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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=117555" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Little Sado's story</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Robert Sutcliff, in his book of travels in America, relates the incident<br>which has suggested the following lines. Little Sado was an African<br>boy, who was rescued from a slave-ship by a United States’ frigate, and<br>provided by the Pennsylvania Abolition Society with a home, in a<br>respectable family, near Philadelphia.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Although tended with the greatest tenderness,” says Sutcliff, “yet he<br>was often seen weeping at the recollection of his near connexions. He<br>said that himself and sister were on a visit, at a relation's, and that<br>after the family had retired to rest, they were suddenly alarmed at the<br>dead of night, by a company of man-stealers breaking into their<br>habitation. They were all carried off towards the sea, where they arrived<br>at the end of three days, and were confined until the vessel sailed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Not long after this negro boy had been brought into S. P.'s family, he<br>was taken ill of a bad fever; and for a time there appeared but little<br>hopes of his recovery, although the best medical help was obtained, and<br>every kindness and attention shown him.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“There being now scarcely any prospect of his recovery, his mistress<br>was desirous of administering some religious consolation, and observed<br>to him, as he had always been a very good boy, she had no doubt that if<br>he died at this time, his spirit would be admitted into a state of eternal<br>rest and peace. On hearing this he quickly replied, ‘I know that if I die,<br>I shall be happy; for as soon as my body is dead, my spirit shall fly<br>away to my father and mother and sisters and brothers in Africa.’ The<br>boy recovered. His good conduct had gained the favour and respect of<br>the whole family, and I have no doubt that the care bestowed upon his<br>education, will in due time afford him a brighter prospect of a future<br>state than that of returning to Africa.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Why weep'st thou, gentle boy? Is not thy lot<br>Amidst a home of tenderness and friends<br>Who have been ever kind to thee? Thy heart<br>Should be too young for the world's bitterness,<br>And the deep grief, that even amidst thy smiles,<br>Seems scarce to be forgotten. Thou art good,<br>A very innocent and gentle boy,<br>And I would have thee happy. Is there aught<br>Thou lackest with us, Sado? Did I not,<br>In thy sore sickness, with a mother's care,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Watch by thy couch and nurse thee? Day by day<br>Have I not taught thee patiently? and more<br>Than earthly learning, show'd thee of the way<br>To win eternal happiness. A better hope<br>Than that which only look'd to Afric's shore,<br>To find thy future Heaven!”—</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Yes, thou hast done all this,<br>And much more, lady! Thou hast been to me<br>A true and tireless friend, and may there be<br>Laid up for thee a full reward of bliss,<br>In that bright Heaven of which I've heard thee tell,<br>Where God and all his holy angels dwell.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Yet how can I but weep<br>Whene'er I think upon the mother's eye,<br>That smiled to meet my glance in days gone by,<br>And watch'd in tenderness above my sleep,<br>Now grown all dim with hopeless grief for me,<br>Who never more may home or parent see.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“'T was on a bright sunny morn,<br>When with glad heart I sprang across the hills,<br>With my young sister, and beside the rills,<br>Whose shining waves and clustering flowers were borne,<br>While at the cabin door my mother stood,<br>And watch'd our footsteps to the distant wood.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“She never saw us more—<br>For in the dead of night, while deep we slept<br>Within our uncle's home, the man-thieves crept<br>With stealthy pace, like tigers, to our door.<br>And, bursting in, they dragg'd us far away,<br>A helpless, frighten'd, unresisting prey.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Ah, lady, now thine eyes<br>Are wet with tears:—then wonder not I weep,<br>Within whose waking thoughts, or dreams of sleep,<br>The memories of such scenes as this arise,<br>And worse than these, the constant thought of pain,<br>That I shall never see my home again.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Three days they drove us on,<br>A weary, wretched, and despairing band,<br>Until with swollen limbs we reach'd the strand,<br>Where ‘neath the setting sun the sea-waves shone;<br>Then gasping in the slave-ship's hold we lay,<br>And wish'd each groan might bear our lives away.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Ah, thou canst never know<br>Of all our sufferings in that loathsome den,<br>And from the cruel and hard-hearted men,<br>Who mock'd at all our anguish and our woe;<br>Until at length thy country's ship came by,<br>And saved us from our depth of misery.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Yet still, though not a slave,<br>I am a stranger in a stranger's land,<br>Far sever'd from my own dear kindred band,<br>By many a wide-stretch'd plain and rolling wave;<br>And, although even with thee my lot is cast,<br>I cannot lose the memory of the past.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Then wonder not I weep;<br>For never can my lost home be forgot;<br>Nor all the loved ones who have made that spot<br>The heaven to which e'en yet, amid my sleep,<br>My hopes are somtimes turn'd—though thou hast taught<br>My waking hours a holier, better thought.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Elizabeth+Margaret+Chandler">Elizabeth Margaret Chandler</a> from <i>Poetical Works</i><div class=q>
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