Produced by Jason Isbell and the Online Distributed Proofreaders Team at https://www.pgdp.net, with special thanks to K.D. Thornton for cleaning up the illustrations. THE ANTI-SLAVERY ALPHABET. * * * * * "In the morning sow thy seed." * * * * * PHILADELPHIA: PRINTED FOR THE ANTI-SLAVERY FAIR. 1847. Merrihew & Thompson, Printers, 7 Carter's alley. TO OUR LITTLE READERS. Listen, little children, all, Listen to our earnest call: You are very young, 'tis true, But there's much that you can do. Even you can plead with men That they buy not slaves again, And that those they have may be Quickly set at liberty. They may hearken what _you_ say, Though from _us_ they turn away. Sometimes, when from school you walk, You can with your playmates talk, Tell them of the slave child's fate, Motherless and desolate. And you can refuse to take Candy, sweetmeat, pie or cake, Saying "no"--unless 'tis free-- "The slave shall not work for me." Thus, dear little children, each May some useful lesson teach; Thus each one may help to free This fair land from slavery. A A is an Abolitionist-- A man who wants to free The wretched slave--and give to all An equal liberty. B B is a Brother with a skin Of somewhat darker hue, But in our Heavenly Father's sight, He is as dear as you. C C is the Cotton-field, to which This injured brother's driven, When, as the white-man's _slave_, he toils, From early morn till even. D D is the Driver, cold and stern, Who follows, whip in hand, To punish those who dare to rest, Or disobey command. E E is the Eagle, soaring high; An emblem of the free; But while we chain our brother man, _Our_ type he cannot be. F F is the heart-sick Fugitive, The slave who runs away, And travels through the dreary night, But hides himself by day. G G is the Gong, whose rolling sound, Before the morning light, Calls up the little sleeping slave, To labor until night. H H is the Hound his master trained, And called to scent the track Of the unhappy Fugitive, And bring him trembling back. I I is the Infant, from the arms Of its fond mother torn, And, at a public auction, sold With horses, cows, and corn. J J is the Jail, upon whose floor That wretched mother lay, Until her cruel master came, And carried her away. K K is the Kidnapper, who stole That little child and mother-- Shrieking, it clung around her, but He tore them from each other. L