THE CHILDREN'S CORNER.

The Children's Corner.

the beautiful things which God Almighty has created and scattered all over the world, that we may admire them and praise Him-the great and wonderful Creator of them all. And especially, I hope, they will be thankful that they can read with their own eyes, right on, without stopping to feel the letters, that delightful book, which tells us how much the great and blessed God loved us all when he gave up Jesus Christ his own and only Son to come and suffer and die for our sins, that we through him might be forgiven and have everlasting life.

THE BLIND BOY AT PLAY.
BY ELIZA COOK.

THE blind boy's been at play, mother,
And merry games we had;
We led him on our way, mother,
And every step was glad.
But when we found a starry flower,
And praised its varied hue,

JACK, THE BLIND BOY.-As I the birds and the flowers-and all was one day leaving my home after breakfast to go to my place of business, I saw before me a youth dressed in a sailor's blue jacket and trowsers, who was walking along with a springing step by the side of a garden wall, his left hand extended feeling for the wall as he walked along. When I came up with him I soon knew him as a lad whom I had not seen for several years, and who, when a little boy, ran about in the street in which I then lived, and who, though blind, seemed to take delight in the company and play of other children. He then went by the name of "blind Jack," and the boys always treated him kindly. I began to talk with him and he remembered me. He said he had been for several years at a school for the blind at Liverpool, and was now wearing its dress. He had learned to make baskets and other things of wicker work, and could read the Testament, by feeling with his fingers the raised letters of the books for the blind. I talked to him a little longer about Jesus Christ opening the eyes of the blind, and about the light which he could shed upon his mind, which I was glad to find he seemed to understand. His manners too were very respectful and his language good; and he seemed much improved, for when he was a child in the street he was a rough and noisy little fellow. I could not help thinking when I left him, what a blessing is our eyesight, what a loss when we lose it, and what excellent institutions are schools for the blind. I hope all my little readers will be thankful to God that they can see -see the sun and the stars-see

A tear came trickling down his cheek,
Just like a drop of dew.

We took him to the mill, mother,
Where falling waters made
A rainbow o'er the rill, mother,

As golden sun-rays played.
But when we shouted at the scene,

And hailed the clear blue sky,
He stood quite still upon the bank,
And breathed a long, long sigh.
We asked him why he wept, mother,
Whene'er we found the spots
Where periwinkles crept, mother,
O'er wild forget-me-nots.

"Ah me!" he said, while tears ran down,
As fast as summer showers,
"It is because I cannot see

The sunshine and the flowers."
Oh, that poor sightless boy, mother,
Has taught me I am blest;
For I can look with joy, mother,
On all I love the best.
And when I see the dancing stream,
And daisies red and white,
I'll kneel upon the meadow sod,
And thank my God for sight.

SHERRY WILLIAMS.

TEN years ago, a coloured man, with an honest straight-forward countenance, and long dark hair, thinly striped with grey, walked irresolutely backwards and forwards before the window of a bookseller's shop in the city of Philadelphia. Now he paused for a moment to gaze wishfully at some richly bound bibles, just within the glass; now he waited without the halfopen door; and finally, as if any certainty were better than suspence, he entered. For several years this faithful christian had laid aside all he could spare from his scanty earnings, on what is called the "Eastern shore" of Maryland, in the hope of procuring for himself and his children a copy of the word of God.

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I know not by what strange providence it happened; but this coloured man knew how to read, and as he stood on that clear sunny morning, by the bookseller's side, and turned over the leaves of that long-desired volume, feeling that it cost more than he could spare, his heart ached, and the tear sprang to his always pensive eye. Come," said the bookseller, coaxingly, "you shall have it five cents lower, and I will throw in this hymn book." Sherry took the hymn book, and turned over its leaves. He caught the first lines of well-remembered hymns, and a glimpse of some short stories that his curly-headed boys would climb his knees to hear, One or two pictures decorated the book, and the innocent man, looking on a coarse cut of a slave, holding out his hand for the iron, and another of the overseer, with his cow-skin at his side, little thought that these plain representations of facts would be termed "libellous and insurrectionary" by the government under which he lived.

He forgot that he was in a free, and bound for a slave State; he thought only of his bible and his songs; and trusting to God to forgive his extravagance, he emptied his pockets and went away. The happy little faces that clustered about him on his return, banished all anxious thoughts of his improvidence.

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The hymn book came to be cherished like the bible. Often had he hummed his baby to sleep by the joyous carol of Canaan, happy Canaan." At night, it was carefully laid upon the shelf; but all day it nestled in the otherwise empty pockets of Sherry Williams, and full two years had now gone by without his ever missing the money it had cost. He was by trade a mason; and on another bright and gorgeous morning, with a

SHERRY WILLIAMS.

far lighter heart than that with which he had waited at the bookseller's, Sherry threw his hod over his shoulder, and taking his trowel in his hand, started for a neighbouring farm-house, where his services were wanted. He threw his jacket over the settle, and climbed up the spacious chimney of the old kitchen. While he was proceeding with his repairs, he heard the full sweet voice of Dinah, the cook, singing what he called "spiritual songs," below; and his work speeding all the lighter for this accompaniment, he was soon down again. To his surprise, his favourite book was gone; but Dinah, who had spied a corner of it peeping from his pocket, soon came to relieve his suspense, to beg him to stay to dinner, and read her some of the pretty hymns, which she had not the learning to spell out. "Yes," said Sherry, "if you will sing me one of those sweet songs that made my heart dance while I was up in the chimney, I will read you all I know." Dinah promised; while Sherry ate, she sang, and when they had finished, he opened his dear book. While they were both bending over its pages, a son of the master of the house, a young country lawyer, came lounging in.

A glance sufficed to reveal to the white man the character of the book, and he begged to borrow it of Sherry, who, smothering his love for its worn pages, unhesitatingly complied with the request. Sherry, be it understood, was a free man, and after waiting a reasonable number of weeks, he went to the lawyer's office for his book. The pettifogger put him off to an hour which he named. Sherry went again, and found him- ' self in the power of the sheriff; his book, indeed, in his pocket, but manacles on his free hands. He was torn from wife and children, and carried to Baltimore to be tried. Fifteen witnesses testified, upon the trial, that Sherry was honest, pious, industrious, and content; he had never been heard to complain; was the last man in the world to create an excitement. In short, nothing could be proved against him, but the fact that such a hymn book was in his possession. Weeping children and a heart-stricken wife surrounded him; but their tears flowed in vain, and made no impression on the heart of the judge. The law had taken hold, and it would not retract. The statute, under which he was convicted, sentences the coloured man, who shall be found with an incendiary publication in his possession, to an imprisonment in the penitentiary of not more than twenty, nor less than ten years.

In consideration of the evidence to character, adduced upon his trial, poor Sherry was sentenced to ten. The pettifogging

SHERRY WILLIAMS.

lawyer was satisfied; and the miserable family of the prisoner begged their way back home. I have forgotten how many children Williams had, but I am sure it was a round dozen, and the oldest boy was the only one able to help himself. God help him, poor man, as he climbs those prison steps, and feels their little hands turning round his heart! but Sherry knew his duty, and was faithful to what was given him to do. Every one in the building loved him; and when I saw him six years after his imprisonment, he had risen, so said the overseer, to be the head baker of the establish:nent. In the meantime, his friends had not been idle. New England blood had boiled as it listened to his story, and scores of Baltimore merchants signed, once and again, a petition to the governor in his behalf. The last effort was founded on his exemplary conduct during the six years of his imprisonment, and was presented to a new governor, just after he had taken his chair, and while his heart, it was thought, would be inclined to mercy. Alas! how far were the petitioners mistaken! He was a little man, and measured all things by a little standard. "Gentlemen," said he, "if I were to take any action in this matter, in the present state of the public mind, a favourite though I am, I should be impeached!" And there the matter ended; till it was carried to a higher court, and the governor became defendant.

This happened just before my first arrival in Baltimore, two years ago. I went to see Sherry, whose tall frame had bent, and whose dark hair had whitened all over during those six painful years. He was busy at his oven, his apron was white with flour, and he seemed only intent on serving the hungry men about him; but, deeply engraven on his fine manly features was a look of unsatisfied anxiety that I shall never forget. Once only, during those six years, had he heard from his home; for neither he nor his children could write; and that once, by dint of miserly thrift, his oldest son had made the long journey, and brought him welcome tidings of health, and peace, about his hearth. His hymn book, of course, had been taken from him; but his bible, was his only companion in his cell. As I looked upon the grey-haired man, and saw his lip quiver, as he spoke of his family, my heart throbbed almost to bursting, and I determined that something should be done to relieve him. Once and again my husband had communicated with influential persons concerning him; but all who knew anything of the matter, more especially the intimate personal friends of the governor, declared that all proper means had been tried; but

SHERRY WILLIAMS.

one resource was left him, calmly to wear out the remaining part of his sentence; the government had determined to pardon no persons convicted on such counts. So I desisted; but often since, when I would have closed my eyes for a night's rest, has the image of that injured man, grey-haired and stooping, come between me and sleep, and the tears have started to my eyes, as I regretted that I did not present that petition in my single woman's strength.

There were two things which made Sherry's case seem peculiarly hard. The first was that uniform testimony to his probity and excellence of character which prevented slaveholders themselves from doubting his account of the manner in which he obtained the book; and the other was the fact, that the statute which made it criminal to hold it, did not become a law till Sherry had had it full two years in his possession, and he was as ignorant of the statute itself as he was of any sinister interpretation which the government of Maryland might choose to put upon plain representations of facts. But two years of imprisonment remain to him, and doubtless he prays more and more earnestly that life may be spared, till he shall gaze once more upon his precious family circle. Alas! he will find her whom he loved bent under the sense of degradation, the weight of unusual cares, and the pressure of poverty. He will hardly know her sunken eye and anxious brow. The babe who was unconscious of his fate, will have grown to the active boy; the girls who clustered about his knee, will be wives, perhaps mothers; and God grant that none of that dear circle may have been sold into servitude to pay the poll tax or secure the livelihood of the rest. Yet this and more things might have been in those long ten years. However joyful the return, Sherry will see with pain that the hours when he was needed in his house have passed by: principles are already decided for his children; and if they could not read the language in which their bible is written before he went away, they probably never will.

I have written this history without comment, simply as it occurred. It seems to me that an expression of strong indignation would weaken what is contained in these pages. Let the story dwell in our hearts. A system, which, to sustain itself, thus tramples on human rights, so surely as God is true, contains within itself the seeds of its own death.

Such is slavery-American slavery. In this "old country" of England we may have, and we have, many things we dont