THE LITTLE SLAVE’S WISH.

I wish I was that little bird
Up in the bright blue sky,
That sings and flies just where he will,
And no one asks him why.

I wish I was that little brook
That runs so swift along,
Through pretty flowers, and shining stones,
Singing a merry song.

    I wish I was a butterfly,
      Without a fear or care,
    Spreading my many-colored wings,
      Like a flower in the air.

    I wish I was that wild, wild deer,
      That I saw the other day,
    Who through the dark green forest flew,
      Like an arrow far away.

    I wish I was that little cloud
      By the gentle south-wind driven,
    Floating along so calm and bright
      Up to the gates of heaven.

    I’d rather be a savage beast,
      And dwell in a gloomy cave,
    And shake the forest when I roared,
      Than what I am,—­a slave.

    My mother calls me her good boy,
      My father calls me brave;
    What wicked action have I done
      That I should be a slave?

    They tell me God is very good. 
      That his right arm can save;
    O, is it, can it, be his will
      That I should be a slave?

    O, how much better ’tis to die,
      And lie down in the grave,
    Than ’tis to be what I am now,—­
      A little negro slave!

[Illustration]

FABLES.

THE HONEST BIRD.

    Once on a time, a little bird
    Within a wicker cage was heard,
    In mournful tones, these words to sing:—­
    “In vain I stretch my useless wing;
    Still round and round I vainly fly,
    And strive in vain for liberty. 
    Dear liberty, how sweet thou art!”
    The prisoner sings, with breaking heart:—­
    “All other things I’d give for thee,
    Nor ask one joy but liberty.”

    He sang so sweet, a little mouse,
    Who often ran about the house,
    Came to his cage; her cunning ear
    She turned, the mournful bird to hear. 
    Soon as he ceased,—­“Suppose,” said she,
    “I could contrive to set you free;
    Would you those pretty wings give me?”

    The cage was in the window-seat,
    The sky was blue, the air was sweet. 
    The bird with eagerness replied,—­
    “O, yes! my wings, and see, beside,
    These seeds and apples, sugar, too,
    All, pretty mouse, I’ll give to you,
    If you will only set me free;
    For, O, I pant for liberty!”

    The mouse soon gnawed a hole; the bird,
    In ecstasy, forgot his word;
    Swift as an arrow, see, he flies,
    Far up, far up, towards the skies;
    But see, he stops, now he descends,
    Towards the cage his course he bends. 
    “Kind mouse,” said he, “behold me now