"ANDROCLES AND THE LION."
"There was a certain slave named Androcles, who was so ill treated by his master that his life became insupportable. Finding no remedy for what he suffered, he at length said to himself: 'It is better to die than to continue to live in such hardships and misery as I am obliged to suffer. I am determined, therefore, to run away from my master. If I am taken again, I know that I shall be punished with a cruel death; but it is better to die at once, than to live in misery. If I escape, I
must betake myself to deserts and woods, inhabited only by beasts; but they cannot use me more cruelly than I have been used by my fellow-creatures; therefore, I will rather trust myself with them, than continue to be a miserable slave.'
"Having formed this resolution, he took an opportunity of leaving his master's house, and hid himself in a thick forest, which was at some miles' distance from the city. But here the unhappy man found that he had only escaped from one kind of misery to experience another. He wandered about all day through a vast and trackless wood, where his flesh was continually torn by thorns and brambles; he grew hungry, but could find no food in this dreary solitude! At length he was ready to die with fatigue, and lay down in despair in a large cavern which he found by accident."
"Poor man!" said Harry, whose little heart could scarcely contain itself at this mournful recital, "I wish I could have met with him; I would have given him all my dinner, and he should have had my bed. But pray, sir, tell me why does one man behave so cruelly to another, and why should one person be the servant of another, and bear so much ill treatment?"
"As to that," said Tommy, "some folks are born gentlemen, and then they must command others; and some are born servants, and then they must do as they are bid. I remember, before I came hither, that there were a great many black men and women, that my mother said were only born to wait upon me; and I used to beat them, and kick them, and throw things at them whenever
I was angry; and they never dared strike me again, because they were slaves."
"And pray, young man," said Mr Barlow, "how came these people to be slaves?"
Tommy.—Because my father bought them with his money. Mr Barlow.—So then people that are bought with money are slaves, are they? T.—Yes. Mr B.—And those that buy them have a right to kick them, and beat them, and do as they please with them? T.—Yes. Mr B.—Then, if I was to take and sell you to Farmer Sandford, he would have a right to do what he pleased with you? No, sir, said Tommy, somewhat warmly; but you would have no right to sell me, nor he to buy me. Mr B.—Then it is not a person's being bought or sold that gives another a right to use him ill, but one person's having a right to sell another, and the man who buys having a right to purchase? T.—Yes, sir. Mr B.—And what right have the people who sold the poor negroes to your father to sell them, or what right has your father to buy them? Here Tommy seemed to be a good deal puzzled, but at length he said, "They are brought from a country that is a great way off, in ships, and so they become slaves." Then, said Mr Barlow, "if I take you to another country, in a ship, I shall have a right to sell you?" T.—No, but you won't, sir, because I was born a gentleman. Mr B.—What do you mean by that, Tommy? Why (said Tommy, a little confounded), to have a fine house, and fine clothes, and a coach, and a great deal of money, as my papa has. Mr B.—Then if you were no longer to have a fine house, nor fine
clothes, nor a great deal of money, somebody that had all these things might make you a slave, and use you ill, and beat you, and insult you, and do whatever he liked with you? T.—No, sir, that would not be right neither, that anybody should use me ill. Mr B.—Then one person should not use another ill? T.—No, sir. Mr B.—To make a slave of anybody is to use him ill, is it not? T.—I think so. Mr B.—Then no one ought to make a slave of you? T.—No, indeed, sir. Mr B.—But if no one should use another ill, and making a slave is using him ill, neither ought you to make a slave of any one else. T.—Indeed, sir, I think not; and for the future I never will use our black William ill; nor pinch him, nor kick him, as I used to do. Mr B.—Then you will be a very good boy. But let us now continue our story.