CHAP. II.
BLACK SLAVES.
Charles used to go every fine day after his lessons were finished, to play in the square gardens; and as all the other boys whose parents lived in the square went there too, he had several friends, and amongst them one a little older than himself, named Peter Ross, whom he liked better than any of the rest.
Peter was not an English boy, he was a West-Indian: his father and mother lived in Jamaica, but they had sent him to England to be educated, so he lived with his uncle in Euston-square, and went every day to the London University school. Charles was very fond of talking to Peter, because Peter told about the slaves that worked on his father's plantations, for his father was a sugar planter, and had a large estate in Jamaica, so he was obliged to keep a great many negro slaves, for all the plantations in the West-Indies, are cultivated by negroes.
"I wish I had a slave," said Charles to his papa one evening, after he had been playing with Peter. "Do you know, papa, when Peter was at home in the West-Indies, he had a slave of his own, a black boy, to wait upon him, and do every thing he wanted; and Peter was his master, and he was not older, then, than I am. What a nice thing it must be to have a slave of one's own; I should get him to carry my kite, and my hoop and stick, when I don't want to bowl it, and mend my toys when I break them, and do a great many things for me. He could move my rocking horse, and that great wooden box where I keep my bats and balls, for it is too heavy for me to lift myself, and I often want it moved: really a slave would be very useful to me, papa."
Mr. Barker could not help laughing at Charles's idea of the usefulness of a slave, and asked him if he knew exactly what slaves were.
"Yes," replied Charles; "they are black people."
"A great many slaves are black, certainly," said his papa, "but is not being black, that makes a man a slave, and there have been many unfortunate white people sold for slaves, as well as the poor blacks."