird,
A bright-eyed mountain king;
In my visions I have heard
The rustling of his wing.
I follow some wild river,
On whose breast no sail may be;
Dark woods aroudn it shiver—
I dream of all things free!
Of a happy forest child,
With the fawns and flowers at play,
Of an Indain midst the wild,
With the stars to guide his way:
Of a chief his warriors leading,
Of an archer’s green wood tree—
My heart in chains is bleeding,
And I dream of all things free!
Note: Felicia Dorothea Browne, was born in Liverpool Her father was a native of Irelan, and her mother was a German lady. When very young, her parents took her to Wales. There she married Mr. Hemans She had five sons. She died in 1835, at Dublin.

4.2. The School.

Edward.

Do you see that good man teaching that boy?

Ellen.

Yes, I see him. Who is he, dear brother? Oh, I guess I know. Isn't it Mr. Andrews?

Edward.

No, Ellen, it is not he. He has gone to Michigan, I am told. But I will tell you who it is. It is Joshua Coffin,of Philadelphia.

Ellen.

I know him. Papa said he went into his evening school, and saw them writing, ciphering, and studying. They looked very happy. Now I think of it, don't they call that school the "African School?"

Edward.

By no means. Mr. Coffin would not let them call it so. All his scholars are Americans.

Ellen.

But I saw on a school-house, in the city of New-York, these words painted, "The African Free School." What do they call it so for?

Edward.

Because people have felt that the colored people among us were foreigners. They might just as well call our school-house, "the English or Irish School," because our great grandfathers came from England and Ireland.

4.3. Hymn for the Concert for Slaves

Holy Father, God of love,
Send thy spirit from above;
Help us thy great name to sing,
God of mercy, heavenly King.
For the burdened slave would we
Ask the gift of liberty;
For the weary soul oppressed,
We would ask thy peace and rest.
In thy gracious love arise, —
See his burdens,—hear his cries,—
Rend his fetters,—set him free
From oppression’s tyranny.
Then his thankful voice shall raise
Songs to thee of grateful praise:
Thy great love shall be his theme,
He shall own thee, Lord supreme.

4.4. TO A BUTTERFLY ON GIVING IT LIBERTY

Poor harmless insect, thither fly,
And life’s short hour enjoy;
‘Tis all thou hast, and why should I,
That little all destroy?
Why should my tyrant will suspend,
A life by wisdom giv’n;
Or sooner bid thy being end,
Than was design’d by Heaven?
Lost to the joy which reason knows,
Ephermeron and frail,
‘Tis thine to wander where the rose,
Perfumes the cooling gale.
To bask upon the sunny bed,
The damask flower to kiss,
To range along the bending shade,
Is all thy little bliss.
Then flutter still thy silken wings,
In rich embroidery drest,
And sport upon the gale that flings
Sweet odours from his vest.

4.5. Little Arithmeticians.

James.

I thought, father, you did not mean to have such long words in the Slave's Friend.

Father.

I can not always help it. If you find any word you do not understand, you must ask the meaning of it.

James.

I will, papa. Do tell me what that great long word, a r i t h m e t i c i a n s, menas?

Father.

It means those who study arithmetic, my son.

James.

Is that all? Why, father, I'm ashamed that I asked you such a question. The word looked so long, I did no tthink I knew what it meant.

Father.

I want to tell you something about mental arithmetic. It is to reckon in your head. Cyphering, you know, is to do it with a slate, or pen and ink. The Africans reckon in their heads. Their money is a kind of shell. They are called cowries. It takes a great many to make a small sum. Travellers are suprised to see the Africans calculate, in their heads, so well as they do. They say we cannot reckon so well.

James.

Dont that show that the blacks have as much sense as we have?

Father.

It shows that some of them have more. And I want to tell you, my son, and all my little readers, that it is very rash, and very offensive to God, for white people to think he has made them superior to black people. If the colored people only had the same advantages the whites have, they would be equal to them. This has always been the case.

Cowrie shells were a vital part of African Culture as symbols of wealth, power, fertility, and protection. They could be used to purchase things such as tools and groceries or pay taxes or laborers. The earliest known use of cowrie shells is from the 7th century BCE in China with the earliest existence of the shell in West Africa appearing in the 14th century. The shells belonged to snails and, to make them into a form of currency, workers – typically women – worked to clean them with seawater and freshwater to make them ready to be used. Oftentimes enslaved people were given a quote based in cowrie shells which was ever-increasing during the transatlantic slave trade.

5. The Slave's Friend No.5


5.1. THE WORM

No, little worm, thou need not slip
Into thy hole, with such a skip;
Drawing the gravel as thou glides,
On thy smooth and slimy sides.
I’m not a crow, poor worm, not I,
Peeping about thy holes to spy,
And fly away with thee in the air,
To give my little ones each a share.
No, and I’m not a rolling stone,
Creaking along with hollow groan;
Nor am I of the naughty crew,
Who don’t care what poor worms go through,
But trample on them as they lay,
Rather than step the other way.
For my part, I could never bear
Your tender flesh to hack and tear,
Forgetting that poor worms endure
As much as I should, to be sure,
If any giant should come and jump
Upon my back and kill me plump,
Or run my heart through with a scythe,
And think it fun to see me writhe!
Note: >NOTE. When the Bible would represent to us a person that is weak, mean, and despised in the world, it compares him to a worm of the earth.

5.2. TO A LITTLE CHILD

O, turn that little foot aside,
Nor crush beneath its tread
The humblest creature of the earth,
That looks to God for bread.
Thou should’st not dare in wanton sport
Such wondrous skill to mar,
To stop the tide of joyous life,
Which God has nourished there.
If He who made the universe,
Stoops down in kindest love,
To make an insect of the earth,
From his high throne above;
O! who should dare that insect’s life
In wantonness destroy,
Or give a pang to any thing,
That he has made for joy?
My child, begin in little things
To act a gentle part,
For God will turn his love away
From the hard and cruel heart.

6. The Slave's Friend No. 11


6.1. James Jackson.

Charles.

I am glad you bought that pretty book, in Boston, for me to read, Papa. I love Miss Susan Paul, for writing it. James was a good boy, wasn't he?

Papa.

A very good boy. And he was not seven years old, Charles, when he died.

Charles.

May I read to you, dear Papa, a little in this book? It is very interesting, indeed.

Papa.

I shall be glad to hear you, my son.

Charles reads.

"James thought he should be glad to keep the holy Sabbath, just as the Lord would have him. A few Sabbaths after James had learned this command, his mother put some coffee into the coffee-mill, and told him to grind it for breakfast. James took the mill and began to turn; but soon he almost stopped, and seemed thinking of something. His sister seeing this, said, 'Ma, shall I grind the coffee for you?' After a moment, her mother said, 'Yes, I guess you must; James is lazy this morning.' James looked mildly on his mother, with a tear in his eye, and said, 'Ma, did I not split wood for you, yesterday?' 'Yes, James; but that has nothing to do with grinding the coffee, this morning.' 'Well, Ma, is not this the Sabbath?' 'Yes.' Then James said to his mother, 'The commandment says, Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy. On it thou shalt not do any work; and now, Ma, ought I to grind the coffee?' His mother was surprised. James set the mill down on the floor. Then his mother said, 'Well, James, you need not grind the coffee.'"

Papa.

You may read, now, what he said to the doctor, just before he died.

Charles.

I will, sir; here is is.

(Reads.)

"While he was in great pain, the physician came in; and after standing a few moments by his bed-side, he went to another part of the room, where James could not see him. James asked his mother if the doctor had gone. When he was told he had not, 'Well,' said he, 'I want to see him.' The doctor came to the bed-side, and said, 'What do you want, James?' He replied, 'I want to know if you love God, my Saviour?' 'What do you say, James?' said the doctor. James repeated, with as much strength as he could, 'Do you know God, my Saviour?' The doctor, as he turned his face from the little sufferer, said, 'That is a happy child.'"

Originally published in 1835. Susan Paul – an African American abolitionist from Boston, Massachusetts – wrote The Memoir of James ackson, The Attentive and Obedient Scholar, Who Died in Boston, October 31, 1833, Aged Six Years and Eleven Months, which was approximately 200 pages detailing the unfortunately short life of James Jackson who was a student of Paul’s. This document is hailed as the first African American biography combines eyewitness accounts, personal testimony, and excerpts from religious texts, telling the story of a young boy who was described in the most simplest of terms as “good.”

6.2. Mobs.

Ellen.

Father, what is the meaning of the word mob? I don't find it in the Bible.

Father.

I suppose not, but there are many mobs spoken of in the Bible, though under some other name. the word means a parcel of men and boys got together to do mischief.

Ellen.

Do tell me about the mobs in the Bible.

Father.

I will, my child, just mention a few out of a great many. When Jesus went to Nazareth and preached, the wicked peple of that day "were filled with wrath, and rose up, and thrust him out of the city, and led him unto the brow, or edge of the hill whereon their city was built, that they might cast him down headlong."

Ellen.

Why did they do so, dear father?

Father.

Because Jesus told them of their sins so plainly.

Ellen.

Will you tell me of another mob?

Father.

Judas came with a mob to take Jesus. The holy Savior went into a garden, in the evening, with his disciples, to pray. Judas came upon him with "a great multitude with swords and staves, and lanterns and torches." He had told them the truth, and they would not bear it. They did not want to give up their sins. So they took him and put him to death.

Ellen.

What cruel men to murder the dear Savior!

Father.

I will now tell you of another mob. When Stephen preached, the people got angry, came upon him, caught him, and told lies about him. "They were cut to the heart, and they gnashed on him with their teeth." Soon "they cried out with a loud voice, and stopped their ears, and ran upon him with one accord, and cast him out of the city, and stoned him."

7. A Slave's Friend No.8


7.1. AESOP

David.

Who was Aesop, dear father?

Mr. Snow.

He wrote Aesop's Fables, that you love so much to read.

David.

I know that, sir, but where was he born, and who was he?

Mr. Snow.

He was born in Asia, nearly 600 years before Christ. He was deformed, and a slave. His nose was flat, his lips were thick, and his skin was dark. He used to say, when any one asked him where he was born,"I am a negro."

[See Aesop's Life]
David.

Aesop a slave, father! I did not know that before.

Mr. Snow.

He was, my son. But he had a fine mind; one of his masters had him taught Greek. And Aesop told one he must not look at the color of his skin, but at his mind.

David.

That was a very pretty remark, wasn't it papa? It seems then they let slaves learn to read in old times.

Mr. Snow.

Yes, no slaves but American slaves have been denied books. How I blush for America! Aesop composed his fables to soften the hardship of being a slave. Learning did not hurt him, you see; and it will not hurt any one. On the cover of the Slave's Friend, it is said, The lips of the wise disperse knowledge. This is from the Bible. This precious book says also, Fools hate knowledge.

American lawmakers and slave owners denied African Americans the right to read as they saw it as “the first step toward self-emancipation.” With the ability to read, enslaved peoples could begin learning and, in turn, learning ways to earn their freedom. The entirety of the United States slave system was predicated on the lack of education given to people of color in order to keep them underneath the social elite, refusing schooling, literacy, and sometimes even Sunday school. This is a large reason why we do not have as many first-hand accounts of slavery from the enslaved persons perspective as many slaves didn’t have the time nor the ability to write about their life and hardships.

7.2.

“I cannot, cannot wash it off,”
Said the little colored boy,
Whose countenance ne’er shone
With the beaming light of joy—
“I went down to the river’s side,
While master’s people slept,
But I could not, could not wash it off,”
Said the colored boy, and wept.
He looked upon his master’s child,
And thought with what delight
‘Twould fill his little breaking heart,
Were his brow so pure and white;
And softly to the river’s brink
At early dawn he crept,
“I cannot, cannot wash it off,”
Said the colored boy, and wept.
Though dark his brow as ebony,
And sable was his skin,
The gentle mind that he possessed
Was pure and fair within:
But the Ethiop dyes which guilt and sin
Have spread o’er human clay,
There is not any earthly stream
Can cleanse or wash away.
O no! but there’s a fountain pure,
Whose sacred source is Heaven;
Whose ever-living waters
To a sinful world are given–
“Wash in that fountain and be clean,”
Faith hears the spirit say–
“Go to that pure and holy stream,
And wash thy stains away.”

7.3. THE PRETTY ROBIN.

Away, pretty robin, fly home to thy nest,
To make thee a captive I still should like best,
And feed thee with worms and with bread:
Thy eyes are so sparkling, thy feathers so soft,
Thy little wings flutter so pretty aloft,
And they breast is all colored with red.
But then ‘twould be cruel to keep thee, I know,
So stretch out thy wings, little Robin, and go,
Fly home to thy young ones again;
Go, listen again to the notes of thy mate,
And enjoy the green shade in the lonely retreat,
Secure from the wind and the rain.
But when the leaves fall, and the winter winds blow,
And the green fields are covered all over with snow,
And the clouds in white feathers descend;
When the springs are all ice, and the rivulets freeze,
And the long shining icicles drop from the trees,
Then, Robin, remember thy friend.
When with cold and with hunger quite perished and weak,
Come tap at my window again with thy beak,
And gladly I’ll let thee come in;
Thou shalt fly to my bosom, or perch on my thumbs,
Or hop round the table and pick up the crumbs,
And never be hungry again.

8. A Slave's Friend No.9


8.1. IS IT POSSIBLE?

May children as young as I be sold,
And torn away from their mother’s hold–
From home—from all they have loved and known,
To dwell in the great wide world alone?
Far, far away in some distant place,
Where they never may see their parent’s face?
Oh, how I should cry to be torn from you!
Tell me, dear mother, can this be true?
Yes, my child.
And can the tales I have heard to be true,
Of the cruel things some masters do?
That the poor slaves often must creep to bed,
On their scattered straw, but scantily fedl
Be sometimes loaded with heavy chains,
And flogged till their blood the keen lash stains;
While none will care for their bitter cry,
Or soothe their hearts, when their grief is high?
Yes, my child.

8.2. SNOW.

O come to the window, dear brother, and see,
What mischief was done in the night;
The snow has quite cover’d the nice appletree,
And the bushes are sprinkled with white.
The spring in the grove is beginning to freeze,
The pond is hard frozen all o’er;
Long icicles hang in bright rows from the trees,
And drop in odd shapes from the door.
The old mossy thatch, and the meadow so green,
Are cover’d all over with white;
The snowdrop and crocus no more can be seen,
The thick snow has covered them quite.
And see the poor birds how they fly to and fro,
They’re come for their breakfast again,
But the little worms all are hid under the snow,
They hop about chirping in vain.
Then open the window, I’ll throw them some bread,
I’ve some of my breakfast to spare;
I wish they would come to my hand to be fed,
But they’re all flown away in the air.
Nay, now, pretty birds, don’t be frightened, I pray,
You shall not be hurt I’ll engage;
I’m not come to catch you and force you away,
And fasten you up in a cage.
I wish you could know you’ve no cause for alarm,
From me you have nothing to fear;
Why, my little fingers would do you no harm,
Although you came ever so near.

9. The Slave's Friend No.10


9.1.

Note: Found in Mary Walton’s work-box, after the decease of Stephen Ricks, who died at the Shelter for colored Orphans,* in the 2d month, 1832.
Mary, once I feared to go
From a world of care and woe;
But thou taught me how to die—
How to fix my hopes on high;
Bade my childish fears depart,
And revived my trembling heart;
Told me in a heavenly land,
With a chosen seraph band,
I should join in singing praise,
And my feeble anthems raise.
Yes! thou taught a little child,
With affection meek and mild,
That his home was far above,
In a land of peace and love;
Told me Jesus sweetly smiled
On a humble, sable child.
Oh then, dearest Mary, still
With thy king, persuasive skill,
Lead a little orphan band
To this bright, celestial land,
Where the colored people share
In redeeming mercy fair.
In that holy, heavenly spot,
Jesus says, “Forbid them not;
Suffer them to come to me,
They shall of my goodness see.”
And when Mary’s glass is run,
When her work on earth is done,
Here a little ransomed band
Shall before her joyful stand,
Shall before her joyful stand,
Welcome to a land of love,
To a “shelter” far above,
Where no little orphan’s tear
Shall distress a heart sincere;
Where no parting funeral knell
Shall a long, sad farewell tell.
Oh then, dearest Mary, stay—
Teach the orphans how to pray;
Lead them all to Jesus fair,
Make them thy peculiar care—
Bid their infant hearts arise,
Lead them to the blissful skies.
Note: *This Shelter for Colored Orphans is in Philadelphia. Some account of it was given in the Slave’s Friend No. 7. It was built by the Society of Friends.

9.2. Thief and Robber.

Alfred.

What is the difference, Mr. Sherwood, between a thief and a robber? siad Alfred to his teacher.

Mr. Sherwood.

A thief is one that takes what is not his own by stealth, that is, secretly. A robber is one that plunders by force.

Alfred.

The robber then runs more danger than the thief, does he not, sir?

Mr. S.

Certainly. He risks more personal danger.

Alfred.

Then it is meaner and more cowardly, to be a thief than a robber, I should think.

Mr. S.

It doubless is; but both are great crimes—against the laws of God and man.

Alfred.

Is a slave-holder a thief or a robber?

Mr. S.

Both, I think. He takes men, women, and children, by stealth, and by force. In Exodus 21:16, it is said, "And he that stealeth a man and selleth him, or if he be found in his hand, he shall surely be put to death." Man-stealing, in those days, you see, was considered a very great crime. the apostle Paul, in 1 Tim. 1:10, says, "The Law is made for men-stealers." Stealers of men are all those who bring off slaves or freemen, an keep, sell, or buy them. Bishop Horsely said, "We have reason to conclude, from the mention made of 'slave-traders' or 'men-stealers' by the apostle Paul, that if any of them should ever find their way to heaven, they must go thither in company with murderers and parricides."*

Note: A parricide is a murderer of a father.

9.3. ADDRESS OF A LITTLE SLAVE-BOY TO HIS MASTER’S SON.

Dear white young master, hear, I pray,
What your poor black boy aims to say.
I often wonder why should be
Such difference betwixt you and me;
For I’m as tall and strong as you,
And many things as well can do;
Can feel and see, can hear and talk.
‘Tis true I am not nice of speech;
For who poor simple black will teach?
For me to labor, dig and hoe,
Is all that I am like to know;
But you have teachers every day,
And much you learn, at least you may;
They teach you to be good and wise,
But my hard lot this boon denies.
Dear, good young master, pray attend;
You can poor friendless black befriend;
Neglected, ignorant, and rude,
I fain would learn, would fain be good;
Oh teach me part of what you know,
You will not lose what you bestow;
And if a slave I still must be,
Oh let my mind at least be free.
I heard your kind mamma one day
A little lesson bid you say;
She bid you fix it in your heart,
Nor ever from its law depart;
“Be you to others kinda nd true,
As you’d have others be to you.”
As you repeated what she taught,
My ear, my heart, the lesson caught;
And will he make this rule his guide?
“He will–he must”—my heart replied;
And oh! what joy to all my race,
When all ofo his this rule embrace!
Now, dear young master, what would you,
Were our lots changed, wish me to do?
W.M.

9.4. Washington.—A Dialogue.

Benjamin.

Was Washington a slave-holder, Papa?

Mr. Durfy.

Yes, he was. But he knew it was not right to hold men as property.

Benj.

I read in Washington's Will that he gave a good many slaves their freedom at his death.

Mr. D.

He did so, and it would have been better if he had let them go free in his lifetime.

Benj.

Is it a good excuse, father, for any one to say, "Washington was a slave-holder."

Mr. D.

By no means. A person might as well attempt to justify drunkenness by saying, Governor A. drank brandy. There, my son, read what Washington himself, said of slavery.

Benj.
[Reads in Sparks's edition of Washington's Papers.]

"I can only say, that there is not a man living, who wishes more sincerely than I do to see a plan adopted for the abolition of it, (slavery)."Letter to Robert Morris. "Your late purchase of an estate in the colony of Cayenne, with a view of emancipating the slaves on it, is a generous and noble proof of your humanity. Would to God a like spirit might diffuse itself generally into the minds of the people of this country." – Letter to the Marquis de Lafayette. "I never mean, unless some paritcular circumstance should compel me to it, to possess another slave by purchase, it being among my first wishes to see some plan adopted, by which slavery in this country may be abolished by law." –Letter to John F. Mercer.

9.4.1. A SLAVE-SHIP.*

Oh! I have done a cursed deed,
The wretched man replies,
And night and day, and every where,
‘Tis still before my eyes.
I sailed on board a guinea-man,
And to the slave-coast went,
Would that the sea had swallowed me,
When I was innocent!
And we took in our cargo there,
Three hundred negro slaves;
And we sailed onward merrily,
Over the ocean waves.
One woman, sulkier than the rest,
Would still refuse her food—
Hark! hark! e’en now I hear her cries!
I see her in her blood!
They flung her overboard—poor wretch,
She rested from her pain;
But when, O when! O blessed God,
Shall I have rest again?
Note: From the Juvenile Poems for the use of Free American Children, of every complexion. By W.L.G.
Note: *A sailor was seen on his knees, crying and groaning, and confessing to God that he had been to the African coast for slaves.

9.5. The Slave's Friend No.11


9.5.1. THE SLAVE TRADER

From the ocean’s wave a wanderer came,
With visage tanned and dun;
His mother, when he told his name,
Scarce he knew her long lost son;
So altered were his face and frame,
By the ill course he had run.
“There’s blood upon my hands,” he said,
“Which water cannot wash;
It was not shed where warriors bled,
But dropped from the gory lash,
As I whirled it o’er and o’er my head,
And with each stroke left a gash.
“With every stroke I left a gash,
While negro blood sprang high,—
And now all ocean cannot wash
My soul from murder’s dye;
Not e’en thy prayer, dear mother, stop
That woman’s wild death-cry!
“Her cry is ever in my ear
And will not let me pray,
Her look I see— her voice I hear—
As when in death she lay,
And said, ‘with me thou must appear,
On God’s great Judgement Day!’”

9.5.2. Slave Vessels.

Rufus.

What Ship is that?

Seth.

That is not a Ship, dear brother, but a Brig. Her name is Saint Nicholas.

Rufus.

Is that the slaver?

Seth.

She is supposed to be a slave-vessel.

Rufus.

I heard that the collector of New York had seized that brig, just as she was ready for sea, and that the captain and part of the crew had been taken before the United States Judge. What made them think it was a slaver?

Seth.

She was built very sharp, so as to sail fast, and take but little cargo. That shows she was not intended for a merchant ship. The English ships of war cruise on the coast of Africa, and they will capture slave ships if they do not sail very fast. Then she had large water tanks that would hold upwards of one hundred and twenty gallons of water each. This shows that they expected to have a large number of people on board to drink this water. Merchant vessels take water in casks. There were also cannon, muskets, cutlasses, and pistols on board.

Rufus.

But I heard someone say she might belong to the navy, or be a privateer?

Seth.

If she had been either they would have shown their commision. Besides, there were iron-gratings for the hatchways.

Rufus.

What use could they make of the gratings?

Seth.

They put them over the hatchway so that light and air can go down into the hold of the vessel and the slaves can still be kept from escaping. Slave vessels always have them. And the witnesses who had seen slave-vessels had no doubt from her general appearance that this brig was one. The cargo consisted of such goods as the slave-traders take to Africa to exchange for slaves. There were, beside other articles, twenty-five boxes of muskets, and five hundred kegs of powder! They can buy a slave in Africa for a musket or a flask of gunpowder.

Rufus.

O, dreadful! What wicked men! But could not they make the sailors tell where they were going? And what they were going for?

Seth.

No, they would not confess anything before the Judge. But two of them, who were Italians, had told a few days before, that they were going to Africa “after n—” and when they had brought them to the island of Cuba, they were going to sell them. So the Judge sent these two sailors to prison, and they will be tried, and as there was not evidence enough to commit the rest they were set at liberty.

Rufus.

What will be done to such people and to the brig, if the men are proved to be guilty?

Seth.

The vessel will be confiscated, that is taken from them; besides they will have to pay a large fine, and be put in prison. Now, Rufus, what will you say when I tell you this brig was built at Baltimore, and that people in this country join with wicked men of other nations, in fitting out vessels for the slave-trade, every year?

Rufus.

What will I say? Why, that it is a disgrace to this country, and a horrible wickedness in the sight of God. I read the other day about these wicked brokers in the trade of blood, who buy, and sell, and steal, for gold.

Seth.

I have read also what Jonathan Edwards said, forty-three years ago, – “To steal a man, or to rob him of his liberty, is a greater sin than to steal his property, or to take it by violence. And to hold a man in a state of slavery, who has a right to his liberty, is to be every day guilty of robbing him of his liberty, or of man-stealing.” I wish that all ministers, nowadays, would preach the truth so faithfully. Then, as your father said yesterday, slavery would soon come to an end; and when there is no slavery there will be no slave-trade.

James.

I have just heard that the St. Nicholas has gone to sea! The grand jury have indicted the captain; but the consignees had given bonds for a quarter of the brig, and so away went the pirate-brig!!

9.6. LETTER FROM AN INFANT SLAVE TO THE CHILD OF ITS MISTRESS – BOTH BORN ON THE SAME DAY

Baby! Be not surprised to see
A few short lines coming from me,
Addressed to you;
For babies black of three months old
May write as well, as I’ve been told,
Some white ones do.
There are some things I hear and see,
Which very much do puzzle me,
Pray don’t they you?
For the same day our lives begun,
And all things here beneath the sun,
To both are new.
Baby, sometimes I hear you cry,
Any many run to find out why,
And cure the pain;
But when I cry from pains severe,
There’s no one round who seems to hear,
I cry in vain.
Except it be when she is nigh,
Whose gentle love, I know not why,
Is all for me;
Her tender care soothes all my pain,
Brings to my face those smiles again,
She smiles to see.
With hunger faint, with grief distressed,
I once my wretchedness expressed,
With urgent power;
Some by my eloquence annoyed,
To still my grief rough blows employed;
Oh, dreadful hour!
Why first thy father saw his child,
With hope, and love, and joy, he smiled —
Bright schemes he planned;
Mine groaned, and said with sullen brow,
Another slave is added now
To this free land.
Why am I thought so little worth,
You prized so highly from your birth?
Tell, if you know;
Why are my woes and joys as nought,
With careful love your’s shunned or sought
Why is it so?
My own dear mother, it is true,
Loves me as well as your’s does you;
But when she’s gone,
None else to me a care extends;
None else to me a care extends;
I only one?
Why must that one be sent away,
Compelled for long, long hours to stay
Apart from me?
I think as much as I she mourns,
And is a glad when she returns,
Her child to see.
One day I saw my mother weep,
A tear fell on me when asleep,
And made me wake;
Not for herself that tear was shed,
Her own woes she could bear, she said,
But for my sake.
She could not bear, she said, to think,
That I the cup of woe must drink,
Which she had drunk;
That from my cradle to my grave,
I too must live a wretched slave,
Degraded, sunk.
Her words I scarcely understood,
They seemed to speak of little good,
For coming years;
But joy with all my musings blends,
And infant thought not far extends
Its hopes or fears.
I ponder much to comprehend
What sour of beings, gentle friend,
We’ve got among;
Some things in my experience,
Do much confound my budding sense
Of right and wrong.
Baby, I love you; ‘tis not right
To love you less because you’re white;
Then surely you
Will never learn to scorn or hate,
Whom the same Maker did create
Of darker hue.
Beneath thy pale uncolored skin,
As warm a heart may beat within,
As beats in me.
Unjustly I will not forget,
Souls are not colored white or jet,
In thee or me.
Your coming of the tyrant race,
I will not think in you disgrace,
Since not your choice;
If you’re as just and kind to me,
Through all our lives, why may not we,
In love rejoice?
E.T.C.

9.7. Little Slave's Complaint

Who loves the little slave? Who cares
If well or ill I be?
Is there a living soul that shares
A thought or wish for me?
I’ve had no parents since my birth,
Brothers and sisters — none:
O, what is all this world to me,
Where I am only one!
I wake, and see the sun arise,
And all around me gay;
But nothing I behold is mine,
No— not the life of day!
No ! not the very breath I draw—
These limbs are not my own;
A master calls me his by law,
My griefs are mine alone.
Ah, these they could not make him feel-
Would they themselves had felt
Who bound me to that man of steel,
Whom mercy cannot melt.
Yet not for wealth or ease I sigh,
All are not rich and great:
Many may be as poor as I —
But none so desolate.
For all I know have kin and kind,
Some home, some hope, some joy;
But these I must not look to find—
Who knows the colored boy?
The world has not a place of rest
For outcasts so forlorn —
‘Twas all bespoken, all possest—
Long before I was born!
Affection, too, life’s sweetest cup,
Goes round from hand to hand;
But I am never ask’d to sup—
Out of the ring I stand!
If kindness beats within my heart,
What heart will beat again?
I coax the dogs, — they snarl and start,-
Brutes are as bad as men.
The beggar’s child may rise above
The misery of his lot,
The g—- may be loved and love —
But I — but I — must not.
Hard fare, cold lodgings, cruel toil,
Youth, health, and strength consume;
What tree could thrive in such a soil?
What flower so scathed could bloom?
Should I outgrow this cripling work,
How shall my bread be sought?
Must I to other lads turn Turk,
And teach what I am taught?
O! might I roam with flocks and herds
In fellowship along!
O! were I one among the birds—
All wing, all life, all song!
Free with the fishes may I dwell,
Down in the quiet sea;
The snail in his cobeastled shell—
The snail’s a king to me.
For out he goes in April showers,
Lies snug when storms prevail,
He feeds on fruits, he sleeps on flowers —
I wish I was a snail.
No: neyer ! do the worst they can,
I may be happy still;
For I was born to be a man —
And with God’s leave, I will.
Note: We have altered the title of this sweet little poem, and a word or two in a few of the verses.
– Ed.

10. The Slave's Friend No. 12


10.1. Hymn

Whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them.
When on the fragrant sandal tree
The woodman’s axe descends,
And that which flourished beauteously,
Beneath his keen stroke bends,
E’en on the edge that wrought its death;
Dying, it sheds its sweetest breath,
As if to token in its fall,
Peace to its foes, and love to all.
How hardly we this lesson learn,
To smile and bless the hands that spurn,—
To see the bow,—to feel the pain,
Yet render only love again;
One bore this spirit, who from heaven
Dweld on our earth and was betrayed,
No curse he breathed, no plaint he made,
But when in death for them he sighed,
Prayed for his murderers, and died!

10.2. Pompey and the Justice.

Justice.

Here, you black rascal, you have been stealing, have you?

Pompey.

"Yes, masssa. Me know me got dem tings from Tom dere. ME tink Tom 'teal dem too; but what den, massa? Dey be only a piccaninny knife, and a piccaninny corkscrew. An' me pay Tom honestly for dem, massa."

Justice.

A pretty story, truly! You knew they were stolen, and yet excuse yourself by saying you paid honestly for them. Don't you know, Pompey, that "the Receiver is as bas as the Thief?" You shall be whipt!

Pompey.

"Very well, massa; it be all right, I 'spose. But if de black rascal be whipt for buying 'tolen goods, me hope de white rascal be whipt too, for same ting, when you catch him."

Justice.

To be sure.

Pompey.

"Well den, here be Tom's massa - hold him fast, constable! He buy Tom, as I buy de piccaninny knife, and de piccaninny corkscrew. He knew berry well Tom be stole from his old fadder and mudder. De knife and de corkscrew hab neder!"

Included in this play is the use of vernacular English. Vernacular English is often used to replicate the way in which people speak. Due to the lack of education of enslaved people, they would frequently talk in a more colloquial, informal language, shown in vernacular English by change words like the to “de” or mother to “mudder.” The original lines are included in order to illustrate the way in which black bodies were portrayed to the rest of the world and to examine the way in which language can prove to be a powerful portrayal of personhood.
Date: 2025-05-29