Anti-slavery bugle. [volume] (New-Lisbon, Ohio) 1845-1861, 1853-02-26
Children's Rights.
ny FANNY FERN.

Mems Rights woman's Rights throw
down the gauntlet for Chiidern's Rights Yos,
little pets Fanny Ferns about "takin' notes."
and she'll "print 'em, too," If you don't get
your dues. She has seen you seated by
pleasant window, in railroad car, with youi
bright eyes dancing with delight, at the pros
poet of all the pretty things you were going
to sse, forcibly elected by somp oyergrown Ma
poleon, who fancicd your place, and thought in
his wisdom that children had no taste for any
thing but sugar candy Fanny Fern knew
better. She knew that the pretty trees, and
flowers, and bright blue sky gave your little
soul thrill of delight, though you could not
tell why and she knew that great big mans
soul was a great deal smaller than.yours, to sit
there and read stupid political paper, when
such glowing landsca pc was before him that
he might have fcasted his eyes upon. And
she longed to wipe away the big tear that you
didn't dare to let fall and she understood how
little girl or boy that didn't get ride EVERY
day in the year should not be quite abIe to
swallow that great big lump In the throat, as
he or she sat jammcd down in dark crowded
corner of the car, instead of setting by that
pleasant window.
Yes, and Fanny has seen you som ctimcs
when you've been mufled up to the tip of your
little nose in woollen wrappers, in close,
crowded church, nodding your little drowsy
heads, and keeping time to tho sixth-he and
scvcnth-He Of some pompous thcologian, whose
preaching would have been high Dutch to you,
had you been wide awake.
! And she has seen you sitting like little auto
nations, in badly ventilated sehool.Ioom,
with your nervous little toes at just such nm an
gle, for hours under the tuition OF Miss
I Nancy Nippcr, who didn't care rush-ight
whether your spine was so crooked as the let
ter s or not, if the Great MogW Committee,
who marched in once month to make the
"grand tour" voted her model school mdrn." ="
! Yes, and that aiat aM She has seen you
sent off to bed, just at the Nitching hour Of
oandln-light, when some entertaining guest
was in the middle of delightful story, that
you. poor, miserable "littlo pitcher was doom
ca never 10 near inc cH0 Ol lcS, anu sne mas
seen ''the line and plummet" laid to you so
rigidly, that you were driven to deceit and eva
sion; and then seen you punished for the very
sin your tormcntors helped you to commit
And she has seen your ears boxed Just as hard
for tearing hole in yoar best pinNfore, or
breaking a china cup, as for telling as big lilo
as Ananias and Sapphira did.
And when, by patient labor, you had rear cd
an cdiRcc of tiny blocks (fairer in its architcc-
tural proportions to your iuiantlc eye than any
palace in ancient Romeo she has seen it ruth
lessly kicked into shattered ruin by some
body in tho house whose dinner hadn't di-
gcstcd!
Never mind. I oish I ras mother TO Tho
,ehole Of you! Such glorious times as wed
have Reading pretty books that had no Big
,cords in EN-; going to school where you coult
snecze without getting a rap on the head fo
not asking ieare first and going to church oil
the quiet, blessed Sabbath. where the minister
like the dear Saviour, SOMETIMES remembered
to stake iHie crildren in his arms, and blcs
them"
Then il you asked me question, wouldn'
pretend not to hear or lazily tell you /"
didn't know" or turn You off with some fabu
ious evasion, for your momory to chew for
cud till you were old enough to see how yo
had been fooled. And I'd never wear such
fashionable gown, that you couldn't climb o
my lap whenever the 6t took YOU; or refus
to kiss you for fear you'd ruilic my ourls G
my collar, or my tcmper-not bit of it an
then you should pay me with your mcrr
laugh, and your little conGding hand slid cyt
trustingly in mine.
Oh I tell you, my little pets, Fanny is sic
of din, and strife, and envy. and unchantablC
ness and I'd rather. by ten thousand live
to little world full of fresh, guileless, loving Ii
tie childron, than in this great museum full
such dry, dusty, rithered hearts. Olire Branc