Pictures and Stories from Uncle Tom's Cabin

The purpose of the Editor of this little Work, has been to adapt it for the juvenile family circle. The verses have accordingly been written by the Authoress for the capacity of the youngest readers, and have been printed in a large bold type. The prose parts of the book, which are well suited for being read aloud in the family circle, are printed in a smaller type, and it is presumed that in these our younger friends will claim the assistance of their older brothers or sisters, or appeal to the ready aid of their mamma.
January, 1853.
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1853, by John P. Jewett and Company, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts.


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, 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 SALE OF LITTLE HARRY.
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.

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. So 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.