dismal look,"
Nor why my "falling tears,"
Such wrongs, what human heart can brook?
No hope for me appears.

The Slave Boy's Wish.

BY ELIZA LEE FOLLEN.

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 that butterfly,
Without a thought or care;
Sporting my pretty, brilliant wings,
Like a flower in the air.

I wish I was that wild, wild deer,
I saw the other day;
Who swifter than an arrow flew,
Through the forest far away.

I wish I was that little cloud,
By the gentle south wind driven;
Floating along, so free and bright,
Far, far up into heaven.

I'd rather be a cunning fox,
And hide me in a cave;
I'd rather be a savage wolf,
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.

I saw my little sister sold,
So will they do to me;
My Heavenly Father, let me die,
For then I shall be free.

THE BEREAVED FATHER.

Words by Miss Chandler. Music by G.W.C.

[Music]

Ye've gone from me, my gentle ones!
With all your shouts of mirth;
A silence is within my walls,
A darkness round my hearth,
A darkness round my hearth.

Woe to the hearts that heard, unmoved,
The mother's anguish'd shriek!
And mock'd, with taunting scorn, the tears
That bathed a father's cheek.

Woe to the hands that tore you hence,
My innocent and good!
Not e'en the tigress of the wild,
Thus tears her fellow's brood.

I list to hear your soft sweet tones,
Upon the morning air;
I gaze amidst the twilight's gloom,
As if to find you there.

But you no more come bounding forth
To meet me in your glee;
And when the evening shadows fall,
Ye are not at my knee.

Your forms are aye before my eyes,
Your voices on my ear,
And all things wear a thought of you,
But you no more are here.

You were the glory of my life,
My blessing and my pride!
I half forgot the name of slave,
When you were by my side!

Woe for your lot, ye doom'd ones! woe
A seal is on your fate!
And shame, and toil, and wretchedness,
On all your steps await!

SLAVE GIRL MOURNING HER FATHER.

Parodied from Mrs. Sigourney by G.W.C.

[Music]

They say I was