THE KIDNAPPERS.
Mr. B. was accustomed to read in the evening to his young folks some select story, and then ask them in turn what they thought of it. From the reflections they made on these occasions, he was enabled to form a judgment of their dispositions, and was led to throw in remarks of his own, by which their hearts and understandings might be improved. One night he read the following narrative from Churchill’s Voyages:—
“In some voyages of discovery made from Denmark to Greenland, the sailors were instructed to seize some of the natives by force or stratagem, and bring them away. In consequence of these orders, several Greenlanders were kidnapped and brought to Denmark. Though they were treated there with kindness, the poor wretches were always melancholy, and were observed frequently to turn their faces toward the north, and sigh bitterly. They made several attempts to escape, by putting out to sea in their little canoes, which had been brought with them. One of them had got as far as thirty leagues from land before he was overtaken. It was remarked that this poor man, whenever he met a woman with a child in her arms, used to utter a deep sigh; whence it was conjectured that he had left a wife and child behind him. They all pined away one after another, and died miserably.”
“Now, Edward,” said he, “what is your opinion of this story?”
Ed. Poor creatures! I think it was barbarous to take them from home.
Mr. B. It was, indeed!
Ed. Have civilized nations any right to behave so to savages?
Mr. B. I think you may readily answer that question yourself. Suppose you were a savage—what would be your opinion?
Ed. I dare say I should think it very wrong. But can savages think about right and wrong as we do?
Mr. B. Why not? are they not men?