TOM AND HIS WIFE HAVE HEARD THAT HE IS SOLD.
EVA PUTTING A WREATH OF FLOWERS ROUND TOM'S NECK.
Poor Tom is far from his cottage now,
From his own good wife, and children three,
Where coffee, and rice, and cedars grow,
By a wide old river like the sea.
And he has a master rich and kind,
With all that his heart can well desire,
But homeward still goes the negro's mind,
To the curly heads by his cottage fire.
He the gentle Eva's life did save,
When over the great ship's side she fell,
And brought her up from the drowning wave,—
So Eva had grown to love him well.
She will read to Tom for hours on hours,
And sit with him on the grass all day;
You see she is wreathing pretty flowers,
About his neck, in her pleasant play.
Different in colour and in years
Are the negro man and that fair child's face;
But a likeness in God's sight appears,
For both are the children of his grace.
From his own good wife, and children three,
Where coffee, and rice, and cedars grow,
By a wide old river like the sea.
And he has a master rich and kind,
With all that his heart can well desire,
But homeward still goes the negro's mind,
To the curly heads by his cottage fire.
He the gentle Eva's life did save,
When over the great ship's side she fell,
And brought her up from the drowning wave,—
So Eva had grown to love him well.
She will read to Tom for hours on hours,
And sit with him on the grass all day;
You see she is wreathing pretty flowers,
About his neck, in her pleasant play.
Different in colour and in years
Are the negro man and that fair child's face;
But a likeness in God's sight appears,
For both are the children of his grace.
EVA PUTTING A WREATH OF FLOWERS ROUND TOM'S NECK.She will read to Tom for hours on hours,
And sit with him on the grass all day;
You see she is wreathing pretty flowers
About his neck, in her pleasant play.
And sit with him on the grass all day;
You see she is wreathing pretty flowers
About his neck, in her pleasant play.
TOPSY AT THE LOOKING GLASS.
See little Topsy at the glass quite gay,
Her mistress has forgot the keys to-day,
So she has rummaged every drawer, and dressed
Herself out in Miss Feely's very best.
Mark where she stands! the shawl of gorgeous red
Wound like a Turk's great turban round her head;
A finer shawl far trailing on the floor,
Just shews her bare black elbows, and no more.
With what an air she flaunts the ivory fan,
And tries to step as stately as she can,
Mincing fine words to her own shadow, "Dear!
How very ungenteel the folks are here!"
But while that shadow only Topsy sees,
Back comes the careful lady for her keys,
And finds her in the grandeur all arrayed—
Poor Topsy will be punished, I'm afraid.
Now it is wrong, as every reader knows,
To rummage people's drawers, and wear their clothes;
But Topsy is a negro child, you see,
Who never learned to read like you and me.
A child whom bad men from her mother sold,
Whom a harsh mistress used to cuff and scold,
Whom no one taught or cared for all her days,
No wonder that the girl had naughty ways.
Her mistress has forgot the keys to-day,
So she has rummaged every drawer, and dressed
Herself out in Miss Feely's very best.
Mark where she stands! the shawl of gorgeous red
Wound like a Turk's great turban round her head;
A finer shawl far trailing on the floor,
Just shews her bare black elbows, and no more.
With what an air she flaunts the ivory fan,
And tries to step as stately as she can,
Mincing fine words to her own shadow, "Dear!
How very ungenteel the folks are here!"
But while that shadow only Topsy sees,
Back comes the careful lady for her keys,
And finds her in the grandeur all arrayed—
Poor Topsy will be punished, I'm afraid.
Now it is wrong, as every reader knows,
To rummage people's drawers, and wear their clothes;
But Topsy is a negro child, you see,
Who never learned to read like you and me.
A child whom bad men from her mother sold,
Whom a harsh mistress used to cuff and scold,
Whom no one taught or cared for all her days,
No wonder that the girl had naughty ways.
TOPSY AT THE LOOKING-GLASS.Mark where she stands! the shawl of gorgeous red
Wound like a Turk's great turban round her head,
A finer shawl for trailing on the floor,
Just shows her bare black elbows, and no more.
Wound like a Turk's great turban round her head,
A finer shawl for trailing on the floor,
Just shows her bare black elbows, and no more.
No home, no school, no Bible she had seen,
How bless'd besides poor Topsy we have been!
Yet boys and girls among ourselves, I've known
Puffed up with praise for merits not their own.
The copy by some clever school-mate penned,
The witty saying picked up from a friend,
Makes many a miss and master look as fine,
As if they coined the words or penned the line.
But none can keep such borrowed plumes as these,
For some one still comes back to find the keys,
And so they are found out, it comes to pass,
Just like poor Topsy at the looking-glass.
How bless'd besides poor Topsy we have been!
Yet boys and girls among ourselves, I've known
Puffed up with praise for merits not their own.
The copy by some clever school-mate penned,
The witty saying picked up from a friend,
Makes many a miss and master look as fine,
As if they coined the words or penned the line.
But none can keep such borrowed plumes as these,
For some one still comes back to find the keys,
And so they are found out, it comes to pass,
Just like poor Topsy at the looking-glass.
TOPSY BRINGING FLOWERS TO EVA.
Poor Topsy, trying to be kind,
Has brought a bunch of garden flowers
To Eva, when she lies reclined
Through the bright summer's sultry hours.
For sickness hangs on Eva now,
She can no longer run or play,
Her cheek is pale, her voice is low,
And there she lies the livelong day.
Yet Eva does not fear to die,
She knows a better home remains
For her, beyond the great blue sky,
Where comes no sickness, tears, or pains.
Has brought a bunch of garden flowers
To Eva, when she lies reclined
Through the bright summer's sultry hours.
For sickness hangs on Eva now,
She can no longer run or play,
Her cheek is pale, her voice is low,
And there she lies the livelong day.
Yet Eva does not fear to die,
She knows a better home remains
For her, beyond the great blue sky,
Where comes no sickness, tears, or pains.
TOPSY BRINGING FLOWERS TO EVA."Oh mother dear, let Topsy stay,"
Says Eva in her gentle mood,
"She brought such pretty flowers to-day,
Indeed she's trying to be good."
Says Eva in her gentle mood,
"She brought such pretty flowers to-day,
Indeed she's trying to be good."
For in her happier days of health
She read and prized her Bible true,
Above this poor world's pride or wealth,
And loved her blessed Saviour too.
And she like him was kind to all,
And pity on poor Topsy had,
Because the rest would scold and call
Her names, for being black and bad.
So Eva strove to make her good,
And told her, of all tales the best,
How Christ came down to shed his blood,
That sinners might be saved and blest.
Poor Topsy tried to understand—
None ever taught her so before—
And brought the sweet flowers in her hand,—
The negro girl could do no more.
But Eva's proud mamma comes in
With scornful look and frown severe,
She cries, "begone, you nasty thing!
In all the world what brings you here?"
"Oh mother dear, let Topsy stay,"
Says Eva in her gentle mood,
"She brought such pretty flowers to-day,
Indeed she's trying to be good."
"I'm going fast, where there will be
No difference, but in sins forgiven,
And mother it might chance that we
Would bring poor Topsy flowers in heaven."
She read and prized her Bible true,
Above this poor world's pride or wealth,
And loved her blessed Saviour too.
And she like him was kind to all,
And pity on poor Topsy had,
Because the rest would scold and call
Her names, for being black and bad.
So Eva strove to make her good,
And told her, of all tales the best,
How Christ came down to shed his blood,
That sinners might be saved and blest.
Poor Topsy tried to understand—
None ever taught her so before—
And brought the sweet flowers in her hand,—
The negro girl could do no more.
But Eva's proud mamma comes in
With scornful look and frown severe,
She cries, "begone, you nasty thing!
In all the world what brings you here?"
"Oh mother dear, let Topsy stay,"
Says Eva in her gentle mood,
"She brought such pretty flowers to-day,
Indeed she's trying to be good."
"I'm going fast, where there will be
No difference, but in sins forgiven,
And mother it might chance that we
Would bring poor Topsy flowers in heaven."
DEATH OF EVA.Oh, swift and sad were the tears that fell,
As her gifts among them passed,
And Tom, he got the first fair curl,
And Topsy got the last.
As her gifts among them passed,
And Tom, he got the first fair curl,
And Topsy got the last.
THE DEATH OF EVA.