I AM going to tell you a very sad story of a poor little African boy. But, first of all, I must tell you that we have no trains here in Africa, and when we want provisions we have to send black men to the coast for them. These men carry on their shoulders big loads of things that come out from England and Scotland for us here. They walk all this distance on their bare feet without hats, and with hardly any clothes on their bodies. There are many little boys that go with them to carry their food, and little earthen pots in which to cook it. Poor little fellows! They have a very hard life of it, walking and running, day after day, alongside of the men. I must tell you now what happened to one of these little boys. A number of men were coming along the road carrying loads for us, when they came upon a poor little black boy lying on the road nearly dead. He had a great big cut behind his ear, and was nearly wasted away almost like a skeleton. These men took him up and brought him here. Mr. Arnot says the blow behind the ear, would be given by some one intending to kill him. He might not be able to carry his load, and this is the way they would get rid of him. He is about ten years of age, poor wee fellow!
He knows nothing of a mother's love or a father's care, such as you boys and girls know, and he has never heard of Jesus, the One who gives rest to the weary and who is a Friend to the friendless. The man who found him could not get him to speak, and he was so afraid of us that if we went near him he began to cry. I went in to see him, and gave him a biscuit, which he took, but crept behind the man who brought him, quite afraid. Mr. Arnot wanted to keep him, that we might care for him, but he would not stay. He has gone with the man who will likely keep him until he grows bigger, and then he will sell him as a slave. Isn't it very sad to think of what this poor child may have to suffer. I went into the hut to see him before he went away. There he sat with his little black arms crossed, and put over his shoulders. When he saw me he began to cry, for fear that I would take him away. Poor little fellow! how one longs for the time when such as he should hear the story of Jesus' love, and of that glorious liberty which the Gospel brings. Will you, dear boys and girls who know Jesus, pray for the little slave boys and girls of Africa?
They have had a hard life of it. Parted often from their parents, and snatched away from their quiet village homes by slave dealers, then sold and carried far away to spend their remaining days in bitter slavery. Can you imagine anything more sad? I know of only one thing; that is, to be a slave of Satan. To be parted from God and Christ by sin, and to live and die in the service of Satan. Then at life's close to be parted from loved friends who are in Christ, never more to meet again. Dear children, Are any of you in this sad condition? If you are, do not remain in it any longer. Jesus longs to set you free, and to make you happy.