FRIENDS OF FREEDOM. "It is said that the evil spirytes that ben in the regyon, doubte moche when they here the Bells rongen : and this is the cause why the Bells ben rongen, whan grete tempeste and outrages of wether happen, to the end that the fiends and wycked spirytes should be abashed and flee. The Golden Legend, by Wynkyn de Words. BOSTON: MASSACHUSETTS ANTI-SLAVERY FAIR. MDCCCXLVI. Boston : Andrews, Prentiss & Studley, No. 11 Devonshire Street. A I i-t, * A Fragment, .... Onward ! Right Onward ! The True Reformer, . . ' '.' GEORGE THOMPSON. WILLIAM HOWITT. WILLIAM P. ATKINSON. 1 7 1-2 1!) A Parable, . THEODORE PARKER. at The Poet of Miletus, . HENRY W. LONGFELLOW. gj - Fugitive Slaves in Northern Ohio, J. R. CIDDIXGS. 77 Our Country, .... ....> . ANONYMOUS. :',7 Thought, . . SUSAN C. CABOT.. 40 Interference, .... . A CLERGYMAN. 47 AH are Needed, . . . JA NE ELIZABETH HITCHCOCK. 50 -">! Letter, THOMAS CLARKSOX. SB Song, for the Friends of Freedom, ELIZA LEE FOLLEN. 65 A Communication, . HARRIET MARTINEAtT. '& Our Duty, BENJAMIN 3. JONES. 72 Extract from a Speech, . SAMUEL J. MAT. 73 Sonnets, GEORGE THOMPSON. 77 The Liberty Bell, . S. MARGARET FULLER. 80 A Fragment, .... JANE E. HORNBLOWER. 89 Pro-Slavery Appeal, JAMES HAUGHTON. :)3 Jubilee, . . . ; ALLEN C. SPOONER. 103 Discouragements and Incentives, Stanzas, . ALLEN C. SPOONER. :o7 117 vi CONTENTS. A Vision of the Fathers, .... JOHN w. BROWNE. 120 A Remonstrance, ALARIC A. WATTS. 131 The Dream within a Dream, E. LEE. 134 Think of the Slave, . . . . . JOHN BOWRING. 144 Self-Denial, WILLIAM H. FDRNESS. 146 ..Fight On! WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON. 165 Some Passages from the Poetry of Life, . MART HOWITT. 166 'Sonnet Character, . . WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON. 184' The Church WENDELL PHILLIES. 185 Lines to Trans-Atlantic Friends, , . DANIEL RICKKTSON. 192 Recollections of Anti-Slavery at the West, c. M. KIRKLAND. 195 PhffibeMallory; the Last of the Slaves, . EDMUND O.UINCY. 204 , The Falconer, j. R, LOWELL. 241 \r Is there any Friend ? . ADIN BALLOU. 245 The Slave-Mother, MARIA LOWELL. 250 What is Anti-Slavery Work ? . . LUCRETIA MOTT. 253' " God and Liberty," CASSIUS M. CLAY.- 258 - Influence de 1'emigration Europeenne, . . LINSTANT. 260 Sonnet in Memory of Elizabeth Fry, ANNE WARREN WESTON. 264 The Worst Evil of Slavery, . . . WILLIAM HOWITT: 265 Jrcujnunt, VERBATIM ET LITERATIM FROM MY JOURNAL IN UPPER INDIA. BY GEORGE THOMPSON. AROUL, Upper India, ) Tuesday, July 4, 1843, 5 o'clock, A. M. J I AM now forty miles from Cawnpore, and so much nearer to the imperial city of Delhi, I have had my early cup of tea, and am sit- ting on the outside of the bungalow, with my book upon my knee, and my inkstand on the 1 2 EXTRACT FROM JOURNAL ground. How delightful was my journey, from the time I started from Cawnpore, twelve hours ago, until it grew dark. The recent rain made the air truly delicious. On the outside of the station I passed through a large native bazaar, belonging to the two regiments of se- poys now at Cawnpore. I was soon in the open country. How beautiful the evening! How gorgeous the sky after the rain ! Vapors more lovely than the unclouded sky, With golden pinnacles and snowy mountains, And billows purpler than the ocean's, making In heaven a glorious mockery of the earth ! I have enjoyed no part of my journey more than this. Thanks to the young officer at Benares, who would make me accept a copy of Byron's works. I have been feasting upon the contents of Murray's splendid volume ever since. As long as I could see, I sat up in my palankeen reading the magnificent tragedy of Sardanapalus, ever and anon pausing to gaze IN TIPPER INDIA. upon the scene around me. Though accom- panied by more than twenty men, noisily gabbling or rudely singing in panting and groaning accents to the motion of the palan- keen, yet I felt myself alone. The sepoy passes and makes his reverential salaam. The Hindoo woman, all grace and serenity, averts her face, draws her veil over her head and pursues her way. We stop at the well that the thirsty bearers may have water. I leave my palankeen for a few moments, that I may survey the scene. The shepherd boy is driv- ing home his flock, lingering at intervals while the sheep or the goats crop the green blades that lie scattered in their path. Beneath yon far-spreading trees are groups of travellers, who have lighted their evening fires, and are kneading cakes for supper. The horses are tethered, the bullocks are unyoked, and there stands the sagacious elephant, making a hearty meal of jungle grass. Swarms of Pariah dogs 4 EXTRACT FROM JOURNAL are hovering round. We are again upon the road. The fires we have left behind are faint- ly glimmering in the distance. The solitary jackal is furtively stealing across the field for the adjacent jungle. Parrots in myriads are winging their way to their roosting place. The frogs are hoarsely croaking in every ditch. The stately adjutant is standing alone in the centre of the pool lately made by the rain. The glorious sun is sinking fast. He is gone, and the crescent moon has taken his place. The fourth of July! My mind is carried back to the scenes of 1835. How vivid they are. It seems but yesterday that I stood in the chapel at Providence, Rhode Island, and de- livered my address against American slavery. O, how I love America ! Nothing can exceed my affection for that country save my deep abhorrence of her slavery. Let me speak to her from this lonely spot : IN UPPER INDIA. And canst thou, America, say thou art free, With the scourge in thy hand and the slave on his knee? And canst thou in words of self-flattery deal, While in flesh thou canst traffic, and plunder and steal ? Thou art free ; yet in fetters the vilest and worst : Thou art free, but still slave to thy passions accurst : Thou art free to do well, but hast sold unto sin That power, which used nobly, a world's praise might win. Thou art free ; but thy freedom hath steeped thee in crime, And given thee a stain that will linger through time ; Thou hast freedom abused, thou hast bound it to guilt That freedom for which thy sires' hearts' blood was spilt. That power which thy freedom so bravely achieved, Should the fetter have broken the captive relieved ; But thou basely hast used it to rivet a chain On the sons of the soil on the field of the slain. What has Liberty gained, then, by what thou hast won ? What gained, but disgrace, and a name she must shun ? Thy freedom is selfish, and cruel, and base A libel, a scorn, and a curse to thy race ! 1* 6 EXTRACT FROM JOURNAL. On this day thou wilt talk of the chains thou hast worn; While around thee three millions in slavery mourn. Thou wilt rail at the nation that held thee in thrall ; Then banquet in many a slave crowded hall. The nation whose fetters thou long since hast spurned, Has to penitence, mercy, and righteousness turned ; Whilst thou in thy vauntings, hast lived till this day, To make men in God's image thy spoil and thy prey. But, let not my censure descend upon those Who cease not from labor who ask no repose While their brethren in bondage continue to groan And for liberty, silently, helplessly moan. This day is, with them, one of fasting and prayer : They are stricken with anguish, and burdened with care: They pity the slave, and the man, in his pride, Who of liberty boasts, with that slave by his side. Ye martyr-like spirits ! who, firm to your vow, Have not fainted through years, and are bold even now; Take courage ! for soon shall the Liberty Bell, Sound the advent of freedom, and slavery's knell. ONWARD ! RIGHT ONWARD ! ! Huj!)t (Dnroarfo! BY W I L 1 1 AM H O W I T T . A little onward lend thy guiding hand To these dark steps, a little further on MILTON. ONWARD ! a little on ! Oh ceaseless language of our restless lot ! Yes ! till we hence are gone, Onward we press and hope we know not what. Onward, right onward still ! For what ? To dream, to trifle, to grow cold? To lose life's first pure thrill, And alienate hearts for unsufficing gold ? To run the petty round Of petty wants, of labor and of ease ? To pant for glory's sound, And scorn the crowd we perish e'en to please ? 8 ONWARD ! EIGHT ONWARD ! To be what most we shun ? All that we fear to feel, or loathe to find ? To yield up, one by one, Life's gifts, strength, beauty, mastership of mind? Oh no ! for somewhat more ! Quick Power who still criest " On, through fire or flood ! " Dwell in my spirit's core, For He who sent thee glorious is and good. Speed on ! 't is not in vain ! Knowledge and boundless love are on thy wing. Are we not taught through pain That man's frail heart is still a holy thing ? Life comes but once on earth ; But once is given the battle's glorious field Where we may prove our birth Is godlike, and for God lift spear and shield. ONWARD ! EIGHT ONWARD ! For God and brother man May lift the shield and fight the holy fight Which Christ himself began, And hero-saints have waged for the right. Here sits the slave in chains ; Here cry the oppressed, and here the oppres- sor stalks Proudly abroad, and stains With crime the earth where suffering virtue walks. And 'tis for this we live ! To smite the oppressor with the words of power : To bid the tyrant give Back to his brother heaven's allotted hour. To raise, to unloose ; to rend Sorrows and bonds from spirit and from limb ; To call on God, and spend The day he gives, for Freedom and for Him ! 10 ONWARD ! RIGHT ONWARD ! And doing this we die ! Done or undone, he conies who never waits : Down drops the day, and high Lift themselves up the broad, eternal gates. And there the expectant throng The great, the immortal throng of those who win Glory from vanquished wrong, Crowd to the porch, and watch our entrance in. And eagerly they ask " Where is thy trophy now thy fight is o'er ? One trial and one task How hast thou stood where thou canst stand And there is joy, or tears And a deep silence, o'er a frustrate life ; O'er vainly-given years ; A soul unhonored in the mortal strife. Then on ! for this we live ! To smite th' oppressor with the words of power : ONWARD ! EIGHT ONWARD! 11 To bid the tyrant give Back to his brother heaven's allotted hour. And thou, oh God of love ! " A little onward lend thy guiding hand ! " Oh ! stretch it from above, That giant-like we for the right may stand ! May stand, and to the death Dare tyranny in million-marching hosts, And shout with dauntless breath Defiance to his curses and his boasts. Then onward ! till the veil Of the unknown eternity be rent. There shall no promise fail ; There the true soul reap measureless content. And most of all in this That it shall see how surely all things tend To Freedom's victories How men may fall, but God lives to the end. Clapton, England. 12 THE TRITE REFORMER. Stye tote Heformo;. BY WILLIAM P. ATKINSON. THE true Reformer is the man upon whose mind the light of great truths has fallen before it has reached the mass of his fellow-men, and who feels called of God to shed it abroad into the darkness. Is this a presumptuous definition ? The man who does not yet realize the darkness, who still yields to the authority of antiquated error, who is not strong enough in his own convictions to stand firmly up before all the power of numbers, the dignity of great names, and the false brightness with which society gilds her errors, who cannot meet even the wise and great of his opponents, and hi all modesty, but with all firmness, though he be an humble man, tell them of their blindness ; THE TRUE REFORMER. 13 he who cannot do this, is not himself reform- ed. For there is something enlightening, as well as strengthening and ennobling in the conscientious holding of unpopular truth. He who from his heart believes it, that it is of God, and most precious to his brethren, though they will not receive it, his eyes are unsealed to the reality of things ; he can no longer be cheated by their surface. In the clear light of high principle, all things take their real shape, and appear to him in true proportions. The palaces of pride dwindle to insignificance, the venerable garb drops from consecrated errors, authority becomes an idle word, and the rulers of the world, brute force and cunning intellect, take their true place, the servants of moral power. He sees through the great shows that are all about him, and can understand how one can chase a thousand and two put ten thousand to flight, and seeing this, he feels the dignity, 2 14 THE TRUE KEFORMER. the sacredness of his position. He will be slow to descend from the eminence whereon Truth has placed him, but in the face of her enemies he will speak her words, and then with pity, but without fear, will stand then- onset, knowing how feeble they are. Shall what has been said be modified be- cause the Reformer is a man, fallible and erring like his opponents? No, let it stand, for this does not change its truth. For he who " above himself does not erect himself," who through a pure life, and strenuous self-denial, and earnest prayer, does not for the time become infallible in his convictions, strong against the assaults even of his own weak- nesses, tempting him to doubt, he is not yet a true Reformer. True, he is a man, weak and finite ; but let him have put aside all selfish ends, purified his mind from that hatred and contempt of persons which even a righteous indignation may produce, elevated himself to THE TRUE REFORMER. 15 the dignity of a true lover of liis brethren, then in the depth of his conviction, he may say that here is a spark of truth which he has made his own. All other knowledge may be false; this is true; and he will feel within him the authority to declare it. He can hardly fail to reach the truth, who seeks it so. But yet, as he is a man, feeble and fallible, and as with his best convictions there must be some alloy of error, let him above all be humble; no thanksgiver that he is not as other men, no despiser of his brethren for their littleness and sin. Yet what is this but to say, let him be a Christian "The best of men That e'er wore earth about him was a sufferer, A soft, meek, patient, humble, tranquil spirit; The first true gentle-man that ever breathed." True, when he stands forth the champion of the oppressed, when he pours the truth into unwilling ears, when he rebukes the great in 16 THE TRUE REFORMER. high places, and stands in the face of danger, he is great, and he cannot but feel the dignity of his mission. But, alas for him ! he too is a man, and in the recesses of his heart there is that may well make him say, ' not unto me ! ' He will be humble then if he is truly strong. And true humility will set him above the proud, for there is a modest holding of the truth which no error can withstand. Let the knave, and the coward, and the weak darken counsel with many words ; they cannot bear one firm and simple answer. It is only the weak who boast of their strength; but the strength of the strong shows itself in every muscle and the slightest movement. How shall he treat his opponents? He cannot dwell forever in abstractions. How shall he not bear testimony against his broth- er's sin ? Men can afford to hear the praises of virtue and the rebuke of abstract vice, and their sins shall flourish none the less. Are THE TRUE REFORMER. 17 there not churches in the land ? But let him bring home the charge, say ' thou art the man,' call the devil Satan, his own countrymen men- stealers, their abettors false and time-servers, the preacher a blind guide and alas for him, be it never so true ! He has done but his duty, but fanatic and pestilent fellow shall be his mildest names, and persecution his reward. But let him not despair. He leads the world. Afar off, the tide of moral life swells up at his rebuke, and sooner or later all men shall follow him. How will he look upon the future ? With- out fear and with a firm trust, for he can see into the truth of things, how weak, for all its show, is error, how baseless, though seeming never so strong, are all institutions that are not founded in eternal right. Noiselessly shall true religion pervade the world, finding a home in more and more true hearts, daily increasing the army of the good, wiping away 2* 18 THE TRUE REFORMER. the stains of evil, healing the wounds it makes, till the world shall change, we know not how. Her visible and startling effects are the smallest part of her good work : her strong- est influence is secret The evil customs of society, supported by authority, dignified by age, seeming so firm fixed that time cannot move them, shall vanish at her touch, like a baseless vision, and then shall appear the new heavens and the new earth that once existed only in the Reformer's dream. West Roxbury, Massachusetts, U. S. SONNET TO W. L. GARRISON. 19 TO WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON. BY J. W. HIGGINSON. 'Tis not that deeds like thine need my poor praise, When, though commending not each word of strife, I yet would thank thee for thy manly life, Thou rugged Luther of these latter days : Oh when will men look through thine ardent phrase To the true depth of that devoted heart, Where selfish hope or fear had never part To swerve thee, with the crowd, from Truth's plain ways ! When that day comes, thy brothers, wiser grown, 20 SONNET TO W. L. GARRISON. Shall reverence struggling man's true friend in thee, Thy life of stern devotion shall atone, For some few words that seemed too rough to be, And they shall grave upon thy funeral stone " THIS MAN SPOKE TRUTH AND HELPED US TO GROW FREE." Cambridge, Massachusetts, U. S. A PAEABLE. 21 % parable. BY THEODORE PARKER. WHEN Ishmael was a young man, mother- less and an outcast, with no wife, nor child nor friend he rode on his only camel laden with dates and corn, a few figs and ripe olives, cummin and precious seeds, journeying alone through the desert to the fair of Shurat. But his camel died in the wilderness ; and for many a day's journey did he wander on, bare- foot and hungry, a ruined man, leaving his corn, his seeds, and all his fortune to perish there. " This place is accursed and God hath forsaken me," said Ishmael ; and he called the name thereof Me-au-rer ; " for it BRINGETH A CURSE," said he. The sun burnt him ; his lips were parched with thirst he could not speak yet 22 A PARABLE. he died not, but reached at last the hospitable tent of Joktan. Years passed on. Ishmael became a patri- arch, rich, the father of many strong ones. He travelled once again, in old age, with his wives and his children and his children's children men servants, and maidens, and a multitude of camels an exceeding great company, cross- ing the desert to go into the land of the Sa- beans to die there. And lo, the hot wind of the desert came upon them ; the water dried up in their leathern bottles. They were like to perish of thirst. The young men and the maidens cried in their agony towards God. The old men bowed themselves and were silent, awaiting the stroke of the Lord. The moan of the strong camels it was terrible to hear, as they wandered, crying unto God for lack of drink. A day's journey of despair they travelled on, and came to a green forest with date-trees A PARABLE. 23 and corn, figs and olives, green grass and a running well. They sat down and were re- freshed yea they drank and their hearts lived once more within them. But as Ishmael, now heavy with years, slept after his fatigue, at noonday, behold that same angel who had appeared and led Hagar to the well in the desert the WELL OP GOD'S SEEING ME came and stood before him in his sleep and said, " Son of Abraham, rememberest thou thy camel that perished?" And Ishmael awoke, for he remembered it was here ! He saw that out of the corn, the dates, the few figs, the ripe olives, the cummin, and the precious seeds, so providentially lost, this cluster of fruit trees had arisen, and these fields of grass and corn. He blessed God, and said, " Were it not for the misfortune of my youth, I had been ruined in my old age, and this great people with me. "Wonderful are the ways of the Lord ! " 24 A PARABLE. And he called the name of the place Kol-Ma- as-eh-El for he said it is ALL GOD'S WORK. And there Ishmael rested from his labors and his tomb is there unto this day. West-Roxbury, Massachusetts, U. S. THE POET OF MILETUS. 25 (&[)* $oet of Jfliktti0. BY HENRY W. LONGFELLOW. IN ancient days, when in the Ionian land, The poet of Miletus, unto whom The Ephesians gave three thousand golden pieces For singing them one song, desired to add Four chords unto the seven-chorded lyre, That he might give a more complete expression To all the feelings struggling at his heart, He was forbidden by the popular vote. This happened some three centuries before Christ ! Here, too, the popular voice forbids the poet To add a single chord unto his lyre, Although he takes no gold from the Ephesians, 26 THE POET OF MILETUS. And would but give an utterance move com- plete To all the voices of humanity, Even the swart Ethiop's inarticulate woe. And this is eighteen centuries after Christ ! Cambridge, Massachusetts, U. S. FUGITIVE SLAVES. 27 Qicwts in 3for%rn (Dljto. BY J. R. GIDDINGS. IT was on a pleasant evening in the month of May, A. D. 1840, just as the sun had sunk from view, when the laborers were returning from their fields, that a husband, wife, and two children on foot, with wearied steps were seen entering the village of - in northern Ohio. The oldest child was a lad of some fourteen, the other a daughter apparently two years his junior. Each carried a small bundle of what appeared to be clothing. From their dusky complexions, their anxious countenances, and their tattered dresses it was apparent that they were fleeing from the land of bondage. The people of the village were noted for their sympathy for the down-trodden slave. It 28 FUGITIVE SLAVES was known for hundreds of miles as an asylum for the panting fugitive. The friends of humanity would direct his course to this, as a place of safety from the rapacious slave-holder, and the despicable slave-catcher. These facts were also known to the owners of slaves in Virginia and Kentucky. When they once learned that their locomotive property had directed its course to this village, they usually gave up the pursuit altogether, or came hither for it without further inquiry, hoping that by some means they might succeed in arresting their victims even in this citadel of liberty. So on the present occasion, the owner of the family to which I have introduced the reader, having found that the objects of his pursuit had bent their course directly for the village in question, made no further stop for inquiry, but with his two assistants drove with all possible speed to the very place where the fugitive family had believed themselves safe from his IN NORTHERN OHIO. 29 fangs. In the mean time, the father, mother, and their little ones, on their first arrival were welcomed to the house of a well-known friend of humanity, and, after being duly refreshed, were conducted in the darkness of the evening to a neighboring house to lodge. This was done to prevent all trace of their whereabouts. But it so happened that even here, there were those whose tender sympathies are all in favor of the slaveholder, and are ready at all times to advocate the right of the oppressor to his property, in the bodies of their fellow-men. One of these had watched the movements of the friends of humanity, and when the slave- holder and his assistants arrived, at one or two o'clock the next morning, they found him in the road, ready, for a small compensation, to con- duct them to the building in which the fugitive family were sleeping. Throwing him two or three dollars, without alighting, they desired him to point out the dwelling where the slaves 30 FUGITIVE SLAVES might be found. Gathering up the price of his perfidy, without any farther remark he passed on before them, and stopping, silently pointed them to the door, and then, as if con- scious of his guilt, disappeared and hid himself from view in his own bed-room. One of the slave-hunters remained with their horses, as if conscious that their property was not safe in a land where a man could be hired to betray his fellow-man ; while the other two, with pistols and bowie-knives in hand, entered the dwell- ing and demanded their slaves. Thus sud- denly aroused from their slumbers, the inmates were dismayed at the loud threats with which they were saluted. They regarded escape as impossible, and suffered themselves to be seized and bound, and in less time than I have occupied in relating these facts, they were on their way toward a land of bondage. I will leave my readers to imagine the horror of these parents as they were thus compelled to turn IN NORTHERN OHIO. 31 their footsteps towards the scene of their former degradation, and, in contemplation, to behold themselves and children sold to the far South, destined to drag out a miserable exist- ence upon the cotton or sugar plantations of Mississippi or Louisiana. But the news of their escape spread rapidly through the village. There were, at the time of which we speak, several families of colored people residing there. Some of these had worn the galling chains of slavery, and all had witnessed its horrors. Some fifteen or twenty colored men and boys suddenly collected together, and some of them, in the excitement of the moment, armed themselves with guns, pistols and other weapons. A proposition to pursue the menstealers was made ; and, as if actuated by one common impulse, all immedi- ately started at full speed after their captured brethren. 32 FUGITIVE SLAVES The slave -catchers, with their captives, had not proceeded more than three or four miles before they were overtaken by the colored people ; and from the excitement apparent among them, and from their menacing tones, judged it prudent to seek safety in the first house which they could reach. Here they entered with their captives, and barring the door, threatened death to the first colored man who should enter. The house was immedi- ately surrounded, guards were posted, and a regular siege commenced. The night wore away, and when the morning dawned, it showed to the besieged a large increase in the number of their enemies, but it exhibited to them no prospect of escape. No white man appeared to lend them succor : and the exas- peration of the blacks appeared to increase with their numbers, and with the prospect of releas- ing their brethren from the grasp of their per- secutors. Time continued to roll on, and the IN NORTHERN OHIO. 33 sun had nearly attained its meridian, when a man of small stature, bright hazle eye, of sober countenance and sedate manners rode up, and engaged in conversation with the colored people outside of the building. Soon after he applied at the door for entrance, and was gladly admitted. When he had introduced himself to the slaveholders, he assured them of their perfect safety while he was with them ; told them that he would protect them if they would accom- pany him to the seat of justice for the county, where they might have a legal trial of their right to hold the fugitives, with the benefit of counsel. The offer was gladly accepted and they were soon under way for the place pro- posed. When they arrived at the seat of justice, they employed the only lawyer that could be found to espouse the cause of oppres- sion, and the parties immediately appeared before a magistrate for the purpose of deter- 34 FUGITIVE SLAVES mining the claim of this Kentuckian to the bodies of the father and mother and children in question. Our friend, whom we introduced to the reader at the besieged house, appeared as counsel for the fugitives. He had long been known as a zealous advocate of liberty, and had often stood by those charged with the offence of loving freedom better than slavery. He was not unprepared on the present occa- sion ; ready and able on all points touching the matter in question, he soon showed his oppo- nents that they had others than slaves to deal with. The slaveholder found himself unable to prove his claim and the captives were discharged. They then partook of such re- freshments as their friends provided for them, and a small donation was made to pay their expenses across the lake, and in less than twenty-four hours they were treading the free soil of Canada. Not so with their persecutors. The friends IN NORTHERN OHIO. 35 of liberty felt the necessity of setting an exam- ple that should deter other slave-hunters from committing such outrages in future in that quiet region. The owner and his two assist- ants were charged with an assault and battery committed upon the persons of the parents and children of whom we have spoken. They were accordingly arraigned and ordered to find bail for their appearance at the next Court of Common Pleas, or to be committed for the want of such bail. By the aid of their lawyer bail was procured and they started with heavy hearts for Kentucky, to remain there some six weeks and then to return and defend them- selves for thus laying hands upon their fellow men within the jurisdiction of Ohio laws. Their vexation and mortification was un- bounded. But their profane railings were of little use ; their bonds were signed, and could only be cancelled by their appearance in Court. In due time they set out on their return to 36 FUGITIVE SLAVES. Ohio. When they reached the village of M the owner of the slaves was taken severely ill and died in a few days. His assistants proceeded to the place at which they were bound to appear, where one of them was taken sick and was confined for a long time. The other made his appearance in Court with a most rueful countenance, and apparent dejection of spirits. These judgments of a righteous Providence having fallen so heavily upon the slave-catch- ers, and their intended victims being now in a land of safety, the prosecuting attorney, after consulting with the Court and with some of the leading Philanthropists of the County, entered a " nolle prosequi " upon the indictment, and the two living defendants were discharged. Since that time few slave-hunters have been seen in " Northern Ohio." Jefferson, Ashtabula Co., Ohio. OUR COUNTRY. 37 Cotmtrj). MY friend, what sordid days of dross are these, Of coward cringing, and of cheap content ; The nation raging, like a hive of bees, Its dignity in noisiest sallies spent ! I thought to have beheld, as Judah saw Her youngest victor shamed with glorious tears, The David of the nations, far withdraw His youth sublime from basest hopes and fears. I thought to have beheld his serious eyes Looking the hero of the world's spent field, With Israel's holiness and the grace which lies Lost in the chisel Athens used to wield. Could the wild seed, cast by Oppression's flail On sea-beat shores but germinate for this ? 38 OUR COUNTRY. The men of iron in their children fail ? Betrayed the world's Deliverer by a kiss ? Speech, which outruns performance, craves contempt ; True Greatness points to acts in silent pride. The Right, from fear of judgment is exempt, Content Truth's tardy verdict to abide. Men had a grandeur in the olden time, A river freely winding at its will ; And if, at times, it darkened into crime, The force of nature left it grandeur still. Now thought is cisterned in the market-place, Whence petty conduits run to each man's breast ; Now one low vice infects, throughout, the race, One man's small virtue echoes through the rest OUR COUNTRY. 39 The lofty thought, which spreads its arms to air, Fed by the silent dews of loneliest woods, Till its vast crown hangs in the dazzling glare, And o'er the landscape wide, majestic broods Is smothered by the undergrowth around, Content, as saplings, if no oak be there : Stems, which might soar, now trail along the ground ; No robin sings there, gilds no sunbeam fair. BY SUSAN C. CABOT. WHAT does Thought do for us? This question suggests itself when we see how much has been done by Thought in one direction, and how little in another. When we see how little advance Thought has made in the moral world, compared with her pro- gress in the physical and intellectual one, we feel that she has been cheated of her birth- right, and that something must be done to arouse her to claim her title-deeds. While by means of her great instrumentality, science has brought the stars to our feet, and carried us, as on eagles' wings, to the remote corners of the earth, what has she accomplished in the moral world ? What has she even begun ? While the fact still remains that we are in a THOUGHT. 41 land of slavery, still, like Cain, taking our brother's blood ! not from the instigation of envy, because we think we have not our just share of the favor of heaven, but from the wish to have more than our share. Can Thought have anything to do with this? No, it would be denying her divinity to say it : passion and selfishness may, but cool Thought never. Why should not the moral world, like the physical, also have her trophies, won from the field of Thought ? While steam-ships, and railroads, and balloons, are filling earth, sea and sky, shall there not arise greater wonders in the moral universe ? Shall not self-sacri- cing devotion turn iron chains into silken cords of love, prison-bars into gentle persuasion, and, at one word, people God's free earth with millions of free men, changing them from chattels into sons of God ? How is it that Thought is so shy as she takes her rounds in the world within ? Why, when 4* 42 THOUGHT. she approaches the holy of holies, which is to be laid open at the last day, why will she not take courage and enter there and find out the secrets of this hidden chamber, where is kept the book of life ? Surely the slave-holder, who makes laws upon laws that he may live securely and make money, has kept strict watch that the most secret place in his soul shall be made secure against this intruder, Thought, or he never could lie down in his bed with the echo still in his ears of those cries which rise up from the heart of the poor being whom he has robbed of his birth-right, without asking him- self by what right he does this. If Thought came to him here, would she not say, " How dare you do this great wickedness ? How can you so burthen your soul, that it cannot mount above this earth wet with the blood, and ringing with the sounds of the broken-hearted, the helpless, and the dying ; and this all the THOUGHT. 43 work of your hands ! Upon this defiled soil must your soul linger ; your soul, bom for the skies, born to live forever in the fulness of an eternal life ! Can you expect that a God of justice can receive and own you for his child? Take me into your holy of holies and let me there stay till I have moved the face of the great deep within you, and shown you that not this earth, but the heavens above, are to be reflect- ed in you ; that you are to become an angel, ready for acts of mercy, and a messenger of the Most High. O bar me out no longer ! you have lived too long without me ; know that I come from the Everlasting One, whose just laws cannot be broken without a fearful look- ing for of judgment. It cannot be that you have intended to do this great wrong; that you have meant to break the loving hearts of so many of God's children; that you have meant to take from the arms of the mother the child that God has given her ; from the 44 THOUGHT. wife the husband, who was to work with her to bring up this child to the knowledge that it is an immortal being ! Why make use of me only to further your earth-bound plans ? Let me awaken you from this sleep before it becomes the sleep of death, and rouse you to the fact that the abundant crops of cotton and sugar that start from the ground wet with the tears and blood of your fellow-men, will not serve you in that great day when alone with me and your God. Now, I come to you as a friend, praying you to bear with me for a season, to let me tell you the whole truth ; but then, on that day, I shall come before you as your accuser and judge." There have always been some pure spirits to awaken Thought, and to keep her in mind of her celestial birth and mission ; some wit- nesses that her works are to outreach the visible heavens. Let such keep the high places in faith, knowing that if they are not THOUGHT. 45 discerned from beneath there are watchful eyes above that ever keep guard over them. Is it pride, or passion, or selfishness, or the love of this world or its honors, that have aroused and bound together those who have taken into their souls the great thought that, however usage or prejudice or the sanction of the great and powerful uphold slavery, it still is a crime, and must be done away, unless the laws of God and his Son are false ? This thought, brooded over in a small upper room till it became a word to be carried into act at all hazards, was the beginning of that noble company, who, willing to take all abuse so long as the great work of redemption is going on, have brought many to think, and by this have brought them nearer to the world of spirits, and are themselves inspired with the great hope that their labors are not in vain for the redemption of our country from her deep stain of slavery. Give me a great thought 46 THOUGHT. said Herder, when he was on the confines of the two worlds. We are, at all times, on this confine; and should always pray for some great thought, to carry us into the eternity of great actions. West Roxbury, Massachusetts, U. S. INTERFERENCE. 47 Interference. ON READING A PAPER, IN DEFENCE OF SLAVERY, A TRAVELLER fell among the thieves He was crushed like Autumn leaves : He was beaten like the sheaves Upon the threshing-floor. There, upon the public way, In the shadowless heat of day, Bleeding, stripped and bound he lay, And seemed to breathe no more. Void of hope was he, when lo ! On his way to Jericho, Came a priest, serene and slow, His journey just begun. 48 INTERFERENCE. Many a silver bell and gem Glittered on his harness hem ; Behind him gleamed Jerusalem, In the unclouded sun. Broad were his phylacteries, And his calm and holy eyes Looked above earth's vanities, And gazed upon the sky. He the suffering one descried, But, with saintly looks of pride, Passed by on the other side, And left him there to die. Then approached with reverend pace, One of the elected race, The chosen ministers of grace, Who bore the ark of God. He a Levite and a high Exemplar of humanity, INTERFERENCE. 49 Likewise passed the sufferer by, Even as the dust he trod. Then came a Samaritan, A despised, rejected man. Outlawed by the Jewish ban As one in bonds to sin. - He beheld the poor man's need, Bound his wounds, and with all speed Set him on his own good steed, And brought him to the inn. When our Judge shall reappear Thinkest thou this man will hear " Wherefore didst thou interfere With what concerned not thee ? " No ! the words of Christ will run, " Whatsoever thou hast done To this poor and suffering one That hast thou done to me ! " 5 50 ALL ARE NEEDED. ail an Jfatelr. BY J A !S E ELIZABETH HITCHCOCK. IN converting the imbedded marble into a magnificent temple, with massive walls, beau- tiful columns, and crowning capitals, the services of the architect and the mason, the bold and skilful hand of the sculptor, and the aid of him who quarries the marble who disengages each block from the mass, are all necessary to its completion. It is a work of labor and of time. The rude and shapeless material appears unseemly, but when the edifice is completed it fills the beholder with delight. The sound of the heavy blows, the drilling and the blasting in the quarry, the harsh grating of the saw, and the ringing of the chisel, may have fallen unpleasantly upon ALL ARE NEEDED. 51 the sensitive nerves of him who contemplates this work of art and taste ; but were it not for these, the temple never would have been erected. So in a moral enterprize, the services of mauy are needed ; the bold architect to con- ceive the glorious design, some to separate from the mass of universal mind the individ- ual fragments, others whose patient industry brings each into a fitting shape, and they who with skilful hand fashion the whole into a form of spiritual beauty. He performs no less important service in erecting the temple of freedom, whose startling tones awaken the guilty conscience of the oppressor, than he who leads the repentant spirit onward and upward, and inspires it with a love of univer- sal liberty. He who arrests public attention, and elicits sympathy in behalf of the oppress- ed, labors as effectually for that end as he who teaches the heaven-born principle of the 52 ALL ARE NEEDED. brotherhood of man. Kind and gentle lan- guage, bold and forcible speech, severe and terrible rebuke are all useful and necessary, and he who uses the latter does as much, perhaps, towards regenerating mankind, as his fellow-laborer who uses mild and persuasive arguments. As in the marble there is only now and then a block which is suitable for a corner-stone or a pedestal, a key-stone or a capital, so in society there is only now and then a spirit which is susceptible of a separate and individ- ual existence ; only now and then one that can be fashioned into an independent body, and fitted for a prominent place. But ah 1 others are equally useful. In the erection of the great temple of freedom, each will occupy an im- portant position, and the labor of every work- man will be available. Let not him, then, who goes forward and performs the perilous service of subduing the ALL ARE NEEDED. 53 flinty heart, undervalue the influence of him who leads a true and beautiful life in the quiet and retirement of his own home. And let not him of the mild and gentle manner, whose spiritual power hallows all within its circle, imparting vitality and character and beauty to his work, deprecate the noise and the strife, the thunder-tone and the earth- quake-shock in the distance. But let all labor, each in his own way and in his own appropriate field, and in due time that glori- ous temple shall be erected, which shall give shelter and protection to every suffering child of humanity. Salem, Ohio, U. S. 54 BY THEODORE PARKER. I. JESUS THERE IS NO NAME SO DEAR AS THINE. JESUS there is no name so dear as thine Which Time has blazoned on his ample scroll ; No wreaths nor garlands ever did entwine So fair a temple of so vast a soul ; There every angel set his triumph seal, Wisdom combined with Strength and radiant Grace In a sweet copy Heaven to reveal, And stamp PERFECTION on a mortal face : Once oa the Earth wert thou, before men's eyes, That could not half thy beauteous brightness see, E'en as the emmet cannot read the skies, SONNETS. 55 Nor our weak orbs look through immensity ; Once on the Earth wert thou a living shrine, Wherein conjoining dwelt the GOOD, the LOVELY, the DIVINE. ii. OH THOU GREAT FRIEND TO ALL THE SONS OF MEN. OH thou great Friend to all the sons of men, Who once appeared in humblest guise below, Sin to rebuke and break the captive's chain, To call thy brethren forth from Want and Woe, Thee would I sing. Thy Truth is still the LIGHT Which guides the nations groping on their way, Stumbling and falling in disastrous night, Yet hoping ever for the perfect day : Yes ! thou art still the LIFE ; thou art the WAY 56 SONNETS. The holiest know, Light, Life and Way of Heaven ! And they who dearest hope, and deepest pray, Toil by the Light, Life, Way which thou hast given. And by thy Truth aspiring mortals trust T' uplift their faint and bleeding Brothers res- cued from the dust. in. DEAR JESCS WERE THY SPIRIT NOW ON EARTH. DEAR Jesus were thy spirit now on Earth, Where thou hast prayed and toiled a world to win, What vast ideas would sudden rise to birth, What strong endeavors 'gainst o'errnastering Sin! Thy blest beatitudes again thou 'dst speak ; But with deep-hearted words that scorch like fire, SONNETS. 57 Wouldst thou rebuke the oppressors of the weak : Or, turning thence to Prophets that aspire, How wouldst thou cheer the men who toil to save Their Brothers smarting 'neath a despot's rod, To lift the Poor, the Fallen, and the Slave, And lead them all alive to worship God ! Bigots wouldst thou rebuke that idle stand, But send thy Gospel-fraught Apostles con- quering through the land. West Koxbury, Massachusetts, U. S. 53 LETTER. FROM THOMAS CLARKSON. lark0on. PLAYFORD HALL, near Ipswich, Oct. 3, 1845. DEAR MADAM : I RECEIVED your last letter, but was so ill at the time that I was unable to answer it for some days; and indeed I have recovered so little since that time, that I despair of being much better. My constitution is now, probably, as we say in England, "breaking up ; " which I regret only, as it hinders me from being farther useful. I could have wished, perhaps, to have lived a little longer, but it would have been only for the sake of seeing the day when slavery should terminate. That its days are numbered I have no doubt; no more doubt than that I am now living; and the event cannot fail of being hastened on LETTER FROM THOMAS CLARKSON. 59 by what has happened in the case of Cassius M. Clay. The brutal treatment of him, and the outrages committed since by the white mob at Lexington, on the persons of the poor harm- less black people residing in that city, will be a fine engine for the citizens of the North, with which to work. I am very sorry that the present state of my health will not permit me to send you the contribution you desire against the forthcoming Fair. A particular circumstance has occurred which will stand in the way of performing what otherwise would have been a pleasure to me. An American, of the name of H. C. Wright, who has been in England, but more in Scotland, for sometime, and who has attended several Anti- Slavery meetings at Edinburgh, Glasgow, and other places, to the great advan- tage of the cause, wrote to me a week or two before the receipt of your letter, to do him a great favor, which was, that as my History of 60 LETTER FROM THOMAS CLARKSON. the Abolition of the Slave- Trade contained the facts relating to it only up to March 1807, when the British Parliament put an end to it, he wished to have some little farther history of our proceedings in England since that time, so as to take in the rise and means by which slavery in England was abolished also. He could get this he said (and he said truly) from no other person now living but myself. I consented to furnish him with a little account though far from well at the time willing to oblige a person who had done so much for our cause, and thinking that it might afford pleasure to some of our friends in America. I agreed only to give him the facts, leaving it to him so to embellish it as to make it a readable little book. I had no other idea, however, than that it would be the work, on my part, of a fortnight only, though I had too many things on hand even to spare that time ; but three weeks have passed, and as I am now a very LETTER FROM THOMAS CLARKSON. 61 slow writer, it will take three weeks more to finish the work. You will see, therefore, how impossible it is for me, when this work for Mr. Wright shall have been finished, and in my present state of health, to write anything fit to read, to be ready at the time of your Fair. I will just say, that I was the more induced to put myself to the trouble of writing 011 this occasion, when I saw that in the Report of the Glasgow Female Anti- Slavery Society Mr. Wright had given so lofty and yet so true a character of Mr. Garrison. Notwithstanding I have said all this, I itill think of a subject for the Fair, and will endeavor, if I can steal a few moments, at intervals, to begin it and go on with it ; and if I can finish it in time I will send it you ; but I must know what is the last day for receiving, at Boston, publications for the press. And here I will ask a question. I have some memoirs of Henry Christophe, king of 62 LETTER FROM THOMAS CLARKSON. Hayli. I corresponded with him for three years, and put him in the way of making- improvement for the good of his country, which I believe he followed. His only fault was that of being a too rigid disciplinarian ; a fault, indeed, which I cannot palliate ; but his intentions were noble, and his projects great, and he had a great mind. When I was at the great Congress at Aix la Chapelle, in Germany, trying to do something with the sovereigns of Europe, then assembled, in favor of the aboli- tion of the slave-trade, I found, unexpectedly, in my pocket, a letter of king Henry, which I had unknowingly brought with me from my own house. This letter had in it remarks on education. I showed it to the Emperor of Russia, After having read it, he asked my permission to show it to the Emperor of Austria, and the king of Prussia. He did so and told me that both of them were astonished at it as a letter coming from a black man ; and LETTER. FEOM THOMAS CLAEKSON. 63 all the three agreed, that though they spared no expense in getting the cleverest men in Europe to be their ministers, and to sit in coun- cil, no one of their then cabinet could produce a better letter. Now the publication of such memoranda in America might have a good effect in many ways, for however they might class the black man with the brute, in intellect, Henry Christophe, a man as black as jet, had powers of mind equal to those of any President in America. Would such a work do good, then, and would it suit your Liberty Bell ? I will finish my letter with a saying of one of the dearest friends I ever had, namely, General Lafayette. I was with the General often, and corresponded with him after his coming out of his dungeon at Olmutz. But the first time I knew him was when I was in Paris, the year after the French Revolution, on the subject of the slave-trade, and I assisted him materially. He was decidedly as uncompro- 64 LETTER FROM THOMAS CLARKSOX. mising an enemy to the slave-trade, and slavery, as any man I ever knew. He freed all his slaves in French Cayenne, who had come to him by inheritance, in 1786, and shewed me all his rules and regulations for his estate when they were emancipated. I was with him no less than four different times in Paris. He was a real gentleman, and of soft and gentle manners. I have seen him put out of temper, but never at any time except when slavery was the subject. He has said, frequently, " I would never have drawn my sword in the cause of America, if I could have conceived that thereby I was founding a land of slavery." How would the people of Fayette County like to hear this ? to hear their land cursed by the man who gained it for them ? I remain, Dear Madam, Yours truly, THOMAS CLARKSON. To Mrs. H. G. Chapman. SONG, BY E. L. FOLLEX. 65 FOR THE FRIENDS OF FREEDOM. FAXEUIL HALL. TWELFTH ANTI-SLAVERY FAI BY ELIZA LEE FOLLEN. HEART to heart, and hand in hand Bound together let us stand, Storms are gathering o'er the land, Many friends are gone ! Still we never are alone, Still we bravely march right on, Right on ! right on ! right on ! To the Pilgrim spirit true Which nor slave nor master knew, Onward ! faithful, fearless few, Liberty's the prize ! Full of hope that never dies, Spirits of the free arise ! Arise! arise! arise! 6* 66 SONG, BY E. L. FOLLEN. Will you your New England see Crouching low to slavery ? Rise and say it shall not be ! More than life's at stake ! Rise and every fetter break ! Every free-born soul awake ! Awake ! awake ! awake ! Listen to our solemn call, Sounding from old Faneuil Hall, Consecrate yourselves, your all To God and Liberty ! On your spirit's kindred knee, Swear your country shall be free, Be free ! be free ! be free ! Heed not what m'ay be your fate, Count it gain when worldlings hate, Naught of hope, or heart abate, Victory 's before ! Ask not that your toils be o'er Till all slavery is no more, No more ! no more ! no more ! SONG, BY E. L. FOLLEN. 67 Welcome, then, the crown of thorns Which the faithful brow adorns ; All complaint the brave soul scorns, Burdens are its choice, While within it hears a voice Ever echoing, rejoice 1 Rejoice ! rejoice ! rejoice ! Soon, to bless our longing eyes, Freedom's glorious sun shall rise ; Now it lights those gloomy skies Faintly from afar, Faith and love her heralds are, See you not her morning star ? Hurra ! hurra ! hurra ! West Roxbury, Massachusetts, U. S. A COMMUNICATION, 3. Communication. BY HARRIET MARTINEAU. WHAT I am going to tell you is no fiction : nor can it be called a dream. As to whence it was derived, suffice it now to say that means of insight into realities exist, powers of body and soul for a certain recognition of unseen tilings, which few are aware of, and scarcely any know how to exert and employ. A spirit, released from its present life and connexions, shrank from entering upon that state of ease and " glory " which it had been led to anticipate as a good portion after death. It preferred ceasing to live to living that kind of life. Liberty of choice being left, however, it chose a lot of service, eternal service of men. It chose this work; to abide by our BY HAERIET MARTINEAU. 69 globe, and live in its shadowy parts ; to travel with the gloom, and penetrate the deeper gloom of mourning hearts. Its work was to enter all sorrowing souls, unseen, unheard, un- tracked, unfelt, except in the glow of hope and comfort it was enabled to create. This mission it fulfilled for centuries. Of what it saw and was permitted to do, I will now give you but one instance. One of its first pauses was in a slave-ship in the midst of the Atlantic, where the company of wretched beings felt themselves in a vault of blackness as terrifying as their fate. The spirit penetrated them all, and found, as it told me, " their hearts as deep as the sea they are on, and as dark as the night about them. I," it continued, " will be the opener of their dawn. Gently gently will I let in the light : only as they are able to bear it. There is no haste : for what is so sure as the spread of the dawn into perfect day ? " 70 A COMMUNICATION, Even in such work, pursued with such powers, the spirit found some pain and draw- back. Its aids were circumscribed by the limitations of the capacities of the sufferers. In this instance, it could impart only a vague sensation of comfort and hope of relief. While itself looking back and down upon the expanse of centuries, and seeing the fire -fountains of liberty welling up wherever man had put forth his hand, and touched the soil for freedom in the name of God; while itself perceiving that all fetters of mind and body are perpetu- ally wasting away under the prayers and tears of the few who are ever praying and suffer- ing for the enslaved in some corner of the earth ; while itself seeing and knowing these tilings, the ministering spirit could not make them seen and known by eyes yet darkened, and intellects yet torpid. It could but let in a dim ray, and infuse a faint glow, whereby however, the bowed head was raised, the BY HARRIET MARTINEAU. 71 silent spoke to each other, the infant was pressed to its mother's beating heart, and an undefined sense of well-being spread through the band of sufferers, though none could tell nor even incjuire whence came the intuition of hope and help. If you ask why I tell you this, I can only reply that it animated me, (it being, as I said, no fiction, nor yet a dream) and that I like to impart to you whatever animates me in the great cause for which you work and endure. Ambleside, Westmoreland, England. 72 OUR DUTY. (Dor BY BENJAMIN S. JONES. WHY should we rest ingloriously When earth is filled with strife, And Error shouts her battle cry . Upon the field of Life? The labor we were sent to do, Is steadfastly to seek A knowledge of the Eight and True With spirit strong, yet meek. To tread, unmurmuring, the way The Sinless One hath trod, And thus draw nearer ev'ry day In likeness unto God. The shadowy PAST has from us flown, The FUTURE cometh late, The PRESENT only is our own, Nor will the PRESENT wait. Salem, Ohio, U. S. EXTRACT FROM A SPEECH. 73 FROM A SPEECH AT THE ANTI-TEXAN MEETING IN FANEOIL HALL, 1845. BY SAMUEL J.MAY. THE compromise of our fathers blunted the sensibility of their children, so that they were too easily turned aside from the high career which was commenced by the Revolution, and suffered the spirit of trade to usurp that place in their bosoms which should have been kept ever sacred to the spirit of Freedom. Allusion has been repeatedly made in the course of our debates to Plymouth Rock. Ah ! sir, the fate of that rock is very similar to the fate of the principle of liberty, upon which our civil institutions were professedly based. Go, sir, to Plymouth, inquire for the Rock, and you shall be led to see where it is actually 74 EXTRACT FROM A SPEECH. buried in a wharf, and over it the busy sons of trade daily trample, not conscious that it is a sacred spot. It is true, sir, some 'of the pious sons of the Pilgrims have rescued a portion of the Keck from that desecration to which I have alluded ; but, sir, the disposal they have made of the fragment, (although with a dif- ferent intention, and for a better purpose) happens still to bear a striking resemblance to the way in which the Declaration of our Revolutionary sires has been treated. They have brought that piece of rock to the side of the most public high way, to be seen and admired of all men to be seen, but not felt ; for around it they have put a strong iron fence, graced with the imperishable names of the men who led in that great enterprise; but a fence so high that none may leap over and stand upon the rock, and actually feel beneath him the stable foundation, upon which our forefathers planted their feet. EXTRACT FROM A SPEECH. 75 The men of our day have treated the glorious Declaration of our Independence worse than this. They have set it forth in all the decorations of typographic art. They have placed it in gilded frames and hung it up to be seen and admired. But he who has dared to overleap the restrictions which the Constitution would impose, and take his stand upon the self-evident, eternal truths of the Declaration, has been accounted a fanatic, a pestilent fellow, not fit to live. This recreancy to principle, Mr. President, this loss of the sentiment and the love of liberty, are the legitimate effects of the dis- astrous compromise which was made by the framers of our Constitution. But a new leaf is to be turned in the history of our nation. The doings of this Convention, if they are what they ought to be, will be the first bright record upon the unsullied page. Taking warning from the past, let us see to it 76 EXTRACT FROM A SPEECH. that we do not commence the pregnant chap- ter with a compromise, an evasion. No, sir. No, sir ! Let us henceforth speak only what is true, and consent to do only what is right. Syracuse, N. Y. 0oniute. BY GEORGE THOMPSON I. THE sun breaks forth with his brightest beam The music is sweet of the winding stream ; The reaper is binding the yellow grain, While the sky-lark carols his sweetest strain Thin clouds career o'er the mountain's brow ; In the vale the peasant holds his plough ; And all is gladness, and joy, and peace, The fertile field and the snowy fleece : Nor can I through this realm descry, As o'er it wanders the kindling eye On the smiling farm, or the martyr's grave, A lordly satrap or groaning slave. When, Columbia ! when shall it be, That the poet may sing the same of thee ! 7* 78 SONNETS. II. TO BLANCHE. I saw and loved ; but, it was holily, Even as a brother, or a spirit might. SPEECHLESS thou art; yet, able to commune With spirits like thine own, and kindred hearts. What, though to thee has been denied the boon, Which God to all save few on earth im- parts Hast thou no language? Canst thou not re- veal The holy sympathies which mortals feel ? Thou canst. To me, thine have been all made known, In language silent, eloquent, thine own. Thine eye has glanced a meaning full and deep, And told the thoughts which o'er thy spirit sweep. SONNETS. 79 Yes ! I have read thee and I know thy mind High toned, and pure, and sanctified, and kind. Though mute, thou canst the soul-sung an- them raise, And thy full heart can speak thy Maker's praise. Newingtoji, near Edinburgh. 80 THE LIBERTY BELL. Cibertjj 8*11. BY S. MARGARET FULLER. IT was a legend of Germany, that, in the time when the faith of Christendom was live- ly, and her heart aspiring to be devout, if she had not sufficient clearness of mental view to avoid great mistakes as to the way, a certain society of knights had vowed, with the straitest vow, their service to the oppressed in every part of their country. And so faith- ful was their adherence to this vow, that Heaven took them under its especial care and allowed them supernatural assistance, that they might multiply good deeds more and more. In their chapel hung a bell, whose silver blazonry chronicled the acts of many who had imitated their Master not only in purity and self-denial, but, also, in active be- THE LIBERTY BELL. 81 nevolence towards their fellow-men. Its silver sound was, in itself, almost a prayer. It was a beautiful and solemn sight when this sound called many votaries to kneel before the altar. The soft light, that fell through windows painted with figures of saints and angels already admitted to the joys of perfect obedi- ence and intelligent ministry, gave to view faces which showed a kindred spirit, a spirit that could never rest or dally on the upward path to the mount of Salvation, that craved the nearest approach to the sun and stars, the purest, if the coldest, atmosphere which the human frame is able to bear. There was the gray haired man, whose features were marked by a thousand characters that told of noble deeds achieved, or failures well redeemed; there was the youth, in whose eye the light was borrowed, not from the torch of passion, but the morning star of God's own day ; there was the minstrel, who had turned his lyre into 82 THE LIBERTY BELL. a sword, because the time seemed to demand a sharper service to relieve his fellow-men, and those precepts of the Master which for- bade that way had not yet been translated; there was the lover, whose mistress had dismissed him to aid his brethren ; and many a one beside for whom fortune had prepared pleasant homes in the green shade and beside fresh fountains, but who could not rest and be merry while their fellow-men watered with blood and tears the path of the conqueror, the domain of the tyrant These men were of different mould one from another; the veins of some ran with water, of others with wine ; and very unlike in degree was the majesty of their course, the firmness of their grasp. But when they all knelt together at the sound of that bell, all true hearts echoed to its call, and gave forth tones, each of which was wanted to swell the strain of heavenly music. THE LIBERTY BELL. 83 And those hearts, once thus awakened, retained a sensibility so delicate that when any act of oppression was about to be perpe- trated on the earth, the votary of this most holy order, who was nearest, heard in the air the warning sound of that consecrated bell. Then did he immediately long, with all his force, to embrace the occasion, not counting the cost, not to be deterred by weariness, sickness, or scenes of happiness to be forsaken. The means of reaching the scene where his devoir was to be done, were instantly afforded him. On the land a white steed bore him, on the waters white swans impelled his bark. All that was necessary for him, in the conduct of the journey, was to keep his mind clear from malice, anger, impatience and all wrong thoughts, till he reached the spot where his courage and energy were required. God would show the way, if he kept himself worthy to be the instrument. If he failed in 84 THE LIBERTY BELL. this, the ministry was transferred to another, one more steadfast in the sense that " Him, only him, the shield of Jove defends, Whose means are fair and spotless as his ends." This legend made a deep impression on me, and though, even in the fairest visionary time of youth, I never met in the greenwood or descried upon the stream one of those chosen servants, with his attendant snowy steed, or swan, and the seal of the shining ones upon his brow, yet I believed such an association could not have died out. These faithful ser- vants must have felt too much the earth's need of redemption to have died in peace without choosing successors worthy to per- petuate the talisman. Still, no doubt, that sanctuary gathered in its worshippers ; still they sped through the world dispensing bene- fits unexpected as manna to those who did not know that the wrongs of the innocent or penitent always woke the sound of the bell. THE LIBERTY BELL. 85 But, I supposed, only eyes purged to spiritual sight could see them now. One day I read, in the album of a distin- guished contemporary, this signature, " Dan. O' Council, of the Order of Liberators." Of this Daniel, I, at that time, knew little ; not enough to judge whether he, like the great Israelite, was one able to brave the fiery furnace, and the lion's den, and the silken lures of a court, and speak truth always with a poet's power. But it flashed upon me at once, that the Order to which he vowed himself must be that of the Consecrated Bell, under a new form. Yes ! it is surely so. We know too much now to be content with merely freeing individ- ual victims from their chains. We know enough to war with the errors which forge them. We must liberate men, but we must also establish the principles of liberty for man. We need not the white steed to show us the 8 86 THE LIBERTY BELL. way ; it is now too well marked to be missed by any who choose to see it. But now, more than ever, do we need the consecration of the spirit which should pre- cede, the pure tone of conscience which shall direct, our action ! Let none consider himself vowed to the Order of Liberators who is not willing, like the knights of old, to fail in his efforts and see the work given to another, if he cannot keep his heart clean from impatience, a love of excitement for its own sake, intoler- ance, and the bitterness of partisan hatred. For to such, whatever they may outwardly accomplish, He whose name they invoke must surely say, in the hour of spiritual ordination, " I never knew ye." We stand, it has been said, in a time of revolution ; so do men ever. Yet that this is a moment of great and peculiar importance, we do believe. Principles cannot die; but the earthly embodiment of one of the greatest THE LIBERTY BELL. 87 that give man his claims to spiritual hope, lies gasping with a wound that threatens a long trance, or convulsion. Never did the earth more need the salt to show its savor. Bring the sacred bell ; and at its sound must move, before the sincere worshipper, millions of spirits yet unborn to the woes of this world ; the scenes of centuries to come demanding his agency to avert evils that shame imagina- tion. Bring, then, the silver bell ; but ye who obey its summons, believe, also, that the time demands, and God commands, a deeper, larger wisdom, a severer devotion than those that enabled Milton and Washington to leave us their legacy. We have it to pay over, princi- pal and interest, to our heirs; the mint is ready ; let not the pieces which bear the name of Texas be stamped on the reverse with slavery, and the lone star be given for a tin-one to him who has forfeited the title of Lucifer, except as bitter mockery. Let it not be so, if 88 THE LIBERTY BELL. well-considered purpose, if flame-like ardor and purity of life, can prevent it. Or, if you feel yourselves unfit to aid in this cause, consider well whether you forever forego admission to the Order of Liberators, since, if you forbear this test of service, you incur a vast debt to humanity, which fate may not, in your own age, afford you opportunity to cancel. Consider well, but not slowly, for the time is short. " God calls; the angels wait; and fellow-men, Betwixt the spasms of pain, still question, ' When Shall our crushed hearts be healed to say, Amen ? ' Our brothers are our keepers; ask them why Immortal hopes in life-long graves must lie, And they the demons of such destiny ? Cain slew the body they would slay the soul : To the unborn extend their fell control. To thee, oh Lord, our blood doth upward cry, Not unavenged and not in vain we die : Thy justice is our surety. Happy they Through whom to the dark earth its light finds way ; Accursed who shut out each gleam of coming day ! " A FRAGMENT. 89 .fragment. BY JANE E. HORNBLOWER. GOD'S glorious works ! free, as the chaiiiless winds, Far as the eye can stretch, ye widely spread ! The immortal heavens that canopy your head Are glorious glorious the immortal minds That bless your beauty. On your mountains' brow Free prayers are breath'd, and holy dreams inspir'd ; From the pure heights above, in clouds attir'd, Fall radiant thoughts, stainless as mountain snow, And visions not of earth. The oppressor, here, Fac'd by the free winds, and the bright ex- panse 8* 90 A FRAGMENT. Of earth, air, water, that invites his glance, Might own, for once, that liberty was dear. Free are the creatures all of this bright sphere : The sheep stray fearless in each dangerous path, The eagle combats with the tempest's wrath, The chorus of the birds is wild and clear. The very sun shoots down unfettered rays, Lighting, at will, each glade and rock and tree. The clouds in their bright charioting are free ; Man's laws are powerless to confine the blaze Of glorious light, pervading Nature's face. In liberty the waters freshly flow, And free the eye wanders the depths below, The changing views, the dark ravines to trace. Oh ! glorious Liberty ! thy name is trac'd In every work from thy Creator's hand, And the great bounty which his goodness plann'd E'en tyrant man achieves not to efface A FRAGMENT. 91 With all his blighting power. The corn waves free ; Oh! free it should be gather'd. Blades and flowers Eise up in thousands from the Spring's warm showers, And they are man's to use to taste to see. Given with a Father's blessing, hateful strife And base restriction vainly step between ; A mightier power enfranchises each scene. Since God has charter'd wheat, the poor man's life, Gather the sheaves in freedom free they grow ! His golden sun has painted that bright grain, His rains have fertilized that moving plain, He bade those fields in Summer beauty glow ! Eternal Nature ! 'midst thy shows sublime No tyrant foot should enter even there. 92 A FRAGMENT. In that great temple of the free-drawn air, Sits Freedom, thron'd coeval with all time. Call'd by her Maker's fiat, there she sees Her subject realms in boundless beauty move ; And, fired with heaven's own atmosphere of love, A glory on the hills, and vales, and trees. England. PRO-SLAVERY APPEAL. 93 IJro^Slarerg Appeal TO THE WORLD FOR SYMPATHY, ANSWERED FROM OLD IRELAND. BY JAMES HA TIGHT ON. IN an Address read by the Hon. T. F. Marshall, on the occasion of the suppression, by lawless violence, of C. M. Clay's paper, " The True American," I find the following passage : " For our vindication, under the cir- cumstances, we appeal to Kentucky and to the world." I know not how this audacious appeal may be met by the people of Kentucky : but as an Irishman I reply, your acts of violence on this occasion only deepen the feelings of contempt entertained in my country for Ameri- can slave-holders, feelings which deepen 94 PRO-SLAVERY APPEAL. from day to day, as we see more clearly the inconsistency between their professions of lib- erty and their acts of oppression. It is lamentable to behold the position now occupied by the United States of America in the estimation of the rest of the world. Slave- ry, it is true, exists in other countries, but nowhere else is its hideous deformity so appa- rent. The charter of man's inalienable right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, is ostentatiously paraded before the world, while, at the same time, this magnificent recognition is continually trampled under foot by her citizens. And, strange to say, their perceptions of justice and honor are so pervert- ed by the blighting influences of slavery, that they imagine they stand forth among their fellow-men, arrayed in spotless purity ! But such monsters, in the moral creation, have no just pretensions to associate with the rest of mankind. When they leave their own PRO-SLAVERY APPEAL. 95 sphere, they are obliged to put on the garb of virtue ; but it sits awkwardly upon them, and cannot conceal their real character. These " wolves in sheep's clothing " walk uneasily, when they step beyond their own polluted boundary. Such at least is the condition of all pro-slavery Americans who visit old Ireland. Yes ! thanks to the fearless exposures and denunciations of O'Connell and his son John, we know how to treat American " soul-driv- ers." The incendiaries in Lexington may there- fore rest assured that they will meet with no friendly response from us. In return for their blind and bootless attempt to smother free discussion, and their unmanly attack upon the property and privileges of a man who had the magnanimity to free his slaves, and to combat a depraved public opinion by reason and argument, let them know that Ireland will make every pro-slavery American, who sets 96 PRO -SLAVERY APPEAL. foot upon her soil, feel that she looks upon him as a degraded being, fit only to associate with sheep-stealers and highway-robbers. That my answer is a true Irish answer, every packet-ship from our shores to America will bear ample testimony. Oppression, in some shape, exists in all lands, and the poor are its victims in a greater or less degree, everywhere. In some countries open and unblushing tyranny is sanctioned by the laws and ancient usages of society ; in others, misery and destitution prevail, arising partly from unjust social arrangement, from erroneous legislation, from intemperance and ignorance. But, even in these cases, the oppressed are generally allowed to complain ; their friends are permitted to advocate their cause, and the evils under which they groan are open to inquiry and amelioration. The slave-holding American Union alone would remain wilfully lark and blind, doggedly determined to shut PRO-SLAVERY APPEAL. 97 out the light. She alone claims the right forever to repress the free aspirations of the soul, to transform her victim from a man to a brute, and to keep him so. And if one of her slave-holders, becoming convinced of the sin- fulness of his position, struggle through the legal impediments which she has thrown in his way, give freedom to his bondmen, and peaceably advocate the equal rights of all, she hunts him down as if he were a raven- ous wild beast. Thus, with a Constitution the most glorious ever offered for the admiration and acceptance of any people, it is reserved for America to exhibit the most infamous tyranny that exists upon earth. We do not wonder when we hear of forcible attempts to repress the ex- pression of opinion, in obedience to the mandate of a monarch, in countries where political freedom is denied to the mass of the people. This is only what might be expected. PRO-SLAVERY APPEAL. But we start when we first learn that such things happen in the United States, where the right of free speech and free discussion is guarantied to all, by solemn compact, and embodied in a written Constitution. Nevertheless, while we strive to bring the power of enlightened public opinion to bear upon the unjust acts of American slave-holders, we should be diligent in laboring for an abate- ment of the evils which afflict our own poor. He who sends his sympathies across the ocean, and is deaf to the cries of sufferers at home, is a hypocrite, and deserves not to be trusted. But, happily, the United States are engaged in a fruitless struggle against free discussion they cannot shut out the light. Happily for the master as well as for the slave, in spite of all his efforts to overcome the con- viction, the master feels that he is at war with all the higher instincts of his own nature. He is at continual war with God, in his own soul, PRO-SLAVERY APPEAL. 99 for he knows that he is ever doing violence to the divine laws. Other sinners may de- ceive themselves by the plea that they are acting in accordance with the propensities which God has implanted. The warrior may urge the plea of self-defence, and the pro- vocation which his natural propensities of destructiveness and combativeness have re- ceived ; the highwayman or the sheep-stealer may seek to satisfy his accusing conscience by pleading that the laws under which he lives are partial and unjust, and deny him his fair share of the means of life. But as easily could I believe that a man might thrust his hand into a flaming furnace and feel no pain, as that a man could buy a man and work him without wages and not know that he was do- ing wrong. He may endeavor to conceal the conviction from himself, by the aid of corrupt public sentiment, and by resolutely silencing 100 PRO-SLAVERY APPEAL. his conscience ; but that the consciousness of injustice is a living principle in his soul is proved by the state of uneasiness in which he lives. He is ever in fear, he is the slave of boisterous passions, he enacts cruel and bloody laws to protect himself against the ever-living opposition of his human cattle. Truly, despite his polished manners to strangers, and his haughty demeanor towards his equals at home, the man-stealer is a miserable creature. It would be an act of mercy to release him from the bondage of a system which makes him thus wretched in himself and contemptible in the eyes of the world of that world to which Mr. Marshall and his compeers have made their audacious appeal. If they have hearts capable of being touched by any feelings of truth and honor, deep will be their humiliation at the response they will receive from the civilized world. The folly of these men in PRO-SLAVERY APPEAL. 101 suppressing a paper conducted by one whose aim was to shed light abroad on the subject of slavery, will array the free pens of the world against that vile system, and strengthen our indignant abhorrence. May the bloody institu- tion soon be uprooted from its very foundation. Oh, people of America ! the heart of human- ity shall rejoice when the song of universal emancipation shall resound through the length and breadth of the Union; when it shall be borne with acclamation from summit to sum- mit of your everlasting mountains ; when the glad waters of your magnificent rivers shall carry onward the jubilee of freedom; and when your mighty forests and boundless prairies shall no longer echo to the wailing of the bondman ; when your Marshalls and your Calhouns, your M'Duffies and your Henry Clays, shall shake off the selfishness which degrades and depresses them, and shah 1 rise 9* 102 PRO-SLAVERY APPEAL. up in the dignity of their nature, free and disenthralled! Then, indeed, may your citi- zens appeal with confidence to the world to justify their actions, but not until then. Dublin, October, 1845. 103 fttbtUe. BY ALLEN C. SPOONER. THE Equinox is past, October's days fly fast, Its leaves are sere : The sea, with darker swell, Pale skies and keen airs, tell Stern winter near. The husbandman, his spoil, Won from the earth by toil, With joy surveys ; And, for his bounteous board, Full barns and garners stored, To God gives praise. The fisher, on the shore, Hears the loud tempest roar, Careless and free 104 And, safe in peaceful cot, Forgets his toilsome lot, To farm the sea. In crowded cities vast, The friendless and outcast Together cower : A blight is on their souls, And slowly o'er them rolls The heavy hour. Near by, in lighted halls, Where wild profusion palls The sated sense, The sons of luxury strive, With feast and song, to drive Earth's sorrows thence. And, as the seasons fly, The preacher's homily Is " watch and pray ! 105 For what are human years ? A shade which but appears, Then shrinks away." But what to us is time ? Eternity sublime And boundless scope To live and work and grow, Enjoy, achieve and know, Are ours, in hope. Then let us fearless live ! What's freely given, still give With liberal hand : For love, when like a scroll The heavens together roll, Secure shall stand. Without remorse or fear, Each swiftly passing year, We'll see depart : 106 JUBILEE. And, by distrust unvexed, Look forward to the next With tranquil heart. And, as time sweeps along, We'll raise the joyful song, And bid him fly : True heart and lofty soul Own not his stern control ; His power defy. Oct. 1845. DISCOURAGEMENTS AND INCENTIVES. 107 BY ALLEN C. SPOONER. THE outward evils of man's lot are but the exponents and visible manifestations of in- ward darkness or corruption. The unjust institutions, pernicious customs and violent deeds of mankind, are superficial merely, and^ of consequence chiefly as they indicate the interior state of men's hearts and thoughts. Men do not love evil and wrong for their own sakes, and never justify them as such. All the world admits, for example, that if slavery be an evil and a wrong, it is indefensible and ought to be abandoned. Its defence is grounded rather upon the position that it is in fact as near to right as the present condition of human nature will admit. 108 DISCOURAGEMENTS AND INCENTIVES. Nor is this position so entirely false or fallacious as it is frequently stated to be. On the contrary, in the present state of the slave- holder's heart, reinforced as he is by the sympathy and self-interested opinion of others and sustained and justified by the clerical expounders of the will of God, is it not literally true that slavery cannot be abolished? But withdraw the reinforcement of public opinion, silence the clerical defenders of wrong and purge the mind of the slave-holder from error and selfishness, and slavery becomes impossi- ble. We are apt to grow impatient and despairing at the persistency of mankind in what we think demonstrated to be wrong. Thoroughly per- suaded in his own mind, the reformer looks to see the considerations which influence and decide him, fall with corresponding force and effect upon the minds of others. But it is not to be disguised that hitherto only a very DISCOURAGEMENTS AND INCENTIVES. 109 small portion of mankind have so far attained their full stature as to form their opinions, still less regulate their conduct, with simple refer- ence to right and wrong. It is not wonderful, nor any ground for despair, when so few in all the ages have reached this point, if great masses of men should fail to reach it at a bound. It is to be considered also, that the prevail- ing law of human action, hitherto, has been self-interest; a low form of expediency. However true it may be that, in a large view, rectitude and true self-interest concur, it is manifest that a view so large (not to say deep) as to perceive this identity, is to be expected of but very few. Meanwhile, the law of expediency, as practically understood and applied, means what is expedient for me, what will conduce to my advantage, and not what is expedient on the whole and will conduce to the joint advantage of myself and 10 110 DISCOURAGEMENTS AND INCENTIVES. the world. An appeal to this law, implying as it cannot but do, the low and degraded condition of mankind, is now and ever has been the readiest method of influencing masses of men. It is the perpetual postulate of the politician and too oft6n of the priest. In dealing with an " institution " so inwrought into the whole fabric of society and character as slavery, it is no easy task to satisfy even candid minds of the wisdom of its abolition, as a mere point of self-interest or expediency. Still more difficult is it to bring masses of men to throw aside all considerations of interest, and sternly look at slavery as a naked question of right and wrong. Furthermore, it is - every day's experience of human nature, that men will and do persist in practices long after they are convinced that they are hurtful and even sinful. It is only by sudden lightning-flashes of energy, or by continual droppings as of the rain, that the DISCOURAGEMENTS AND INCENTIVES. Ill iron chain of habit can be rent or worn asunder. We may then fairly expect that sound opinion will precede, by a long interval, right action. And through what wildernesses of error and prejudice have even the free citizens of New England to struggle before they will arrive at even a sound opinion on the subject of slavery ! The quickened con- science and resolved will must follow after; and may they follow soon ! The very religion of mankind has hitherto been a mixture of blind superstition, ridiculous mummery and base hypocrisy, far enough from practical righteousness and nearly as far from common sense. The application of rigorous morals to the personal, social and political business and relations of men* has but just begun. And even now, out of the limits of a very narrow circle, it is considered prepos- terous to subject practical affairs to the test of moral principles. A member of Congress 112 DISCOURAGEMENTS AND INCENTIVES. would be laughed at who should oppose war with Mexico on the ground simply that all war is wrong. A merchant would be considered unfit for business who should decline to avail himself of his neighbor's ignorance of a rise in the price of flour, to buy his whole stock below the market price. The preacher will extol the majesty of the moral law in sounding phrase, on Sundays. It is a familiar trick with the orator to sound a period or complete a climax with the august name of God. It is deemed becoming in women to be pious and punctual at prayers and preachings. But far enough from business men, who live out of doors and in the light, and carry on the actual work of the world, has hitherto been the needless punctilio and unmanly weakness of bowing obediently to the stern law of right. It is the glory of this age that it is beginning to import truth and justice and benevolence out of the realms of theory and fancy into DISCOURAGEMENTS AND INCENTIVES. 113 actual life and bring them to bear upon actual persons, institutions, relations, usages and opinions. Properly speaking, this is the only fit business of mankind ; or rather it is these principles which ought to regulate all activity. Institutions for the blind, the insane, the orphan, the destitute, temperance societies, anti-slavery societies, are only so many forms of the application of religion to life. All of them are partial, most of them are tainted with somewhat of selfish ambition for office, distinction or applause, in their principal pro- moters ; but they are the best things men have yet attained to socially they show how high the tide has yet risen. Looking at the world from day to day, it is hard to tell whether this tide is coming in, or going out; and perhaps it is actually rising here while it is refluent yonder. Yet taking into view a period of a century, we see that there is a steady progress onwards. In New 10* 114 DISCOURAGEMENTS AND INCENTIVES. England we can note in the last ten years a very marked advance in the general mind towards truth and justice. In the metropolis, the State House and Faneuil Hall arc con- ceded, without objection, even to the Aboli- tionists. The newspapers, reflecting popular sentiments with tolerable- accuracy, are not half as bitter as they were ten years since against fanatics and disorganizes. Public men too, are growing quite shy of defending Southern prejudices and institutions, and are beginning to trim their sails to the new blasts of freedom. Even the churches arc not now exclusively devoted to doctrinal theology and town-meetings, but to a considerable extent are open for purposes of general philanthropy and humanity. This is something. Still, it is undeniable that the mass of New England people are very little disturbed by all the atrocities attending the annexation of Texas. They do not understand the principles of DISCOURAGEMENTS AND INCENTIVES. 115 liberty xvith sufficient clearness, or they do not attach to them sufficient importance, to be impelled to any vigorous opposition. The most earnest and assiduous efforts of the friends of freedom have been able to bring out but a feeble numerical manifestation, and there can be no doubt that the general feeling is one of almost total indifference. This shows how much more remains to be done even here than has been already accomplished. " From within, out of the heart of man," have proceeded all the giant wrongs which obstruct the pathway of humanity. The re- medial energy must be awakened and evoked from the same human heart. Slow as the work is, every blow tells. Late though the harvest be, every wayside seed shall germi- nate. The need of the philanthropist is unwaver- ing faith and untiring patience. Faith that no wrong can so entrench itself in God's world 116 DISCOURAGEMENTS AND INCENTIVES. as to escape the dissolution to which it is doomed, and 110 truth be so beleaguered that it shall not finally prevail. Patience to work on uncheered by the vision of speedy results, and to maintain a serene peace, which neither disappointment nor delay can ruffle. The noble words of the ancient astronomer are full of the true inspiration : " If God has waited six thousand years for a man to dis- cover his plan, I can well wait for posterity to appreciate my labors." 117 OX READING J. H. W1FFEN S TRANSLATION OF TASSO. BY GEORGIANA FANNY ROSS. THREE hundred years had passed above him The Bard, who Salem's conquest sung; But none, alas, had learned to love him, Save those who spoke his mother-tongue. We breathed his glorious name in sadness, With labor made some gems our own ; Far better by his wrongs and madness, Than triumphs of his genius known. If some, with daring hand, endeavored To clothe his rhymes in English dress, The spirit from the form they severed ; We closed the book in weariness. 118 STANZAS. Forever, through their own unmeetness, They made his glowing numbers tire : We only heard their native sweetness, In some stray note from Spenser's lyre Till thou, sublimely thus transfusing The essence of the Poet's thought, No word or spell of beauty losing, At last the noble work hast wrought. From thee, to him, delighted turning, As fireside songs his lays we boast; For pride and pleasure scarce discerning Which charms the raptured spirit most. In thee no beam of genius dwindles To cold reflected light away ; In passing, each its fire rekindles, O, Poet, at thy soul's warm ray. No empty shades, no phantoms meagre, Vex those who hold thy model dear ; We read with eyes and pulses eager, As if tli' original were here. 119 Yes, themes to whose harmonious measure Venetian waters wept of yore, Have now become our England's treasure. - An added wealth of household lore. Strains of the spheres, sublime and lonely, A foreign lay the mind may move, But in our native accents, only, Becomes the song of home and love. O, honor to each hand, that twining In every soil the fairest flowers, A glorious coronal combining, Has made some rare exotic ours ! And if, perchance, in gathering, shaken, Some dew be from its blossom gone, What though the freshness thence is taken, Is not the fragrant flower our own ? London, Sept. 25th, 1845. 120 A VISION OF THE FATHERS. 1 Vision of % Jatljer0. BY JOHN W. BE.OWNE. I DREAMED a dream. Time had withdrawn into himself the last fifty-seven years of our history, and they were as though they had not been. I stood in the Convention of Massachu- setts, met at Boston, in 1788, to consider of the adoption of the Constitution of the United States, just then proposed to the States of the Confederation the time of stillness and ex- pectation before the nation was born. John Hancock was in the chair. His compeers, to the number of more than three hundred, were seated before him ; graver and more manly persons than I meet as I walk these streets now. The clause, in the new Constitution, concerning the representation of three-fifths of the slaves, and that of the continuation of the A VISION OF THE FATHERS. 121 slave-trade till the year 1808, were under de- bate. A member rose, and said " Mr. President : I consider myself not as an inhabitant of Massachusetts, but as a citi- zen of the United States. My ideas and views are commensurate icith the Continent; THEY EXTEND, IN LENGTH, FROM THE ST. CuOIX TO THE ST. MARY'S ; AND IN BREADTH, FROM THE ATLANTIC TO THE LAKE OF THE WOODS ; for over all this great territory is the Fed- eral Government to be extended. No gentle- man within these walls detests every idea of slavery more than I do ; it is generally detested by the people of this Commonwealth; and I ardently hope the time will come when our brethren, in the Southern States, will view it as we do, and put a stop to it. The Federal Convention went as far as it could in regard to the slave-trade. The migration or importation, which is not to be prohibited till the year 1808, is confined to the States now existing, only; 11 122 A VISION OF THE FATHERS. new States cannot claim it. CONGRESS, BY THEIR ORDINANCE OF 1787, FOR ERECTING NEW STATES, DECLARED THAT THE NEW STATES SHALL BE REPUBLICAN, AND THAT THERE SHALL BE NO SLAVERY IN THEM." He took his seat, and another member rose and said " Sir, I have been sorry to hear so many objections raised against the paragraphs under consideration. I think them wholly unfounded. I think that gentlemen will do well to connect the clause concerning the representation of three-fifths of the slaves with the other Article, which permits Congress, in the year 1808, wholly to prohibit the importa- tion of slaves, and in the meantime to impose a duty of ten dollars a head on such blacks as should be imported before that period. Besides, by the new Constitution, each State is left, at its own option, totally to prohibit the introduction of slaves into its territories. What could the Convention do more ? It A VISION OF THE FATHERS. 123 would not do to abolish slavery by an act of Congress, in a moment, and so destroy what our Southern brethren consider as property. But we may say, that though slavery is not smitten ivith an apoplexy (yet by the clause permitting the prohibition of the slave-trade'] it has received a mortal tvound, and will die of a consumption" * As he was finishing, there came upon the wall, above the head of the President and over against all the members, drawing all eyes to itself, a map of the United States, as at the treaty of 1783, with outlines of fire the St. Croix, the St. Mary's, and the Lake of the Woods conspicuously marked. Soon the fiery outline expanded, and took in, first, Louisiana, and then Florida, and then Texas. The free * It was the current belief of the time that slavery was nourished by the slave-trade, and that if the trade should be suppressed slavery would die out. That day did not dream of slave-breeding. 124 A VISION OF THE FATHERS. States, to the number of thirteen, remained all in light ; and the slave States, to the number of fourteen, were all in shadow ; their names in solemn black, ending to the South with Florida, to the South-west with Texas. And Oregon, embraced within the fiery outline which had gradually spread itself to the West, was cqver- ed with the living figures of two adverse armies, rushing to battle. In the midst of the shadow appeared the veiled genius of Liberty, her drooping forehead resting upon her hand, her eyes sadly closed, while at her feet crouch- ed a slave. Beneath the whole, in letters of fire, UNITED STATES OF AMERICA IN 1845 SLAVE POPULATION THREE MILLIONS. While all eyes were fixed upon this it be- gan to pass away ; and in its place came out, on the wall, the figure of a man, with his right hand extended, branded S S, on the palm. He walked from the wall down in front of the President's chair, and seating himself by the A VISION OF THE FATHERS. 125 side of Solomon Freeman, of Harwich,* one of the delegates, he seemed earnestly to speak with him. As he passed from the wall, there took his place upon it the image of a prison, with its rows of cells. Over the door of one of them was inscribed, as on a grave-stone, CHARLES TURNER TORREY, of Massachusetts for five years from April, 1815, for aiding the escape of slaves. The door slowly opened, and there came from it the figure of a young man, pale and emaciated, who went directly to the seat of Charles Turner, one of the delegates from Scituate, and bowed his head upon his knees and embraced them, while the hand of the old man laid itself in benediction upon his head, and he bent down toward him as one listening. All saw how the face of the old man and the young man answered in likeness to each other, as it might even be father and son. * Jonathan Walker's home. 11* 126 A VISION OF THE FATHERS. All this passed in a preternatural silence, no man looking at his neighbor, but all at the scene before them. At length Charles Turner rose to his feet, and said " My brethren, our hopes are delusive. The prophecies of good which we have just heard here shall never be realized. Coming events have cast their shadows before, and we have seen them even now. Behold God has pictured to us what lies in the possibility of the future in embryo, in the womb of time, waiting for one act to be born into visible existence. By no act of ours shall this possibility be made fact. The curse of slavery shall live and not die, if by our act this Constitution is adopted. The suppression of the foreign slave-trade, after the year 1808, shall only give place to a domestic slave-trade, which shall make a coast of Guinea on this side the Atlantic. Proud Virginia, the land of Washington and Jefferson, exhausted in her soil by slavery, shall be abased into the slave- A VISION OF THE FATHERS. 127 breeder for this proposed union. We all see the revelation it is clear to us as the voice of God. The curse of slavery shall not only live at the South, if this Constitution be adopted, bat shall come home to our doors. My brother from Harwich shall declare what this revela- tion has specially opened to him, as I will now declare what it shall bring to the public weal, and what it has brought home to my house and heart." He proceeded to state, as prophecies, all the history of slavery under this government, as we to-day know it ; the purchase of Louisiana and Florida ; the Missouri compromise ; the Texas revolution and annexation ; the rewards offered in the Southern States for the persons of citizens of Massachusetts ; the rule for lay- ing petitions, touching slavery, upon the table in Congress; the resolutions to censure, the threats to expel from the House of Represent- atives, and murder, John Q. Adams, for his 128 A VISION OF THE FATHERS. advocacy of the right of petition ; the whipping of Amos Dresser at Nashville ; the- rifling of the Post Office and the burning of its contents in the square at Charleston, South Carolina ; the shooting of Lovejoy at Alton, in Illinois ; the mob, in Washington street, in Boston, haltering, and ready to murder, him who shall be, in all time hereafter, the most renowned son of Massachusetts ; the burning of Pennsyl- vania Hall ; the imprisonment of the colored citizens of the free States, in the Slave states, and their sale into slavery, to pay their jail fees ; the demand of the Secretary of State of the United States, in 1840, of England, to pay for American slaves cast upon her islands, as they were being carried to New Orleans, and liberated by her laws; the hopeless desecra- tion of the honor of Massachusetts, in the igno- minious expulsion of Mr. Hoar from Charleston and Mr. Hubbard from N. Orleans ; the meet- ing of organized rebels, pillaging the office of A VISION OF THE FATHERS. 129 Cassias M. Clay, in Kentucky to silence the only voice that had ever dared, in the slave States, to lift itself up for freedom to the slave ; the branding of the hand of Jonathan Walker, in Florida ; the imprisonment of Web- ster, and Paine, and Fairbank, and Work, and, finally, of his own grandson, the son of his daughter, Charles Turner Torrey, in the jail at Baltimore, for aiding slaves to obtain their freedom, in Maryland, in 1844. He sat down. A long period of silence followed; all sitting motionless in their seats, in the act of thought. Then they spoke to each other in consultation, and the vote was taken upon the adoption of the Constitution. It was rejected unanimously. All the New England and Middle States followed the ex- ample of Massachusetts; and, in the history of the Republic, the shameful events which slavery has written, stood unrecorded; the loom of time stopped ; and from the web of 130 A VISION OF THE FATHERS. our country's fate, as it was weaving there, the black, black threads were cut, and again it went on weaving. Boston, Massachusetts, U. S. A REMONSTRANCE. 131 3. Hcmonstrana. BY ALARIC A. WATTS. OH ! say not thou art all alone Upon this wide cold-hearted earth ; Sigh not o'er joys forever flown The vacant chair, the silent hearth ; Why should the world's unholy mirth Upon thy quiet dreams intrude, To scare those shapes of heavenly birth That people oft thy solitude ? Though many a fervent hope of youth Hath passed, and scarcely left a trace ; Though earth-bom love, its tears and truth. No longer in thy heart have place ; Nor time, nor grief, can e'er efface The brighter hopes that now are thine ; The fadeless love, all-pitying grace, That makes thy darkest hours divine ! 132 A KEMONSTRANCE. Not all alone ; for thou canst hold Communion sweet with saint and sage, And gather gems, of price untold, From many a consecrated page ; Youth's dreams, the golden lights of age, The poet's lore, are still thine own ; Then, while such themes thy thoughts engage, Oh ! how canst thou be all alone ! Not all alone ; the lark's rich note, As mounting up to heaven she sings ; The thousand silvery sounds that float Above below on morning's wings ; The softer murmurs twilight brings, The cricket's chirp, cicada's glee ; All earth that lyre of myriad strings Is jubilant with life for thee ! Not all alone ; the whispering trees, The rippling brook, the starry sky, A REMONSTRANCE. 133 Have each peculiar harmonies To soothe, subdue, and sanctify ; The low sweet breath of evening's sigh, For thee hath oft a friendly tone, To lift thy grateful thoughts on high To say thou art not all alone ! Not all alone ; a watchful eye That notes the wandering sparrow's fall, A saving hand is ever nigh, A gracious Power attends thy call. When sadness holds thy heart in thrall, Oft is His tenderest mercy shown ; Seek then the balm vouchsafed for all, And thou canst never be alone ! London, Eng. 12 134 THE DREAM WITHIN A DREAM. <&!) Prcam tmtljin a Prmm. ALTERED FROM THE GERMAN OF JEAN PAUL F. RICHTER. BY E. LEE. HIGH above the earth hung the serene sky. A rainbow, like the ring of eternity, encircled the horizon, and broken thunder-clouds, that still murmured with the retreating thunder, lay near the eastern gate of Eden. The evening sun looked behind tears in its setting, and shone on the thunder-clouds, and touched with glory the triumphal arches of nature. The spectacle made me happy, and I closed my over-full eyes. As the last rays of the sun penetrated my closed eyelids, I heard no sound but the low whisperings of nature. Then fell the dew of sleep upon my soul, and the spring around was shrouded with a soft THE DREAM WITHIN A DREAM 135 gray cloud; but soon, beams of light, in varie- gated lines of beauty, began to play upon the cloud, and in my sleep the cloud was painted over with the bright pictures of dreams. I dreamed I stood upon the SECOND WORLD. Around me were deep green fields, that in the distance seemed covered with flowers and variegated with broken woods, through which mountains, streaked with golden light, appear- ed. Meanwhile the meadows wavered, but riot as if touched by zephyrs, but by the invisi- ble wings of souls that hovered over them. These souls of the second world were to me invisible, for the body is there a transparent veil. On the shore of this second world stood the Virgin Mary, near her son, and looked down into our earth, with its pale and transient spring, that swam beneath them, as upon a sea of ether, and appeared only as a reflection of the sun upon its dark and troubled waves, 136 THE DREAM WITHIN A DREAM. Mary looked tenderly upon her old beloved earth, and said to Jesus " Ah, my son, my heart languishes to know something of my brethren upon the earth! Draw the earth towards us, that I may look into their eyes. Let me look into the hearts also of living men, and behold again their joys and their sorrows." Christ replied, " The earth is full of dreams ; thou must sleep, that they may appear to thee." Mary answered, " I will gladly sleep, that I may dream of men." But, said Christ, " What shall the dream reveal ? " " Oh," said Mary, " show me human love ! Show me human justice ! Show me the belov- ed, meeting again after a long separation ; and the suffering, made happy by human mercy." While she spake, the angel of sleep stood behind her ; and Mary sank back, with closed eyes, upon his breast. THE DREAM WITHIN A DREAM. 137 The earth arose, but as it drew near, it appeared smaller and paler than before. The clouds parted, and the fog rolled away, and laid open the night upon the earth, wherein its own stars were visible. The children of of the earth slept peaceftdly, and smiled when Mary appeared to them in their dreams. But in this night there was one unhappy ; one that no dream could soothe ; only her complaints were now silent, her sighs were exhausted, and her eye had lost all, even its tears ! An echo from the Gods-acre* repeated the sighs and the whispers from the house of mourning. The heart of the bereaved one melted within her, and the tears gushed anew from her wounded eyes, and she cried, beside herself with grief, " Didst thou call me, O ! beloved, with thy cold lips ? Didst thou speak to thy bereaved one? Oh, speak once again; only once again ! No ! all is silent ; there is no * Graveyard. 12* 138 THE DREAM WITHIN A DE.EAM. voice from the grave ! The buried lies dumb there, and his broken heart emits no sound ! " But Mary heard a voice that called from the second life " Wherefore weepest thou, be- loved ? Where have we been so long ? We dreamed that we had lost each other ! " They had not lost each other ; they had met again ! From Mary's closed eyes gushed tears of joy ; and before she could wipe them away the earth had again sank down. Now there arose a meteor from the earth, and a fleeting soul trembled at the gate of the second world, as though it had left the earth unwillingly. The body from which this soul had departed lay now in peace, although with all the deep-worn scars of a long life upon it. Near the fallen tabernacle of the spirit stood an old man, who thus addressed it : " I am as aged as thou ! Why then true, faith- ful wife, didst thou leave me alone ? Every morning, every evening, I think how low thou THE DREAM WITHIN A DREAM. 139 wilt sink in the earth ere I also shall sink beside thee ! Oh why am I alone ? No one listens to the old man now ! Every morning I long for thy true hand, and thy gray hair ; and that my feeble life may close with sorrow ! Ah! then, All- Good! close it to-day, without pain ! " But Christ sent not the death-angel with his cold hand. He looked himself upon the desert- ed old man with such a sun-warmth in his heart that the ripe fruit loosened of itself; and like a clear flame his spirit broke from his breast, and met, at the threshold of the SECOND WORLD, the beloved partner of his life; and gently, together, they entered Paradise. Mary reached both hands lovingly to them, and said, in her dream, " Blessed ! remain for- ever united ! " But wherefore is thy face so radiant, Mary, like that of a happy mother ? Is it because thy earth becomes more radiant with its spring 140 THE DREAM WITHIN A DREAM. flowers, and rises more nearly to the second world? Thou smilest as happily as if them saw a mother who had found her child. " And is it not a mother," Mary answered, " who bends herself, and opens her arms, and cries, ' My child ! come again to my heart ? ' Is it not her own child, that was so early parted from her, and now stands, innocent, near its guardian angel, so early made happy? The mother draws her again to her full heart, warm with a mother's love ! 'Oh ! look at me, thou dear one, and smile thus forever ! ' " Mary said, turning to her son, " Ah ! only a mother can love thus only a mother ; and her happiness is like that of the second world." Now ascended from the earth a crimson pillar of vapor and smoke, and gathered itself together to conceal a battle-field. At length the smoke parted and revealed wounded men, that lay in each other's bleeding arms. Among them were lofty friends, who had sacrificed THE DREAM WITHIN A DREAM 141 each other, and their friendship, to their re- spective countries. " Rest thy wounded breast on mine, beloved friend ! thou hast sacrificed me to thy country, and I, thee ! Now we may again exchange our hearts before our life bleeds away ! Ah, we can now only die with each other." But death turned back, and the iceberg with which it crushes mortals, melted upon their warm hearts. They rose from the terrible battle-field men, to whom the earth could give nothing more. Mary looked significantly at her son ; lie only could comprehend, and con- sole, and fill the hearts of such men. But Mary turned away her eyes, and mel- ancholy, even in her sleep, filled her heart ; for the voice of crime, and the moan of sorrow were still heard in her beloved earth. She slept again and now the sounds of jubilee and joy broke upon her dreaming ear. They arose far above our little earth, and 142 THE DREAM WITHIN A DREAM. reached the shores of the second world. Mary looked, and her face was radiant with a higher joy than had yet shone upon it. She saw that cruelty and oppression had ceased ; the chains of the slave had fallen off! Millions of human hearts that were full of tenderness, and honor, and noble virtues, had become free ! Families and friends were rushing together with cries of rapture ! Children were pressed to the hearts of mothers, who had groaned and lan- guished when they were torn away! Hus- bands and wives, separated and sold into distant slavery, were again united ! The young maiden, brutally forced to serve a strange master, had found again her betrothed ! Oh ! what a soul-reviving sound of deep heart-felt joy, mingled with gratitude and reverence, went up from these millions of human hearts. Mary looked at her son. A divine rapture irradiated her features. " Son," she said, " thy precepts are fulfilled upon the earth! Men THE DREAM WITHIN A DREAM. 143 begin to love each other as brethren! The great plague-stain and shame-spot is washed from our earth! The fair portion, where a pestilential vapor had hidden the slough of crime and cruelty, infamy and despair, is changing into a blooming Paradise of faith and love, human virtue and celestial hopes ! " I awoke ! My dream ! Ah, was it a dream ? Will it not be a reality? Boston, Massachusetts, U. S. 144 THINK OF THE SLAVE. of BY JOHN BOWRING. SONS of the hills! who feel the fresh, free breeze, See the free birds among the waving trees, Hear the glad sounds of heaven's free melo- dies Think of the slave ! Sons of the vales ! where flows the unfettered rill, Singing its inland song rejoicing still Wandering or lingering at its own sweet will Think of the slave ! Sons of the ocean ! when the raging sea Dashes the rocks, majestically free While the storm's thunders shout of liberty Think of the slave ! THINK OF THE SLAVE. 145 Sons of the desert ! where the fierce simoom Mantles with clouds the earth, the sky with gloom, But flees when gentler influences come Think of the slave ! Sons of the city ! where the eternal tide Of agitation rolls on every side, Urging its restless surges far and wide Think of the slave ! Sons of the Deity ! whose word hath said, " I of one blood have all all nations made, I am their common Father and their head " Think of the slave ! London, Sept. 29, 1845. 13 146 SELF-DENIAL. BT WILLIAM H. FURNESS. A GREAT crowd had gathered and were fol- lowing Jesus of Nazareth, that strange young man, wrought up to the highest pitch of ex- pectation by the astonishing things he was doing, and by the air of authority with which he bore himself. " This is the man," they began to say within themselves, " to lead us on to conquest, and realize the glorious predictions of our ancient prophets." Visions of greatness were beginning to flit before the excited im- aginations of the Jewish multitude. But in the midst of their glowing dreams, he, upon whom the public attention was so intensely fixed, and on whose steps this great crowd was pressing, turned, and said, " Who- soever doth not bear his cross and come after SELF-DENIAL. 147 me, cannot be my disciple." What a sensa- tion must these words have produced! Me- thinks I see the people turning one to another with looks of astonishment and inquiry, wondering what was meant. " What is it that he says? No man can be a follower of his unless he take a cross, that horrible instrument of death, and follow this Jesus, bearing it on his shoulders, like a doomed person carrying the cross on which he is to suffer, to the place of execution ! " What a revulsion must the language of Jesus have caused in the minds of the crowd ! How deeply must they have been shocked ! And, judging as the world is accustomed to judge, now-a-days, we must say that his lan- guage was very indiscreet. The idea of the present day is, that if one seeks to reform his fellow-men, he must be very cautious in the language he uses. He must take good care how he breathes a word that shall offend those 148 SELF-DENIAL. whom he is trying to correct. He must be careful not to waken the evil passions which he strives to chain. He must contrive to lull men into a sort of mesmeric slumber, in which their darling prejudices and beloved sins may all be skilfully amputated, without their ever having the slightest suspicion of it. Would to God there were such a way of getting rid of the evil that is in us, of cutting out the diseased parts of our spiritual frame, without wounding any sensibilities ! There are many wonderful discoveries in these days, but this would be the greatest discovery made yet. But there is no such way. Yet we would fain dream otherwise. And accordingly we must pro- nounce the language of Jesus very injudicious. There was he, trying to win people to listen to him ; and yet on a public highway, in the pres- ence of a promiscuous crowd, made up of wise and simple, friends and foes, he declared that to be a friend of his a man must hate father SELF-DENIAL. 149 and mother, and consider himself condemned to a most terrible death ! What occasion did he give to the evil-disposed to misrepresent, and to the well-disposed to misunderstand him ! " Why listen to him," might his enemies exclaim " he would abrogate the sacred dic- tates of nature. He teaches people to hate father and mother. He flies in the face of the instinct of self-preservation, the first law of our being, telling men they must hate themselves ! He is crazy, why hear ye him?" And his friends could only say : " He means well. It is a pity he talks thus, he only hurts his own cause." But the words of Jesus, which to our igno- rant way of thinking seem so unguarded, have proved to be words of consummate prudence, of the soundest judgment. What though they shocked all who heard them, although few or none caught so much as a shadow of their meaning ; what though they were uttered, inci* 13* 150 SELF-DENIAL. dentally, in an obscure corner of the earth, and no one stood by with pen in hand to write them down, and not an individual in all that crowd thought of committing them to memory ; yet they fell like drops of flame, and burnt themselves into the mind of the world. They passed from the lips of Jesus into the common air ; and now, for ages, they have floated like the air around the world, mingling with the elements which are the principles of all vital- ity. They could not but be remembered, and they will never be forgotten. They shall sound, as they have sounded, in the ears of centuries of men. And it is because they are so strong, be- cause they are weakened by no qualifying clauses, because they express a great truth greatly, with a force of expression correspond- ing in some degree to the importance of the thought expressed, for this reason they have been powerful enough to perpetuate them- SELF-DENIAL. 151 selves. Had Jesus spoken with caution, lie would have spoken without force. If he had startled 110 prejudices, he would have made no impression. It was needful that the hearts of men should be stirred to their inmost depths, that the truth might penetrate to their hidden springs. Besides, Jesus could not have spoken other- wise. He knew that what he had to say was true, and that being true, it was invested with the qualities of omnipotence and eternity, and had all the forces of nature, animate and inanimate, visible and invisible to protect and aid it. While, therefore, he never needlessly shocked human hearts, yet when occasion came for the truth to be spoken, he spoke it with a commanding authority, without qualifi- cation and without fear. Had he studied the caprices of men, had he timidly sought to avoid misapprehension, it would have implied a respect for the ignorance and willfulness of 152 SELF-DENIAL. men, which they do not merit, (for what are these against the truth of God?) and a distrust of the supremacy of truth, which would have ill become one who knew that he was repre- senting the majesty of the Almighty, and who had been foretold as one whose coming should be as with wind and fire from Heaven. The occasion demanded strong language. Those multitudes were following Jesus with hearts throbbing with hopes of vengeance and national renown. Had he shown the slightest disposition to avail himself of the interest he had awakened, they would have rushed to arms at his word. On other occasions he was forced to hide himself, so bent were the people upon making him their leader. On the pres- ent occasion, he was resolved, as it seems, to cut up their false expectations by the roots. They were hoping he would lead them to a throne. He saw before him the grim figure of the cross. He was declaring truths against SELF-DENIAL. 153 which an unprincipled hierachy were leagued. He saw how the things he said were at war with the established customs and institutions of the world around him, how men would be enraged at him, how necessary it was that he should seal his testimony to truth with his blood. A like fate, he knew, awaited every one who joined him. It was inevitable. The friend of truth must suffer, and must make up his mind to it once for all. Whoever intended to be a follower of Christ must steel his heart against all the importunities of affection and self-love. He must be as insensible to the strongest domestic ties as if no such ties bound him ; as indifferent to his nearest kindred and to his own life, as if he loathed them ; as fully prepared to be crucified as if he were bending under the weight of the cross and were on his way to execution. Shocking as this state of the case was, still it was the truth ; and it was necessary that the people should know it 154 SELF-DENIAL. Jesus wished them to count the cost of disci- pleship ; to follow him, not blindly, but with their eyes open, as he himself says in this same connexion. " For which of you, intend- ing to build a tower, sitteth not down first and counteth the cost, whether he have sufficient to finish it ; lest haply after he hath laid the foundation, and is not able to finish it, all that behold it begin to mock him, saying, this man began to build and was not able to finish." Such is the Christian doctrine of self-denial. Whosoever would be a friend of Jesus, must carry his cross and follow him. This was the indispensable condition. In no other way could one be a Christian. Is it so still? Or is it not so ? That the words of Christ had an application at the time they were uttered, which they have not now, I will not deny. But some seem to think that their pertinency is now wholly done away, that the day of persecution is past. But who says that ? It SELF-DENIAL. 155 is true, fidelity to truth does not expose one to the tortures of crucifixion. Still let any one endeavor to live by the plainest precept of Christ that reiterated commandment of his, for instance, which bids us love our neighbor as ourself, and acknowledge the lowest of men as a brother of Jesus, nay, as Jesus him- self, and he must be prepared to see friends grow cold, and hearts alienated, in whose good-will he rejoices. He must endure the reproach of an unwise zeal, and be content, if others in their charity only pronounce him. insane. In this proud day of Freedom and Christianity, it is not safe to plead the simple cause of Christian love, of human mercy. It endangers our comforts. It exposes us to cold looks and hard words, and fills our path with sharp and painful annoyances. These things are not to be named with the tortures to which the first friends of Jesus were subjected. Still such things are, and it requires the self- 156 SELF-DENIAL. renouncing spirit of Christianity to bear them ; and they show that self-denial is as necessary as ever. It is impossible to be a Christian without it. All claims to the Christian name, no matter how fully they may be conceded by men, are worthless without the spirit of self-sacrifice. Without that, no matter what else we have, we are strangers to Jesus no friends of his. And it is wise to consider to what such a condition of estrangement from him amounts. If we have no spiritual relation to him, if we lack the mind that was in him, we lack the spirit of true men. Alienated from him, from his truth and love, we are alienated from all good, all peace, all hope, all life. And the question whether we will adopt Christian truth and live by it, is a question of life and death with us, in the deepest meaning of the words. Shall our existence be a miserable defeat, or a glorious victory our joy or our SELF-DENIAL. 157 shame our heaven or our hell? Shall we join the immortal communion of the just, and rejoice in the ministry of all good angels ? Or shall we give ourselves up to be enslaved and tormented by the powers of evil and darkness ? This is the question, and nothing less than this ; and to one or the other alternative we must make up our mind. But how can we obtain this essential virtue of self-denial ? How get courage to encounter the deprivation of things which we fondly love ? How make up our minds to enter upon a path, of the difficulties of which we can see no end, no diminution but in the grave ? Jesus and his friends relinquished every pleasant prospect in life. Danger and death stood always before them. How can we ever find it in our hearts to follow them ? It is hard to bear the alienation of those we love, to ex- change their confidence for their indifference if not their ill will, to part forever with all the 14 158 SELF-DENIAL. delicious flatteries of friendship, and all the satisfactions of popularity. Where shall we get the strength that is needed ? If we rightly estimate the importance of being friends with Jesus, if we have a just sense of the worth of the things for which all these sacrifices are to be made, we shall find nothing in the world so easy as to do and endure to the uttermost for truth's sake. We shall rejoice to suffer for it. This is the way to destroy the difficulty of self-denial and give to its bitterness the sweetness of heaven by an entire devotion to right. When the heart is once possessed with this devoted love, there is no longer any such thing as self-sacrifice. Then we live. And life, by whatsoever bur- thens crushed, even under the terrible weight of the cross, becomes a luxury, and it is bless- edness to live even amidst tears and blood. This truth is illustrated in far inferior mat- ters. Let a man be inspired with an ardent SELF-DENIAL. 159 love of knowledge, and when lie is once an enthusiast in any department of science, there is no privation, no suffering that he will not endure, and cheerfully, for the sake of his favorite pursuit. Fatigue, hunger, thirst, sep- aration from friends and from all human so- ciety, the dangers of unexplored wildernesses, wild beasts and savages, all these things he accounts as nothing, if he is adding to the stores of his beloved science. You have heard of the surgeon who, after performing a painful operation, began to praise the fortitude of the patient, and was told that the patient had been screaming at the top of his voice all the while. But the surgeon had not heard him. Thus the action of the bodily senses even may be suspended, when any object has taken possession of the heart. The lover of gain to what sacrifices does he submit, of which he is wholly unconscious ! He cares neither for sleep nor food. All the enjoyments 160 SELF-DENIAL. of company, all the delights of the country he surrenders for the sake of his dim and dusty counting-room. He gives up all the pleasures of spending money, for the sole satisfaction of making it. No religious devotee ever submit- ted to greater self-sacrifices. But in fact he does not know what you mean, when you speak of his self-denials. He is happy in his bargains and his profits, and has meat to eat that you know not of. Would he speak his honest mind, he would pronounce literature, poetry, art, freedom, and truth, all the most arrant humbugs. In like manner the friend of Jesus and servant of Truth must be so occupied with his service it must be such a passion with him that he does not know annoyance. We read of martyrs feeble women, who have endured the acutest tortures without a groan with songs of triumph. The fact is they were so elevated by the consciousness of serving SELF-DENIAL. 161 the truth, that their physical sensibilities were deadened. Thus was it with the personal friends of Jesus very humble men, poor fishermen, whose aims never extended beyond the sea of Galilee and the simple occupations of then- craft, their boats, and their nets. But Jesus came and filled their minds with a great idea, and instantly they are emboldened to confront magistrates and mobs, and endure dungeons and death. Thus must all men, in all times, find strength to bear their burthens, to become men in great thoughts, in right principles sacred truths living in the heart, and opening its inexhausti- ble fountains of power. Thus alone can we do our duty in our social relations. We need the inspiration of truth, and the love of truth. This is the grace of God, this the power of the Holy Ghost, necessary to the growth of those private affections that gather round the domestic altar, and to the life of every great 14* 162 SELF-DENIAL. public cause, the establishment of a religion, the revolution of a nation, the vindication of great natural rights. We must have faith in principles Truth, Justice, Mercy, the found- ations on which the world rests, the pillars of the everlasting throne, the attributes of the Omnipotent, and then alone shall we have power. And although it may seem hard to become interested in these things invisible and eternal, as we must be interested ; although they now appear to most visionary, mere abstractions and not principles more solid than the rocks and mountains, yet God has made us to be interested in nothing so deeply. And there is nothing the worth of which is in so many ways made manifest The whole universe is the gospel of their kingdom, and poets, patri- ots, apostles and martyrs, all join in hymning their majesty. By the illustrations of their value which every page of man's history pre- SELF-DENIAL. 163 sents, by every violation of them that we witness, how solemnly is their sovereign dignity asserted! The wrongs of that great multitude upon our soil, who lie under the mountain- weight of merciless prejudice and trampled under the feet of unjust power, how do they appeal, irumpet-tongued, in behalf of Justice and Mercy ! The highest in nature is pleading thus with the highest and deepest in man ; and although individual voices may be silenced, this voice of God will keep sounding on, till all hearts quake at the thunders of its remonstrance. We may for a while persist in being interested in other things, in the vanish- ing shadows and corruptible gew-gaws of the senses. Still nothing can so take hold of the inmost heart of man, nothing so kindle it into a glow, as the sense of the right and the true. And the coolest, most self-interested and most' calculating man on earth shall throw his mon- ey-bags into the sea, if need be, and set fire to 164 SELF-DEXIAL. his houses, with his own hand, when once his heart is touched with the divine love of Free- dom, Justice, and Mercy. It is the love of all goodness, the love of God, the soul of all religion, the fountain of all life, the gate of Heaven. May God's grace descend upon us and breathe into us a boundless love of what is just and humane, and so give us to be partakers of the Divine nature and power. May humanity be the all-commanding interest with us; for what does the Lord our God require of us but that we do justly and love mercy and walk humbly with our God. Mark the phrase, love mercy. Love is active, irre- pressible. It does not fold its arms, but runs on the wings of the wind to defend the weak against the mighty, and to search out the cause of the friendless and the oppressed. Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, U. S. FIGHT ON ! 165 n! BY W M . LLOYD GARRISON. IN retrospection, champions of th' enslaved, Great triumphs have been won, as ye behold ; The foe grows weak as ye in hope wax bold, And greatly fears what once he madly braved. Yet, though your pathway be with glories paved, And fresh recruits are constantly enrolled, How much remains, ye need not now be told, For you to vanquish, ere the land be saved. Still groan the suffering millions in their chains, Still is the arm of the oppressor strong, Still Liberty doth bleed at all her veins, And few are they who side not with the wrong: Consider then your work as just begun, Until the last decisive act be done. Boston, November, 1845. 166 SOME PASSAGES 0ome |)assaje0 from joetr of Cife. BY MART HOWITT. HUMAN life is full of poetry. From the cradle to the grave the life of every man and woman is an epic poem. Look only at that little child, brim full of life and love and laugh- ter, with his round plump limbs, his rosy cheeks, his merry eyes sparkling with arch meaning, and his curling golden locks ; he is the very personification of every object and idea of happiness. He might fitly represent spring, or joy, or love ; for what does he know of faded or fading leaves and flowers, of hearts broken or of disappointed hopes ? Such a one as he might the second-born of Eve have been, ere he learned to tremble before the anger of his elder brother. Such a one might have been young John, girt about with his FROM THE POETRY OF LIFE. 167 garment of camel's hair, playing alone in the wilderness. Such might have been the very Saviour himself, seated on his mother's knee, and looking into her face with those eyes of intensest love, or playing, like a descended angel, beside the work-bench of the carpenter Joseph. Yes, indeed, a little child, whether prince or peasant, is beautiful in its young joyous hu- manity ! It is the opening page of life's epic, and it begins, like a spring morning, all songs and sunshine, and when every drop of dew is a lesser rainbow. Turn now to the closing page or rather look upon that old man. His frame is bent, his limbs are slow and heavy, his hair is thin and frosted and white as snow ; his eyes are sunken and dull, and he takes but a cool in- terest in whatever passes before him. Day after day, winter and summer, the whole year through, may he be seen breaking stones to 168 SOME PASSAGES mend the highway. God help him ! It is a joyless and monotonous occupation; yet that is a fair sample of old age, for the man is neither crippled by accident nor disfigured by disease. He will even laugh at some quiet jokes, or make merry over many a story of his younger days. He will tell you moreover that he has nothing to complain of; " he can earn his shilling a day; and, bless the Lord! the parish is willing to pay his rent." Between the first and the last page what a long and varied and strange history, yet all is poetry ! Not written out in measured lines to fall upon the ear with a sweet cadence, but to startle the heart with its vitality, to come home to our own bosoms with all the force of experience, and to infuse into our spirits a holy, yet sad sympathy, and a kindly Christian love ! Oh if we would but regard our human kindred in this broad spirit of philanthropy, how different would its lot soon become. For FROM THE POETRY OF LIFE. 169 this spirit is Christianity, which is poetry in its most elevated form, and in this spirit all men are brothers ! Then should we see many a sinner, not with the eyes of human judgment, but as the Saviour himself saw them. Un- happy women, walking the streets at nightfall, who, having taken one downward step, can never return, though weeping tears of blood sinking into irretrievable ruin, because they know that with their fellow-beings there is neither pity nor pardon even such should we often see more sinned against than sin- ning ; for the spirit of Christianity is emphati- cally that of mercy and forgiveness. But now let us return, and between the first few pages, which we hastily scanned, and the last, let ns open at random anywhere, and what shall we find ? There is the child at school, suddenly re- moved from all the domestic charities to a little world of strangers, and often, more 's the 15 170 SOME PASSAGES pity, very hard-hearted towards the new- comer. He wears, poor little soul, a brave face all the day, because he has been told that it is unmanly to cry ; but as evening creeps on, sad home-thoughts nestle about his heart, and come crowding into his brain, and, do what he will, he can resist no longer. And thus he gets his first bitter experience of an aching heart. Again, there is a group of poor children. It is an evening in May, and they are all busied over a little dreary triangle of mould in a din- gy corner of a dingy city-court. They are meanly clad, thin and squalid, and ill-grown, and one or two of them are crippled yet they seem happy at that moment. It is not seeming, it is reality, for they have this day a holiday. They are otherwise the bora thralls of Mammon, of the system which requires the daily labors of the poor man's youngest born to eke out the miserable daily pittance. Poor little wretches ! And yet for the present they FROM THE POETRY OF LIFE. 171 are happy. The day's work is for once remit- ted, and here in this dismal nook of the thickly peopled city, has the influence of Spring pene- trated, and they are making a garden ! What a melancholy attempt to create something pleasant to look upon. The meanest of us has an inborn craving after the beautiful. Thus is it therefore that the withered remains of the nosegay, brought by one of their fathers about a week ago out of the real country, are stuck about, looking to their imagination as natural as life. Yes, and there is the gerani- um too, which grows in a broken teapot, and has been borrowed for the occasion, from the good-natured widow in the corner ; and some- body else has contributed a sickly wall-flower which has languished, not lived, through the winter, in an old blacking-bottle ! This forlorn attempt at a garden is really a very affecting thing to any heart that has an atom of sympa- thy, and we should eschew the man who 172 SOME PASSAGES would scoff at it. For ourselves, we could shed tears over it, for it tells of strong but ineffectual yearnings, and of small experience, picking up two or three miserable grains of happiness, and contriving to make them yield marvellous contentment. But sadder by far than the squalid city children, playing at a sham garden, is it to see them, the melancholy victims of hereditary disease, lying on hospital beds we have seen them and who that has gone the round of a hospital has not? nor shall we soon forget them. In the midst of a room full of suffering wretches, lay one on its little bed, pale and patient, dying by a doleful disease, yet withal wonderfully beautiful. At that moment it was asleep, with flushed cheek, and abundant soft brown hair parted from its white forehead, and its thin pale hand, holding with a re- laxed grasp a gaily painted, and somewhat FROM THE POETRY OF LIFE. 173 expensive toy, which some visitor, touched with pity, like ourselves, had sent. We re- marked upon the beauty of the child. " Poor thing ! " said the kindly physician who was with us, " she has been with us two months, but she will not be here much longer." " Indeed ! " we replied with pleasure, " then she is much better." " She is incurable ! " replied he, " she must either die shortly, or live a loathsome specta- cle of disease." " Ay, poor dear," remarked the matron who was standing by, " it is a thousand pities, for she's as gentle as a lamb. But, bless you, we 've only too many such ! " So it was ! And as we left the walls of the hospital, we felt that twenty homilies could not have spoken half so forcibly in favor of virtue, as did the wretched, suffering forms of those guiltless victims of shame and sorrow ! But there are bright as well as dark pas^ 15* 174 SOME PASSAGES sages in this epic of ours. There is the band of rosy village children setting forth, warmly cloaked, this Christmas Eve, to sing in their sweet young voices some old carol which tells quaintly the glad event that happened in Gali- lee when the shepherds and the wise men also, went up, guided by the wonderful star, to worship and to rejoice over the new-born Saviour. Then there is the sudden striking up of sweet music at midnight, whether it be of heaven or of earth, we cannot at the moment tell horns and drums, and shrill fifes, and deep-toned instruments, to celebrate the same advent. And there is the ringing of bells on a bright calm Sabbath morning, filling the universal air with a floating murmur of sweet sound, for it is the Sabbath through the whole length and breadth of Christendom. In ancient famous cities peal out the cathedral bells ; and down in sequestered vallies among the pastoral hills, and from the rocky glens of FROM THE POETRY OF LIFE. 175 the mountains, wherever there is a village church, rises the glad sound also. We won- der no longer that honest John Bunyan tells us that " all the bells of the heavenly city rang again for joy as Christian and his companion entered at the Celestial Gate!" for there is no sound more joyful and heavenly than the ringing of church bells on a bright Sabbath morning. It is full of poetry ! And is there not poetry also in the throngs that pass onward on the Sabbath morning through the streets of cities, to their several places of worship ? Family after family are there ; the aged man and the infant, fathers, mothers and little children, rich and poor, all attired in their best, bound on the holy errand of worshipping the Universal Father. Yes. there is poetry in it ! So is there also and deep soul-stirring poetry too in the Catholic woman who has been forth on some little errand of household duty perhaps, and who 176 SOME PASSAGES places her basket beside her and kneels down a solitary worshipper in some ever-open cathe- dral. So also, when at the hour of vespers the toiling fishermen leave dragging their nets, and, taking off their caps and folding their hands upon their breast, sing the hymn to the Virgin. Or, when the little child, going or coming from school, kneels bareheaded at the wayside cross, repeats its simple prayer, and then runs homeward. Religion is poetry in its sublimest form ! Birth and death are the beginning and the ending of our epic, and christenings, marriages and funerals are consequently among its con- spicuous events. Hark ! now, how the bells ring again, the merry bells of one village see too, how the whole village is alive ! Old and young are looking out from door and win- dow, for the squire's daughter is this day to be married. " Happy is the bride whom the sun shines on," and this day the morning is golden FROM THE POETRY OF LIFE. 177 with sunshine. And see, here comes the bridal array, open carriages, prancing horses, smartly arrayed postillions displaying their white favors ; and there sits the bride blushing, in all her beautiful attire; and her attendant bridemaidens, all looking more lovely than common creatures of the earth. And the bridegroom and his men, how handsome and gallant are they ! It is a gay and happy com- pany ; who would not wish them joy ? There is something in all this, however, which causes a thrill at the heart, and sends the tears to the eyes. The very pageantry of the thing, independently of its human interest, has an electric effect on the spirit, for every pageant is more or less affecting. God help us, for simple-hearted souls ! but there has come a choaking sensation in the throat when even a Whitsuntide procession of matrons and maidens, each bearing " her flower-lipped wand," has passed in a goodly array, to the 178 SOME PASSAGES sound of music, and with a crimson and blue banner borne aloft, up the street to the open church; for there, too, we felt that there was poetry ! There is poetry too in every funeral. In that of the little child borne to its early grave by six young maidens, all in white. Yes, truly, in every funeral ! from the stately hearse with nodding plumes, and six black horses in their trappings of woe, with its attendant mourning coaches, its solemn mutes, and its coffined procession, by torch-light, to the ancient vault of the family ; aye down to that of the parish pauper, borne in his shell of naked boards 011 the shoulders of his pauper brethren, to his shallow grave in some crowded and desolate town church-yard. There is indeed much poetry in a funeral ! And who has not been suddenly aware, as we ourselves have been, perhaps in some dull winter's afternoon, of a low wailing music FROM THE POETRY OP LIFE. 179 coming onward from a distance, that never- to-be-forgotten " dead march in Saul," which announced a soldier's funeral? The most striking funeral however of this sort which we ever witnessed, had very little of parade about it ; it was merely the funeral of a young re- cruit. There came up the market-place of the town where we then were, this low sad melody; and then we saw not the plumed cap and sword laid upon the coffin, and the led horse, with the numberless accoutrements, nor, following after, his brother soldiers as mourners ; there was in this case only the old black hat, with its gaudy ribbons round it, and his old brown jacket for he was a coun- try lad, who had enlisted ; but immediately followed a woman, whom there was no mis- taking for a moment; she was his mother. She had followed her son from a distant county, full of trouble and anxiety, in the hope of buying him off and taking him back 180 SOME PASSAGES with her : for he was her only son, and she was a widow. She had sold and pawned various little articles to prepare herself for this long and arduous journey, and to release her prodigal. She came a stranger to the town, only to find her son dead, and to follow his body to the grave. To see her was to feel a portion of her anguish. A soldier supported her, and the loud wail of her lamentation mingled with the melancholy music. Never did the pathos of real sorrow strike our hearts as at that moment ! Are not meetings and partings also moment- ous tilings ? Lovers' first meetings, for in- stance, from which all after-life takes its tone of misery or bliss. And partings ! Partings on the eve of battle partings at the foot of the scaffold partings in the midst of ship- wreck, to meet again a few moments after, in eternity partings on the sea-beach fare- wells, whose tone can never pass away from FROM THE POETRY OF LIFE. 181 the heart and partings, also, sometimes of strange mystery. Do we not ourselves know the young wife, whose husband, a happy-visaged and kind-hearted man, and a man of easy cir- cumstances also, laid down the book he was reading to her after dinner, and taking up his hat, said he would return for tea ? " Good-bye, love," were his words, spoken with an un- troubled voice as he closed the door. He hummed a merry air as he stood for a moment on the outer step, passed into the street, and thenceforward was never heard of more ! He was a man of good reputation ; his fortune was prosperous ; not the slightest imputation was whispered against him ; he was happy in his home, a loving and beloved husband, and he had many friends ; there was no earthly reason for his concealing himself. It was broad daylight, in the long days of summer, and in a seaport town, where he lived and where he was well known. But neither in 16 182 SOME PASSAGES ship nor boat had he left the port ; nor could it be discovered that he had left the town either by coach or any other conveyance. The earth might have opened and swallowed him up, for any trace that could ever be gained. From that night forth he never was heard of, either in England or any other land. It was a mys- terious fate, to which death, in any form, had been preferable. " Good-bye, love ! " was forever in the ear of that bereaved woman, and she became old before her time. By intense listening, night and day, for his returning footstep, she has become partially deaf; there was a wild anxiety in her eye whenever the door opened, which told painfully what had become the habit of her mind through melancholy years of hope deferred. What his fate really was, heaven only knows, and whether he will ever return. Were he ever to do so, their meeting- moment would be the concentrated joy of a FROM THE POETRY OF LIFE. 183 life ; like a condensed essence, strong enough to kill. Yet there have been such meetings. Ship- wrecked men have returned after long years of absence ; prodigal sons have come back to their fathers' house ; the secret captive has been released from his prison-cell, and restored to his family like one whom the grave had given up ; for human life, as we have before said, has many a sorrowful and many a strange incident. Clapton, England. 184 CHARACTER. Bonnet... .Character. BY WM. LLOYD GARRISON. WHO talks of weariness in Freedom's cause, Knows nothing of its life-sustaining power; Who in the conflict for the right would pause, Beneath a tyrant's rod was made to cower ; Who something loves more than his brother man, Holds it more sacred, at a higher price, Fails to discern Redemption's glorious plan, Or in what sense Christ is our sacrifice ; Who stands aloof from those who are agreed In charity to aid and bless mankind, Because they walk not by his narrow creed, Himself among the fallen spirits shall find ; Who would show loyalty to God must be At all times true in man's extremity. Boston, November, 1845. THE CHURCH. 185 BY WENDELL PHILLIPS. " Let not the Pope, the bishops, or the monks exclaim against us, WE are the Church ; he who separates from us, separates himself from the Church. There is no other Church save the assembly of those who have the word of God, and who are purified by it." MELANCTHON. " One hour of justice is worth seventy days of prayer." KORAN. " CEASE to trouble our meetings with this subject. The Church is no Anti-slavery So- ciety." Will you join me then in a specific effort to abolish slavery ? "No. "Pis a dangerous thing this forming of societies for each single evil. I preach the Gospel, which will gradually cure them all." Doubtless the Gospel is the only cure for human evils and sins the cross of Christ the only sheet-anchor for the hopes of the race. From the newly opened pages of the Bible 16* 186 THE CHURCH. burst forth the dawn of that civilization which gladdened the West of Europe. That same sun still rides high over its noon and is to know no setting. All this we acknowledge ; but hcnv is the work to be done ? Not by Christian scholars growing gray over the disputed texts of the Epistles : Not by divines immersed in the question whether a goblet, or a running stream is necessary for Baptism : Not by churches rent asunder with theories of three orders of clergy, or none. No. But by the earnest thought and works of Christian men and women, looking not at the things which are behind, but pressing forward to grapple with the wants and the woes of their own day. Why does God's spirit strengthen human nature with all the graces of the Christian character? That the pos- sessor may sit and contemplate his own per- fections ? If he do, like the youth of classic THE CHURCH. 187 fable, his soul will die feasting on its own beauty. That he may build up a sect ? That he may sit and think how surely he would have avoided the scepticism of the Sadducee, or the bigotry of the Pharisee, and not have stoned the Prophets ? No. Men and women are endowed by Christianity with hearts lifted above selfish- ness filled with love for their race con- vinced of the possibility of virtue of the safety of doing right of the value of truth not only or wholly for their own sakes, but that these powers may be used intently and earnestly in analysing the institutions and exposing the corruptions of society, defending the rights of the poor, seeking out the hidden sources of public suffering, "attending to the neglected and remembering the forgotten ! " Christianity is not merely a contemplative hermit, rapt in visions and dwelling on its own states of feeling no acute metaphysi- 188 THE CHURCH. cian, nervously weighing creeds but a living voice, crying to the busy throng, " repent ; " a denouncer of "wickedness in high places," telling unjust wealth to "weep and howl;" bidding " kings to rule in righteousness ; " full of woes for such as " devour widows houses ; " setting "at liberty them that are bruised." She is as proud of Benezet as of Pascal ; and loving Fenelon well, gives as bright a crown to Howard, and girds as cheerfully for the battle the rough and sturdy frame of Luther and the wild zeal of Savonarola. Now-a-days the mass of society recognise the duty and the worth of alms-giving and Sunday Schools cheap soup and the primer. For the Church remains a higher and a harder work. Standing in the van, her prophetic eye should be the first to descry suffering, even though the cloud be no bigger than a man's hand: her heart, touched with liveliest sym- pathy, is to be poured out first in its behalf: THE CHURCH. 189 hers is to be that wisdom, the child of good- ness, which \sfirst to devise the remedy. How shall that body dare to call itself the Church of Christ, which allows any, out of her pale, to go before her own sons in keen sym- pathy with suffering, or active effort for its relief? In the tender heart, the open hand, the brain that beats not for sectarian or selfish ends, but only that the wide race may be hap- pier and better, dwells the true Church of Him " who went about doing good." Instead of this the Church, which has been for ages getting ready to do her work, now refuses to set about it. Having scattered so long the seeds of reform and elevation, she sits still, now that the fields are white for the harvest. She disowns the principles which have sprung from her bosom, brands them as infidel, and gathers into her idle fold those timid sheep, which she can still govern, lest they be corrupted by the "running to and 190 THE CHURCH. fro and increase of knowledge" the very blessing of which her prond prophets heralded her as the bearer. Claiming to have on the breastplate of righteousness she refuses to have anything to do with the battle. Claim- ing to hold the sword of the Spirit she keeps it nicely sheathed, while other men contend for the faith once delivered to the saints. The Church rests, even in her own theory, (among us) when she has reformed her own subjects, forgetting that other duty of using their virtues and her position to reform the guilty institutions of society. This is her theory. In practice she rests without reform- ing either the individual or the mass. Her army is all equipped and she idly expects to keep them active and disciplined without exercising their virtues in constant warfare. God has paid back this desertion of her post with barrenness. After copying the THE CHURCH. 191 Jesuits " in lengthening the creed and shorten- ing the Decalogue," Christians seem to think that Christianity itself, in the abstract, is some- how or other to work wonders, but with all that they have nothing to do. " Stand still, and see the salvation of the Lord," said Dr. Arnold, "was true advice to the Israelites on the shores of the Ked Sea. It would have been false when they were to conquer Canaan." Boston, Massachusetts, U. S. 192 TO THE TRANS-ATLANTIC Ctnes TO THE TRANS-ATLANTIC FRIENDS OF THE SLAVE. BY DANIEL RICKETSON. YE, who across the broad Atlantic wave, Have sent your kindly voices hitherward, Whilst those who should by our right side be found, Have recreant proved to Nature and to Truth, We gladly hail ye as our cherished friends ! Ye, who afar from such heart-rending scenes, As blot the fair fields of our native land, Have wept to hear the distant tale of woe. Ye, in whose breasts no base-born hate resides, Ye, who can look on Afric's sable sons, And call them brethren, heirs of the same rights, That the great Giver of all good designs For Man, wherever found throughout the globe. FRIENDS OF THE SLAVE. 193 We love to rank ye with, the truly great The noble benefactors of our race. Clarkson, thy life awakens in our souls, The truest worship due to Love and Truth. Our infant lips oft lisped thy reverend name, And with increasing years our love has grown. And ye of later date, ye noble ones, To whom we owe so much of cheer and strength ! Your names are watch-words in our sacred cause. Thompson, thy thrilling tones of eloquence, Upraised for Scotland in the name of Right, Not yet have died away upon our ears Those words of truth are treasured in our hearts. Bowring, thy gifted pen, so freely lent, To spread the cause of Freedom and of Truth ; Haughton and Webb, so constant at your posts, Ye clear and fearless pleaders for the Right ; And Martineau and Pease, your generous aid, 17 194 TO THE FRIENDS OF THE SLAVE. We fondly prize among our choicest gifts : Abdy, thee, too, whose rich and classic claims Are unsurpassed but by thy feeling heart ; And Morpeth, nobler in the cause of Truth, Than in thy own illustrious name and rank ; We love ye all, and in the Bondman's name, Invoke Heaven's blessings on your noble lives. Woodlee, New Bedford, Massachusetts. ANTI-SLAVERY AT THE WEST. 195 Hecollectums of ^tnti-SlaDnrg at % BY CAROLINE M. KIRKLAND. ONE of the most striking features of a residence in Detroit to me at least is the frequent arrival of escaped slaves, on their way to Queen Victoria's country. Scarce a week passes that parties of worn wayfarers the lashes sometimes yet unhealed on their poor shoulders do not present themselves to the friends of freedom, imploring aid to cross the river into Canada. Sometimes one solitary wretch the wreck of a strong man, perhaps with his iron joints and their wiry sinews almost laid bare by famine, his heart sunken to infant weakness, and unbidden tears coursing down his cheeks, as he tells his hapless tale, asks aid, which a few days more of suffering would have rendered unavailing. 196 RECOLLECTIONS OF " Are you a single man ? " said a dear friend of ours once to just such an one. " Wife and seven children, massa," was the reply; and with it such a burst of grief as unnerved all present. Harpies, such as money will always buy, haunt the ferry and the avenues leading to it, so that the steamer, which plies continually between Detroit and Sandwich, is of no service to the fugitive. In canoes, at dead of night, " in silence and in fear," do the descendants of those who left all for Freedom, submit to smuggle into the dominions of the very power against whose tyranny their ancestors revolted, native-born Americans, driven into exile by the injury and oppression of their own country- men. And when the canoe reaches British ground, before dry footing can be obtained, what sights have the noble beings, who peril so much for the unfortunate, witnessed among these poor ANTI-SLAVERY AT THE WEST. 197 souls, who are thought by some to Jiave no souls ! What plunging into the shallow water, and wading to the shore so longed and prayed for ! What prostrations upon the earth, what shouts and tears of joy, what madness of ex- ultation, that the goal is at last reached! What kissing of the friendly soil British soil! Alas! Alas! Not always alone, or accompanied only by fellow-sufferers, do these poor dumb witnesses of fraternal cruelty seek the Canadian shore. An incident, which will forever be fresh in our memory, occurred while we were residents of the West. A family of slaves, wearing not the crushed aspect of the fugitives we were accustomed to see, made their appearance at Detroit, decently clad, and accompanied by their mistress and owner. She, a woman of little education and plain manners, had not only willed to emancipate them, but, in order to assure the freedom which she knew would 17* 198 RECOLLECTIONS OF be so insecure in a slave state, had left all, and travelled with them, through incredible difficulties and embarassments, even to the verge of that country which alone, of all the earth, is capable of the desperate attempt to make Freedom and Slavery walk hand in hand. She was unacquainted with even so much geography as would have taught her the States through which she must pass to reach Michigan ; and her inquiries on the road had been answered by information purposely cal- culated to mislead and perplex her. She had been for years laboring under a conviction that she had no right to those slave-people, though she had not so much as heard that there was a body of persons calling themselves Abolition- ists, who interested themselves in favor of those in bondage. Not one single human being among her neighbors and acquaintance who did not condemn her course ; not one to whom she could look for advice or sympathy. ANTI-SLAVERY AT THE WEST. 199 Yet this uncultivated but lofty soul was un- daunted, and quietly followed up its noble purpose, until the whole number of grateful freed-men were safely landed upon the shores of Canada. Then did their happy friend, no longer bur- thenecl with the title of mistress, take leave of her charge, amid the unutterable blessings of their hearts, and return to the American side to sleep and, as she said, in peace, for the first time for years ; so dreadful had been her sense of wrong, and so great her fear that death might interpose before her plans and their great result could be consummated. One of the earliest and warmest friends of the slave, in the State of Michigan, was Dr. Arthur L. Porter, who departed this life in the height of his usefulness only a few months since. For years he labored almost single handed, enduring opposition, contempt, slan- der, loss of worldly goods, all that the 200 RECOLLECTIONS OF worldly spirit most fears and hates, deter- mined to awaken the generous heart of the West to the true view of the slave question He was well known in New England as a person of high scientific attainments, and he entered upon the practice of medicine at De- troit under such auspices as would have insured success. But the avowal of decided anti-slavery sentiments was at that time equivalent to renunciation almost of daily bread, when that bread was to be earned among those who were called the "higher classes" at the West. Day after day saw every engine which the world knows so well how to turn against those who unflinchingly follow out the dictates of conscience, brought to bear against Dr. Porter. His character was maligned, his medical practice traduced, and every death that occurred among his patients was made the instrument of a fresh attack on his reputation and his means of living. ANTI-SLAVERY AT THE WEST. 201 But without one moment's wavering with an eye single, as it would seem, to the one holy purpose to which he had devoted his life, did he pursue his course, until, before his death, the goodly leaven had spread throughout the mind of the State; and nowhere at the North has a wanner and more decided anti- slavery sentiment sprung up than in Michigan. Nowhere are conventions more eagerly attend- ed, funds more liberally contributed, and talent and effort more freely offered in the service of Freedom than in that far away State; and of all this, we who watched the whole progress of the change, consider Dr. Por- ter to have been, under the blessing of Heaven, the author and most earnest promoter. His fellow-citizens, to their honor be it spoken, learned to know his worth. When he was suddenly stricken from the ranks of Christ's own faithful soldiery, the tears of all who had lived within his influence attested 202 RECOLLECTIONS OF how lovely is goodness, and how ill the world can spare its light ; and the whole city felt the blow with a sensibility alike honorable to the deceased and to itself. No purer spirit ever toiled and prayed for its welfare; and none has been more sincerely regretted. When one remonstrated with Dr. Porter upon the loss and hatred he was incurring in the anti-slavery cause, he replied, " Loss ! If by laying down my life I could advance the emancipation of our slaves but a single day, I could do it cheerfully ! " And without doubt he spoke the words of truth and soberness. May God supply so great a loss by sending many such laborers into his vineyard ! Noble souls there are yet on the same ground, con- tending still with ignorance and prejudice enough ; but the way is comparatively smooth before them ; and it may reasonably be hoped that before long it will be as impossible for the ANTI-SLAVERY AT THE WEST. 203 slave-catcher to exercise his blood-guilty trade in the state of Michigan, as it now is within the time-honored shadow of Faneuil Hall. New York. 204 PHOBBE MALLORY. iltallon) ; % last of % BY EDMUND " But when returned the youth? The youth no more Returned exulting to his native shore ; But forty years were past, and then there came A worn-out man, with withered limbs and lame ; His mind oppressed with woes, and bent with age his frame." CEABBE. I WAS once a great pedestrian; and have performed feats in my time, which, should entitle me to a respectable standing, if not an exalted rank, in the sporting world. I used to think little of forty miles a day; and have " made " my six miles within the hour. But all that is over. " It is not now as it hath been of yore ! " "Walking, for its own sake, like virtue on the same terms, is but too apt to be an enthusiasm of youth. I have not, indeed, entirely sub- sided into the opinion which a gentleman, THE LAST OF THE SLAVES. 20-5 recently deceased, who successively distin- guished himself in the gay world, at the bar and in the pulpit, once pronounced ex catfiedra, in my hearing, that "legs are given to man only to enable him to hold on to a horse : : ' but still a sober ten miles satisfies me now. It will be well for me if this be the only good habit of my youth from which I have fallen away. During my days of pedestrious grace I resided in Boston, and my walks made me tolerably familiar with the beautiful country that environs it for ten miles on every side : itself being ever the crowning charm of the landscape. It is a great advantage Boston possesses over most other cities that one can almost immediately exchange the bustle of the streets for some of the most lovely and rural scenes in the world. An hour's drive, or an afternoon's walk, transports you, as it were, into the heart of the country. The winding IS 206 PHCEBE MALLORY; country roads, and green lanes, hedged with barberry bushes, might beguile you to believe that you were a hundred miles from a great city, were you not continually tempted to turn and see how gracefully, at airy distance, she seems to sit upon her three hills and lord it over the prospect. One fine autumn afternoon, about ten years ago, when I had been " Wasting in wood-paths the luxurious day," I found myself on the summit of one of a chain of hills, looking towards the city. And what a prospect lay before me ! On my right were hills covered with woods clothed in the gorgeous hues of autumn, looking like troops of " shining ones " just alighted on some mis- sion of mercy ; in the middle distance, tufted groves, village spires, farm-houses, meadows dotted with cattle, and a brimming river sparkling in the slanting rays of the sun ; in THE LAST OF THE SLAVES. 207 the distance the city, relieved against the Blue Hills ; and on the left the noblest burst of ocean ! Nahant breaking the expanse, with Egg Rock beyond, and then stretching leagues and leagues away, till it had put a girdle round the earth ! It was a noble pros- pect! After I had feasted ray eyes and heart on these glorious apparitions, I was recalled to a sense of the things of earth by the reflection which was forced upon me, that I had had no dinner. I accordingly marked from my hill- top, where all the country lay mapped out at my feet, the course I would pursue on my return home. Descending the precipitous face of the hill, I plunged into " an alley green, With many a bosky bourne from side to side," which led me, though somewhat deviously, in the direction of the city. After I had followed 208 PHCEBE MALLOEY; its windings for some miles I began to wax thirsty, and, to say sooth, a little weary to boot. So I looked about me, as I walked, for some hospitable door at which, though no saint, I might ask for a cup of cold water. I pique myself on my skill in the physiog- nomy of houses, and it is not at every door, any more than of every man, that I would ask a favor. Accordingly I passed by several houses of some pretensions, but which had to my eye an ill-favored and ill-conditioned express- ion, and passed onward till I came to one that I thought might answer my purpose. It had not much to recommend it in its exterior. It was a cottage of the very humblest descrip- tion, the walls of bare boards, blackened with age ; but yet there was something about it that made my heart warm towards it. It stood a little withdrawn from the road and the grass grew green up to the broad flag-stone, half sunk into the earth, which served for its door- THE LAST OP THE SLAVES. 209 stone. There was no litter or dirt about the door, the windows were all whole, and there was a general air of neatness about it which showed that the poverty of the inhabitant was at least not sordid. It had a promising look and I knocked at the door. It was opened, after a short interval, by an "old old" woman, as black as jet, slightly bent by age and leaning upon a staff. Though not expecting to see a person of color, I was pleased to find, that, as far as I could judge from her appearance, I had not been deceived by the lineaments of her habitation. Her dress was of the coarsest materials, but the snowy whiteness of her cap and handkerchief and the scrupulous cleanliness of her checked gown proved the presence of that virtue which is said, on high authority, to be akin to godli- ness. She received me with the kindliness and good nature which mark her race, and, upon making my necessities known, she cor- 18* 210 PHCEBE MALLORY; dially invited me to walk in. This I did, nothing loth, and while my hostess was select- ing the best of her three mugs for my service, I seated myself, at her pressing instance, in one of her two flag-bottomed chairs, and took a survey of the premises. They were rough and bare enough, God knows ; but still were not without that air of comfort which thorough neatness and good order can give to the humblest dwelling. Her house could boast of but one apartment; but that was sufficient for her purposes. A bed, two chairs, an invalided table, and a pine chest made up the sum of her furniture. The walls could boast of no decoration except a print, over the head of the bed, of the capture of Andre, in which the cow-boy militiamen were looking most truculently virtuous as Andre tempted their Roman firmness with a watch of the size of a small warming-pan. The floor was well scrubbed and sanded, and THE LAST OP THE SLAVES. 211 some peat embers smouldered upon the hearth. After I had slaked my thirst with some deli- cious water, of which she was justly proud, all cold and sparkling from the open well, ministered unto by the picturesque puritanic well-pole, she resumed her chair and her knitting; and, as I rested myself, I entered into conversation with her. She seemed pleased with the interest I felt in her affairs, and simply and frankly told me all she had to tell about herself and her way of life. She had lived on that spot for many years, and had mainly depended upon her skill as a laundress for her subsistence. As she had grown old, however, and the infirmities of age began to press heavily upon her, she confined herself to the nicer branches of her profession ; for the exercise of which the ladies of the neighborhood supplied her with ample mate- rials. Whatever deficiency there might be in her means of comfort, after she had done her 212 PH(EBE MALLORY; best to provide them, was cheerfully made up to her by the kindness of her neighbors. For, to do them justice, neglect of the poor, black or white, at their own doors, is not one of the vices of the people of New England. She seemed to be very well satisfied with her share of the good tilings of this life, and evinc- ed a degree of unaffected contentment which is not always seen to accompany a much higher degree of prosperity. I was greatly interested in her character and history, and never walked in that direction again without calling to see her. In the course of my ac- quaintance with her, I learned, at different times, the simple incidents of her story, which I am about to relate. They seemed to me, when I heard them, to be worth the telling ; but I am by no means sure that anybody else will be of the same opinion. Such as they are, however, you have them here. THE LAST OP THE SLAVES. 213 Phcebe was born somewhere about the mid- dle of the last century, in the family of the Honorable James Mallory, for many years one of His Majesty's Council for the Province of Massachusetts Bay. He used to live in that fine old house with the Corinthian pilasters, and the magnificent lime trees in the court-yard, which stood on your left hand as you went down King Street towards Long Wharf. It vanished years ago, and gave place to one of the granite temples of Mammon which have long since thrust from their neighborhood all human habitation. There was Phosbe born. Her father and mother were both of them native Africans, who had lived out all their life of servitude under the roof of Mr. Mallory. They were fortunate in falling into such good hands. The few New England slaves were mostly owned by the wealthy families and were chiefly employed as house-servants, and their treatment was at least as good as that of 214 PHCEBE MALLOKY; the same class in any country. But, Phoebe said, nothing could prevent her father from remembering the day, when, as he was hunt- ing the hippopotamus in the sacred river that flowed by his hut, just as he leaped from his iron-wood canoe to draw the monster ashore by the line fastened to his spear, a party, of a hostile tribe, rushed from among the reeds and hurried him to the sea-coast, fifty miles away, and there sold him to a Bristol trader. To be sure he had obtained civiliza- tion and Christianity by his involuntary emi- gration ; but as the one appeared to his half- savage mind to consist in wearing clothes and cleaning another man's shoes, and the other in sleeping 011 his knees through family prayers, and in being obliged to listen, from the gallery of the Old South Church, for several hours every Sunday, to sermons which he could never have comprehended, delivered in a tongue he very imperfectly understood, he THE LAST OP THE SLAVES. 215 must not be blamed as ungrateful if he thought them but inadequate compensations for the exchange he had made of the sunny skies and golden sands of Africa for the leaden firmament and rocky coast of New England. Phcebe was more fortunate than her parents in being " native, and to the manner born ; " so that her lot was much more tolerable than theirs. She was kindly treated, and taught to read and write. She felt all the strong attachment of the African race to the house in which she was bora and to the family which had brought her up. To the end of her days she believed that there was never a house that equalled in magnificence that of Mr. Mallory in King Street. There was never any tiling half so graceful and dignified as the manners of Mr. Mallory himself, or half so beautiful and accomplished as the daughters, or so handsome and good-natured as the sons, 216 PHCEBE MALLORY ; of his house. Many were the old-world stories she told me of the loves and the feuds of that generation, of their joys and their griefs, of their festivities and their funerals. A petted slave, brought up from infancy in one of the foremost families of a small com- munity, such as Boston was then, she became a perfect incarnation of all the gossip and scandal of that little world. And some very choice bits of both I extracted from her, I assure you. She, certainly, had no artistic skill in her narrations, and yet there was a life in the very simplicity with which she related facts, which painted them vividly to the mind's eye; and, I think, I have a clearer notion of the way in which people lived in Boston eighty years since, from them, than from more generally recognised authorities. Her admiration, however, was not entirely monopolised by the higher powers of the family. There was a certain Ambrose, who THE LAST OF THE SLAVES. 217 had also been born in the house a few years before Phoebe, and had been brought up along with her, who claimed his share. They had played together as children and worked together when they grew older, and it will not surprise the experienced reader to hear that they fell in love with each other as soon as they were old enough to take the infection. Ambrose was a fine, well made, athletic young fellow, shrewd and capable, and of the most imperturbable good humor. His skill in music was such that he was often summoned to the parlor, with his violin, to excite the dance, when his young masters and mistresses had their friends with them. Both Ambrose and Phoebe were great favorites with the whole family, old and young, bond and free, and their loves were looked upon by all with complacent eyes. They formed a little under- plot in the domestic drama, which was not unamusing or uninteresting to the actors, 19 218 PHOEBE MALLOKY; or actresses, in similar scenes, above stairs. Their true love flowed smoothly on, and it seemed as if no obstacles could be interposed to disturb its course. It was a conceded thing, that at some convenient season Ambrose and Phoebe were to be married. While the affairs of the humble lovers were in this prosperous train, great events were at the door. The signs which prognosticate a coming storm were frequent and menacing. Voices were heard in the air telling of disaster and woe to come. Portents were seen in the political firmament, " with fear of change, Perplexing monarchs." It was obvious to all discerning persons, who Were willing to see, that great changes were at hand. Mr. Mallory was a tory, as might be expected from his official station and position in society. Like many others of his way of THE LAST OF THE SLAVES. 219 thinking, he exaggerated the power of the British king to suppress disaffection, and undervalued the powers of resistance of the Colonists. Though he had never permitted himself to doubt that the fever-fit of the province would soon pass away, still his position was sufficiently disagreeable while it lasted. He had made himself obnoxious to the popular party, and his situation was at times worse than disagreeable, it was absolutely unsafe. Phoebe described to me the night when the mob, flushed by the impunity which had attended their previous excesses, came trooping down King Street to execute summary justice on the tory Mallory. Their approach was so sudden that the family had barely time to escape, as they were, through the garden, leaving the candles burning, and the work-boxes and books open on the table, as they fled. 220 PH(EBE MALLORY J Mr. Mallory's house would probably have shared the fate of Governor Hutchinson's, had it not been for a singular and unexpected diversion. When the mob were gathering in the street in front of the house, and preparing for the assault, the hall door opened suddenly, and Ambrose, like a new Orpheus, issued from it with his violin in his hand. He immediately struck up a lively air, and the effect was magical. The many-headed mon- ster was in a better humor than usual that night. Whether it was that the edge of its appetite was in some degree taken off by the sop it had already had, or whether it was that the patriotic punch (which has never yet had its due as one of the main promoters of the Revolution) had not yet more than half done its work, still the mood of the mob was changed at once from mischief to fun. This unexpected apparition moved their mirth, and THE LAST OF THE SLAVES. 221 Ambrose, taking advantage of their humor, performed such antic tricks in the moonlight as threw them into inextinguishable fits of laughter. With all the caprice of a mob they soon began to dance, themselves, to his music, and not all the influence of their leaders could bring them up again to the point of mischief: "So Orpheus fiddled and so danced the brutes ! " This danger over, the arrival of the British regiments prevented any apprehension of its renewal. But the situation of the Mallories was gloomy and uncomfortable ' enough. The gaieties, which the arrival of the forces pro- duced, in the loyal circles, were no compen- sation for the breaking up of old friendships, and for the doubt and uncertainty that hung over their future. At last the provincial re- sistance began to assume a more threatening form. The siege clasped the town around with its iron arms. The beautiful hills which 19* 222 PHCEBE MALLORY J encompass the town were now changed into mimic volcanoes, belching forth fire and smoke and death against it. All who could, and dared, fled from its borders. Mr. Mallory's political offences were too flagrant to allow him any choice. He was obliged to abide by the result of the conflict where he was. To be sure neither he nor his children would ever admit, even to themselves, the probability of the rebels being ultimately successful ; but then there could not but be painful misgivings as to what might befal before the insurrection was finally quelled. It was a dismal winter, indeed, as Phosbe told its private history. Not all the balls and assemblies and private theatricals that were devised to while away the weary hours, could dispel the sense of pain and apprehension which their situation excited in the breasts of the loyalists. It was not long before the forebodings of their prophetic hearts were fulfilled. The THE LAST OF THE SLAVES. 223 dreary winter wore away and the dreary spring began. The intentions of the com- mander-in-chief were kept strictly secret ; but there were plenty of surmises abroad as to what they were. But that Boston, open as it was to the sea, of which England was the mistress, would be occupied by the British forces until the rebellion was suppressed, was a thing that had settled down into a recog- nised certainty. It could not enter into a loyal heart to conceive that the royal troops could be dislodged from the capital of New England by the rabble-rout that surrounded them. But at last the fatal news fell upon their ears like a clap of thunder, that the town was to be evacuated and abandoned to the besiegers ! What distress and despair of those who had placed themselves and all they had under the protection of the British sceptre, and who found it powerless in their utmost need ! All remonstrance on their part was in vain. 224 PH(EBE MALLORY ; General Howe was inflexible, for he knew that his post was no longer tenable; but he assured the distressed loyalists of all possible assistance in removing their persons and ef- fects beyond the reach of the exasperated rebels. Phoebe described to me with life-like effect, for it was what she had the most to do with, the confusion of the few days that elapsed between the announcement of the intended evacuation and the embarkation. The grief of the Mallories at leaving the home of their childhood, perhaps forever, and the uncertainty which hung over their future fate, was dis- turbed by the necessity of deciding which of their effects they should take with them. A limited amount of freight was all that could be possibly assigned to each refugee, and it was hard to decide among all the objects which habit had rendered necessary or association dear, which should be chosen and which THE LAST OF THE SLAVES. 225 abandoned. All was hurry and bustle and distress. They were obliged to select such articles as contained the most value in the compactest form, and to leave the rest behind. Their clothes, plate, jewels and such other valuables as they could compress into the smallest possible space were all that they could take with them. But all the old companion furniture, speaking to them of ancestry and of happier days, the family pictures, the trifles which affection magnified into things of mo- ment, because they were seen through the atmosphere of love and friendship which sur- rounded them, all, all had to be left behind them. It was a dreadful night, that of the 17th of March 1776, the last that they were to spend in the home of their fathers. Early the next morning they were to embark on board the transports, to go they knew not whither. The young ladies, deprived of their usual employ- 226 PHOEBE MALLORY; ments, and their recent mournful occupation being over, as the trunks and packing-cases were already on board, wandered about the house, from room to room, like ghosts haunt- ing scenes once loved, reluctant to look their last upon those beloved walls. The gentle- men of the family were busy in making what arrangements they could to secure the wrecks of their property. It was long past midnight before they retired to rest, if rest they could, for the last time under that old-accustomed roof. They had not been long retired, how- ever, when they were aroused again by a clamorous knocking at the door, and the intel- ligence that they must repair at once on board ship, if they would not be left behind. The rebels had taken up a position on Nook's Hill, which rendered it necessary to evacuate the town at an earlier hour than the one first appointed. The confusion may be imagined. The carriage was at length at the door, and THE LAST OF THE SLAVES. 221 performed its last service, in conveying the family to the wharf, before it passed into the hands of the patriotic gentleman who had purchased it at a fourth of its value. They found, with some difficulty, the transport assigned to them, and, embarking, awaited the signal of departure. While they were thus expecting their sail- ing orders, one of the young ladies discovered that, in her hurry, she had left her watch behind her. It had a value beyond its intrinsic worth, as having belonged to her mother. Her distress was great, and the question arose whether there was time to send for it. The captain of the transport gave it as his opinion that there would be ample time. Then, who was to be the messenger? Ambrose could not be spared from some essential service in the arrangement of the luggage; so Phrebe alone remained to perform the errand. She was accordingly despatched with strict injunc- 228 PHCEBE MALLORY; tions to make a speedy return. It was a raw blustering March morning, and as Phoebe threaded the narrow streets the light snow was blown in fitful gusts in her face. She made a somewhat wide circuit to avoid the principal streets, which were now full of sol- diers, the inhabitants being under orders to keep within doors until a certain hour. She had some difficulty, too, in procuring the house-key from the neighbor who had charge of it ; and when at last she obtained entrance, it was still dark and she had to strike a light in order to commence her search. Every- thing seemed to conspire to delay her return to the ship. And after she had procured a candle, the object of her search was not to be found. She looked for it in every place where it should and where it should not be, but without success. This consumed many precious moments. At last she abandoned the matter in despair, thinking that her young THE LAST OP THE SLAVES. 229 mistress must have the watch about her, after all, or else it had been dropped on the way to the ship. After securing the house again, she made what haste she could to the wharf. But what was her amazement and despair at seeing no sign remaining of the good ship on board of which all her treasures were em- barked ! She could not at first believe her eyes, and she stood for some time in mute astonishment. But, before long, her mind received a distinct impression of the dreadful truth, and she made the air resound with her shrieks and lamenta- tions. She flew distractedly up and down the wharf, imploring to be taken on board some of the transports destined for the same port, but no one had any leisure to attend to her. It was in the height of the hurry of the embark- ation, and ship after ship was dropping down with the tide and making what haste they might to Nantasket roads. Almost immediately 20 230 PHCEBE MALLORY ; after Phoebe had left the ship, orders came down directing her to get underweigh directly, and she was already out of sight. She remain- ed on the wharf in a state but little removed from distraction, renewing her entreaties to all she met for assistance in regaining her master's party. But all the reply she received was curses and orders to mind her own business and to get out of the way. Exhausted at length by her exertions, and finding there was no hope for her, she returned, in agony of mind, to the deserted house in King Street. There, in solitude and despair, flung upon her face on the nearest sofa, she lay for hours weeping as one that refused to be comforted. The merry peals of the bells, and the distant sound of military music, might have told her that General Washington and his victorious army were making their triumphal entry into the town ; but she neither heard nor heeded them. Her heart and her eyes were following THE LAST OP THE SLAVES. 231 the stout ship which was bearing away from her, probably forever, the friends of her child- hood and the lover of her youth. In this state she continued for four-and- twenty successive hours. Bat after the first paroxysm of grief and despair had exhausted itself, Phoebe was not of a nature to abandon herself to fruitless repinings. It was fortunate for her that it was necessary to take some immediate measures for her own support. For the poor girl was now in a singularly unfortu- nate predicament. She absolutely belonged to nobody. The imperfect legislation of those primitive days had not provided for such a case of destitution. Had she had the luck to live in these times, in the Southern States, such an anomaly could not have occurred. There, the abeyance of the abandoned proper- ty in herself would have been terminated in favor of the fortunate finder ; or, at worst, it would have resulted to the State. But in 232 PHOBBE MALLORY; those days, before political economy, she was suffered to escheat to herself! And so she had nobody to take care of her! Thanks, however, to the thorough breeding she had received in Mr. Mallory's house, she was able to command at once her choice of the best services in the town; and she was soon as comfortably situated as she could be under her unhappy circumstances. The long years of the war, of course, cut off all definite intelligence of the Mallories and of Ambrose. And the longer years of the peace, which followed it, brought little more satisfac- tory information about them. All that was certain was, that Mr. Mallory had been pro- vided for by an appointment in Antigua, and it was taken for granted that he had proceeded thither with his family. The humble Ambrose of course had no share in these imperfect advices, and Phoebe was left to guess at his fate as best she might. The Mallories left no THE LAST OF THE SLAVES. 233 relatives behind them in the province, and all interest in them or their affairs soon died away. There was but one humble heart Phoebe's in which they occupied all the room that was not before engrossed by Ambrose, their slave. Meanwhile, more than thirty years rolled away since the emigration. Phosbe was be- come a prosperous woman. She had been for some years retired from service and had invested her earnings in a small confectioner's shop, which was well frequented by those who respected the excellence of her character and of her pastry. She had never married though not unsought but still remained con- stant to the memory of Ambrose ; though she had for many years abandoned all hope of ever seeing or hearing of him again. One aftemoon as she was sitting, sewing, behind her counter, a man entered her shop. His dress was sordid and travel-stained, and he walked with difficulty, supported by a 20* 234 PHCEBE MALLORY; rough, stick. He stood with his back to the light, so that Phoebe could not see his features distinctly. He stood and gazed long and earnestly in her face. She grew alarmed and asked his business. In the act of replying he shifted his position so that the setting sun shone full upon him. She started from her seat, shrieked, and fell senseless upon the floor. " I dropped," to use her own words, " as if I was shot ! " It was Ambrose himself, come in the flesh to claim her at last. Happily joy is not a mortal disease, or Phoebe might not have survived to tell me her story. Water was at hand, and she soon opened her eyes upon the face of him whom she had loved so long and well. It was changed indeed. Years of slavery had not passed over his head without leaving furrows on the brow and wrinkles on the cheek. But still it was his face, and that was all she asked. Time and ill usage had THE LAST OP THE SLAVES. 235 grizzled his hair and bent his broad shoulders ; but to her eyes he was still young, for she saw him with the eyes of her heart. It would be hard to say whether pleasure or pain predominated in that first interview. But it was not long before they knew that they were happy. Phrebe took Ambrose to her house, fed, clothed and nursed him ; and finally married him. And though their union was late, and did not continue long, it was as happy a marriage as ever knit two hearts in one. The story of Ambrose, when he was able to tell it, was simple and common enough. He had followed his master from Halifax to Lon- don, and from London to Antigua. There Mr. Mallory died. The young ladies married and returned to England, and the sons took to bad courses and died not long after their father. Ambrose was taken in execution for a debt of the last of them, and sold to a Jamaica planter. In Jamaica he suffered for many years the 236 PHCEBE MALLORY J horrors of sugar-making, aggravated by the contrast of the easy service of his previous life. A few months before, he was sent to Kingston with a load of sugar, and finding a vessel on the point of sailing for New York he conceal- ed himself on board, and succeeded in effecting his escape. Arrived in New York he begged his way to Boston, being detained on the road by a fever caused by the sudden change of climate, and arrived foot-sore, weary and sick at heart, little expecting the happiness that awaited him. Before long Ambrose grew weary of the town, and as his health had never been good since his return home, Phrebe sold her shop and bought the cottage in which I found her. Here they supported themselves comfortably enough for the few years that Ambrose lived. But the hard winters of New England were too much for the constitution of one so long accustomed to the climate of the tropics. He THE LAST OF THE SLAVES. 237 died of a consumption, lovingly watched over and tenderly mourned by his faithful Phoebe. ****** Such is a plain narrative of the incidents of her life, which I gathered from Phosbe Mallory in the course of my acquaintance with her. I think that they might have been invested with a good deal of romantic interest, had they fallen into the right hands. But such as I have I give unto you. Phoebe always averred that she was the last surviving slave in the State; and as I could not contradict her, I was willing to believe that it was so. I confess it increased my interest in her, and made me look upon her in some sort as an historical character. And I could not but think of the day when the last American slave will excite a feeling in the breast of some future inquirer, somewhat analogous to that created by the sight of the 238 PHtEBE MALLORY ; last mouldering fragment of the Bastile. May that day soon arrive ! Several years ago I removed from the city and lost sight of poor Phoebe. Not long since, having a leisure day in town, I felt strongly moved to go and see if she were yet alive. Yielding to the impulse, I took the well re- membered road that led by her hut. But it had vanished away, and in its place stood a fine Gothic cottage, with an Egyptian entab- lature at one end supported by four fluted Doric pillars. I knew at the first glance that it would be of no avail to inquire after my old friend at such a structure as this. So I con- tinued my stroll till I came to the village about two miles off There I inquired of the first man I happened to meet, whether he knew anything of the fate of Phoabe Mallory. I was in luck in my man ; for he chanced to be none other than good master Sexton himself. With the cheerful solemnity which marks his calling, THE LAST OF THE SLAVES. 239 he informed me that she had died about three years before and was buried in the church- yard over against which we stood. I asked him to show me her grave, which he did with professional alacrity. It is the third grave beyond the elm tree, on your right hand, as you enter the gate, next the wall. I could not but feel a sense of satisfaction, mingled with regret, at the loss of my good old friend, to think that the last relic of Massachusetts' slavery lay buried beneath my feet. I felt proud of my native State for what she had done, as a State, to mark her aversion to slavery. And I hoped that the time was not far distant when she would brush aside the cobweb ties which prevent her from telling the hunter of men, in yet more emphatic tones, that her fields are no hunting-grounds for him. I have no taste for monumental memorials, as a general thing. At least, I see no fitness in attempting to preserve the memory of 240 PHCEBE MALLORY. mediocrity or obscurity, by monuments whose very permanence is a satire on the forgotten names they bear. But I have no quarrel with the feeling which prompts men to mark with marble the ground where the truly great repose ; or to record the resting-place of humbler merit, when it is fairly invested with some just historic interest. Of this latter class I esteem the grave of Phosbe Mallory. And I shall think it neither absurd nor extravagant, if, within a few months, a plain white marble slab should be found marking the spot where she lies, with an inscription somewhat to this effect : "HERE RESTS FROM HER LABORS, BENEATH THE FREE SOIL OF MASSACHUSETTS. Pffbe ittallorji, THE LAST SURVIVOR OF HER SLAVES ! " Dedham, Massachusetts, Nov. 1845. THE FALCONER. 241 &!) .falcoiur. BY J. R. LOWELL. I HAVE a falcon swift and peerless As e'er was cradled in the pine, No bird had ever eye so fearless Or wing so strong as this of mine ; The winds not better love to pilot The clouds with molten gold o'errun, Than him, a little burning islet, A star above the sunken sun. But better he loves the lusty morning When the last white star yet stands at bay, And earth, half-waked, smiles a child's fore- warning Of the longed-for mother-kiss of day ; Then with a lark's heart doth he tower 21 242 THE FALCONER. By a glorious, upward instinct drawn, No bee nestles deeper in the flower, Than he in the bursting rose of dawn. What joy to see his sails uplifted Against the worst that gales can dare, Through the northwester's surges drifted, Bold viking of the sea of air ! His eye is fierce, yet mildened over With something of a dove-like ruth, I am his master less than lover, His short and simple name is Truth. Whene'er some hoary owl of Error Lags, though his native night be past, And at the sunshine hoots his terror, The falcon from my wrist I cast ; Swooping, he scares the birds uncleanly That in the holy temple prey, Then in the blue air floats serenely Above their hoarse anathema. THE FALCONER. 243 The herd of patriot wolves, that, stealing, To gorge on martyred Freedom run, Fly, howling, when his shadow, wheeling, Flashes between them and the sun ; Well for them that our once proud eagle Forgets his empire of the sky, And, stript of every emblem regal, Does buzzard's work for slavery. Mount up, my falcon brave and kingly, Stoop not from thy majestic height, The terror of thy shadow, singly, Can put a thousand wrongs to flight ; Wherever in all God's dominions One ugly falsehood lurks apart, Let the dread rustle of thy pinions Send palsy to its traitor-heart. No harmless dove, no bird that singeth, Shudders to see thee overhead ; The rush of thy fierce swooping bringeth To innocent hearts no thrill of dread ; 244 THE FALCONER. Let frauds and wrongs and falsehoods shiver, For, still, between them and the sky, The falcon Truth hangs poised forever, And marks them with his vengeful eye. Elmwood, Nov. 26, 1845. IS THERE ANY FRIEND ? 245 Is tljere ang JFrt BY ADIN BALLOU. I AM a slave. The hand of violence holds me. I was stolen from my birth by one who calls himself a man, a republican and a Chris- tian. He says I am rightfully his property, because my grandmother was kidnapped from Africa, and my mother was holden a slave by his father. If I assert that I am a man, notwithstanding the wrongs done to my pro- genitors, he frowns, and seizing the scourge, bids me be silent. I learn that this nation is professedly republican, and has declared that all men are inalienably entitled to " life, LIB- ERTY, and the pursuit of liappiness" I hear that they are called Christians, and believe that every man sJiould do unto others as he would be done unto. Yet / am a slave, and treated as a beast, not as a brother man. I have thought 21* 246 IS THERE ANY FRIEND ? to fly to some distant part of the country ; but I hear that the citizens of the whole nation are in a league to return me to my master. Some- times I have meditated the dreadful alternative of raising an insurrection among my fellow- slaves, and thus obtaining my rights ; but I am told the whole army, navy, militia and treasury of the nation are sworn to crush the attempt. I have proposed to petition the Congress of the Union for redress ; but I am apprised that slave-holders are at the head of the govern- ment, and in full control of the National Legislature ; that by constitutional league they hold political power, beyond others, equal to three-fifths of their human cattle ; and that they declare slave petitions an intolerable in- sult to their dignity. They will not permit a petition from slaves to be received. I have turned to the ministers and churches of re- ligion to intercede for me. A few have wept and prayed and plead for me; but the mass IS THERE ANY FRIEND ? 247 have been dumb, and some of the most influ- ential have boldly taken sides with the op- pressor using all their eloquence, learning and sanctity to make it appear that God wills, the Bible teaches, and the Saviour of the world approves of, SLAVERY. I have cast my implor- ing eyes upon the great seats and professors of literature in the land, but with no better re- sults. I would sue for sympathy to the mer- chants, the manufacturers, the bankers, the wealthy and affluent ; but they are either too busy to notice me, or interested with the oppressor, or intermarried with his family. I would, if I could, hope something from poli- tics ; but all parties are alike sworn to the same compact, at least till it can be altered, and are seeking their own glory rather than the slave's redemption. Moreover, the great De- mocratic party, whose most renowned apostle taught the universal equality of human beings, in their natural rights, and who truly asserted 248 IS THERE ANY FRIEND ? " that one hour of our bondage was fraught with more misery than ages of" colonial sub- jection to England this very party, claiming to be of and for the common people, and being in power, have forcibly annexed a vast terri- tory to the nation, out of complaisance to slave-holders, and for the indefinite extension of their oppressions. I would cry in the ears of the great mass of working men for help ; but they are prejudiced against my color; they are afraid I shall come and dwell among them that I shall associate with them, and share their advantages; they had rather see me and my posterity forever slaves, than run the risk of being annoyed by our freedom. What shall I do? To whom shall I look? Whither shall I turn ? Must I, must my child- ren, must their children, and all our children's children, be forever slaves ? Is there no friend ? These chains ! these scourges ! these insults ! these violent separations of the dearest rela- IS THERE ANY FRIEND ? 249 tives ! these degradations of body and mind ! this ignorance of all that might enoble and bless ! these groanings of spirit for liberty ! these complicated miseries ! THIS SLAVERY ! must they be eternal? WOMAN, tender, sym- pathetic, affectionate, persevering woman, I turn to God and thee. Help the slave ! Think of the slave ! Plead for the slave ! Labor for the slave ! Save the slave ! Be thou the sun that shall melt down the icy hearts of men in our behalf; that shall change public sentiment throughout the land ; that shall give the nation a new, merciful and just goverii- ment ; that shall make all the people willing to let the oppressed go free. And then the blessings and gratitude of the ransomed shall be thine to a thousand generations; hover- ing over thee as a cloud of fragrant incense, and ascending upward to Him who sitteth in the heavens, our common Father. Hopedale, Massachusetts, U. S. 250 THE SLAVE-MOTHER. BY MARIA LOWELL. HER new-born child she holdeth, but feels within her heart It is not her's, bnt his who can outbid her in the mart ; And, through the gloomy midnight, her prayer goes up on high, " God grant my little helpless one in helpless- ness may die ! If she must live to womanhood, oh may she never know, Uncheered by mother's happiness, the depth of mother's woe ; And may I lie within my grave, before that day I see, When she sits, as I am sitting, with a slave- child on her knee ! " THE SLAVE-MOTHER. 251 The little arms steal upward, and then upon her breast She feels the brown and velvet hands that never are at rest ; No sense of joy they waken, but thrills of bitter pain, She thinks of him who counteth o'er the gold those hands shall gain. Then on her face she looketh, but not as mother proud, And seeth how her features, as from out a dusky cloud, Are tenderly unfolding, far softer than her own, And how, upon the rounded cheek, a fairer light is thrown ; And she trembles in her agony, and on her prophet heart There drops a gloomy shadow down, that never will depart ; 252 THE SLAVE-MOTHER. She cannot look iipon that face, where, in the child's pure bloom, Is writ with such dread certainty the woman's loathsome doom. She cannot bear to know her child must be as she hath been, Yet she sees but one deliverance from infamy and sin, And so she cries at midnight, with exceeding bitter cry, " God grant my little helpless one in helpless- ness may die ! " Elmwood, Nov. 26, 1845. WHAT IS ANTI-SLAVERY WORK ? 253 iDljat is 2lnti-0latW2 ttlork? BT LUC RETIA MOTT. The person alluded to in the following communication, was placed in the State's Prison in Baltimore owing to some bankruptcy in the family where she had been held a slave, and was likely to be sold away from all her relatives and friends. A feeling appeal was made to the friends of Freedom in Philadelphia, on her behalf, more than a year ago, accompanied by the suggestion that a fund should be raised, to be applied to such cases, and advising our young people to retrench their expenses in superfluities, in order to have it in their power to contribute to the purchase of such as had peculiar claim on the sympathy of the benevolent. MY DEAR FRIEND, E. H. R. I HAVE not been unmindful of the contents of thy letter. Could an answer have been given in accordance with thy wish for the poor objects of thy sympathy, it should sooner have been done. After a free and full discussion of the ques- tion of purchase, at a meeting of our Female Anti- Slavery Society, the following resolution was passed by a large majority : 22 254 WHAT IS ANTI-SLAVERY WORK? "Resolved, That while we deeply sym- pathise with those who are making efforts for their own emancipation, or that of their relatives and friends, by soliciting funds to purchase their freedom from those who unjust- ly hold them in bondage, we nevertheless must decline all pecuniary aid in such pur- chase, regarding contributions for this object as a worse than useless appropriation of money, and as an indirect support of slavery. " Resolved, That we will discourage such contributions, because those who give aid in this way, erroneously imagine they are pro- moting the cause of human freedom, when they may, in fact, be only transferring the bonds to others, equally entitled to their liberty." The case of the poor victim of the op- pressor's power, so feelingly depicted, is a peculiarly hard one. But, were the circum- stances attending the imprisonment and sale of WHAT IS ANTI-SLAVERY WORK? 255 other inmates of that horrible prison, made known, we might find most of them claiming the especial sympathy of hearts interested in their behalf. Should all the victims of this monstrous oppression be purchased from the inhuman trader in men, he would doubtless advertise for more. And while the disposition of the slave-holder is unchanged, and the trade is legalized, the supply would be furnished. It is worthy of consideration, whether such purchase be not indeed an acknowledgment of the right of property in man, and therefore inconsistent for abolitionists to encourage. For years, my sympathy was so wrought upon by the many cases of peculiar hardship, which an intimate acquaintance with the atro- cious system of American slavery discloses, that, without much reflection, I contributed my mite toward the purchase of slaves. But further reflection and observation convinced me that it was misdirected benevolence not 256 WHAT IS ANTI-SLAVERY WORK? in accordance with the dictates of true human- ity. The sum obtained in this way is often used for the purchase of other slaves, thus keeping up the inducement, either to kidnap the poor creatures on the coast of Africa, or to " breed " and raise them for sale in the north- ern slave States. Here, an indirect support is given to the system, even while we would fain persuade ourselves that we are aiding in its abolition. If the sums, raised for this object, were appropriated to the enlightening of the public mind on the enormity of the whole system, how much more effective would it be! Many young people, in this city, are dis- posed to curtail their expenses in dress, and other indulgences, in order to aid in the circu- lation of anti-slavery truth, through the length and breadth of the land. We have evidence that the appeals to the conscience and best interests of the slave-holder, are not made in WHAT IS ANTI-SLAVERY WORK? 257 vain. The occasional response from the South, as well as the reiterated cry for liberty from our Northern land, cheers us onward in our holy enterprise. Let us then extend our benevolence to the whole class of " the suffering and the dumb," rather than expend our means in acts of sympathy towards a few isolated cases. Thine for the oppressed, L. MOTT. Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. 22* 258 GOD AND LIBERTY. " <8>0& anir Ctbertg." BY CASSIUS M. C LAY. FOR full four thousand years or more, The glorious sun arose and set O'er Heaven, earth, and ocean's shore, In discord met ; Till God himself, worn with the strife, Of man and all material things, From his mysterious presence, life And quiet brings. First, sounding o'er Judea's shore, The everlasting fiat fell : Earth, ocean, and the Heavens adore And hosts of Hell ! Delphos, and the Olympian Jove, And Israel's consecrated fane, Awed by the living voice of love, Ne'er speak again ! GOD AND LIBERTY. 259 Nor mystic priests, nor Magi more, Darkly disclose the will above, Since Christ the emblazoned banner bore, " Man ! God, is love ! " From tyrant hands the sceptre falls, From the assassin's grasp, the sword ! Liberty bursts her prison walls, Quick, at the word ! Man cannot dam the river's flood, He cannot stay the eagle's flight, Nor tame the tenants of the wood, In all his might ! Then, " spirit of the chainless mind " That rides the storm the ocean wave, Quick as the lightning or the wind, Art thou a slave ? No ! man may spurn the law Divine, Like Persia's tyrant chain the sea ! With cords and walls the limbs confine, The mind is free ! " Lexington, Kentucky, Nov. 1845. 260 INFLUENCE OF EMIGRATION. lift F .emigration SUE LE SORT DE LA RACE AFRICAINE AUX ETATS UNI3 D'AMERIQUE. PAR LIN STANT. C'EST surtout aux Etats Unis d'Amerique que le prejuge de couleur a atteint son apogee. Nous ne trouvons dans les annalles de 1'escla- vage des negres aux Antilles, rien qui puisse lui etre compare. II n'est done pas sans interet de rechercher quelle influence exerce sur le sort des esclaves, et des classes de couleur libres, 1'emigration des Europeens aux Etats Unis. La condition avilie de la race Africaine dai les Etats de 1'Union etant bien comprise, n'est pas difficile de concevoir aussi pourquoi chaque Europeen qui aborde ces pays, contri- bue plus ou moins directement a entretenir, ou INFLUENCE OP EMIGRATION. 261 plutot a accroitre, le prejuge des blancs centre la couleur des negres. Ceux qui emigrent, sont en general, des individus qui vont chercher en pays etrangers les moyens d'ameliorer leur fortune, toutefois lorsqu'ils ne sont pas des gens qui trouvent plus avantaguex de s'exiler volontairement que de tomber aux mains de la justice de leur pays. Acquerir des richesses, voila leur but, et ils tachent d'y aniver, " per fas aut nefas." Sitot que les emigrants Euro- pe ens touchent le sol Americain, le premier spectacle dont ils sont frappes c'est 1' existence de deux castes: 1'une composee de blancs, c'est a dire, de privilegies de 1'education, des l^richesses, des emplois, des honneurs ; 1'autre tde noirs, c'est a dire, de parias de la societe, d'opprimes. Mus par leur interet prive, les emi- F grants se mettent naturellement avec les riches et les puissants; car ils ont compris que, si quand ils sont dans le Nord, ils se permettent de condamnerle prejuge de couleur, et de jnger 262 INFLUENCE OF EMIGRATION. leurs semblables, non pas d'apres la teinte plus ou raoins coloree de leur epidemic ; mais d'apres leurs qualites morales et intellectuel- les ; ou bien si, quand dans le sud, ils censurent la pratique ignoble et degradante de 1'esclavage, peu importe d'ailleurs la forme sous laquelle se raanifeste leur sentiment, que ce soit en actions ou en paroles, ils seront immediate- ment consideres comme des ennemis de la communante, et ils verront la porte de la fortune qu'ils sont venus chercher, se fermer a jamais sur eux. Lorsque la morale et 1'e- goi'sme ont a lutter ensemble, bien rarement voyons lions la premiere triompher. Si ces deux antagonistes ne peuvent s'accorder et marcher de front, 1'homme trouve toujours d< motifs specieux pour ecouter la voix insinuant de son interet prive. Telle est I'alternath dans laquelle se trouve I'emigrant Europeen, qu'il a a se decider entre ses devoirs d'homme, de membre de la grande famille humaine, et INFLUENCE OF EMIGRATION. 263 son egoi'sme, son bien etre particulier ; c'est at dire, entre la pauvrete, on du moins la medio- crite et des desagremens ; et les richesses, les plaisirs de la vie ; son choix est bientot fait : il prend le dernier parti, et il s'imit aux oppres- seurs du pauvre. Chacun d'eux se repete ces paroles du premier egoi'ste et du premier assassin: " Suis-je le gardien de mon frere?" paroles qui seront aussi im jour sa propre condamnation. Port au-Prince, HaVti. Sonnet in ilUmorj) of (Eltjabetlj Jrg. BY ANNE WARREN WESTON. " In prison and ye visited me." THROUGHOUT all earth, adown all coming time, Where'er the Gospel's promises are heard, There shall the human heart be thrilled and stirred By the remembrance of a love sublime, That, blotting out long years of grief and crime, Forever glorified one woman's name. Friend of the prisoner! shall not thy sweet fame, Like that of Mary, reach to every clime ? It was not thine to pour rich perfumes down Before the very presence of thy Lord; But, in the poor, the outcast and abhorr'd, Shrinking beneath the world's unpitying f] Thou didst the image of thy Saviour see : Shall He not say, " thou didst it unto me ? " Wey mouth, Massachusetts. THE WORST EVIL OF SLAVERY. 265 U)or0t ml of iroi the BY WILLIAM HOWITT. THE worst evil of slavery in a country is that it debauches the public mind, destroys the public sensibility, makes a nation a nation of Jesuits and hypocrites. The very religion of Christ is made to pander to the sordid evils of slavery. Its sacred sanction is pleaded for its existence, while it is carefully withheld from the knowledge of the slaves ; because very men who plead that Christianity -sanctions slavery know that it is a lie, and need no convincing, that if slaves once know the truths of Christianity they will feel that PR makes them free." There is nothing so shocking to contemplate as the so-called re- ligious slave-holder. It is an exhibition so 23 266 THE WORST EVIL OP SLAVERY. dreadful that they who are not indignant at it must soon come to believe Christianity itself is a farce and an instrument of selfish policy. A national system of slavery is a national sys- tem for the inculcation of Atheism; for they who can once come to believe in its propriety, must cease to believe that there exists a God of justice. The greatest curse that can befall an empire is to have a black mass of slavery in it; because that is perfectly inseparable from the destruction of everything that is noble in the public character, every clear re- cognition of human and divine right, every glorious sentiment of sound benevolence onward progress of man and his loftier d iiies. Slavery rots the heart of a nationJM eats out, like a canker, its sentiment of the great, the noble, and the generous ; it setlH on the defence of what it at the same time is conscious is vile and indefensible, and thus stiffens it, as it were, into a doggedness of de- :;: THE WORST EVIL OF SLAVERY. 267 fiant evil, most mischievous to its fame, and most revolting to contemplate. This is the position of things in America at the present moment, and that great republic, the United States, " Did but some power the giftie gie it, To see itself as others see it," would rise in a real phrenzy to get rid of the growing curse of slavery; not because it presses on the slave himself; not because men are brutalized, and women worse than brutalized by it ; not because blood and tears are made to flow, because flesh is torn and the spirit is trodden out of the negro bosom like sparks of fatal fire; but because the com- ission of wrong, the perpetration of cruelty .d crime on the weak and defenceless ; be- cause justice to man and honor to woman, out- 'raged by its maintainance, are acting worse than the possession by seven devils on the national mind; are confounding all princi- spirit sparks missio and ci 268 THE WORST EVIL OF SLAVERY. pies of right and wrong, of justice and magna- nimity in it, and sinking the national character from that glorious eminence which it assumed at the Revolution, to the moral position in which none but its enemies would wish to see it. America must continue to raise a joyous grin on the face of Satan ; must cast a practi- cal sneer on her present fundamental principle that " Every man is born free and equal ; " must stand as the worst of obstacles in the path of Christianity, and the growth of belief in it; and must disappoint every one who finally looked toward her career as to a great and unexampled development of national policy and mind, till she gives freedom black as well as white Americans. Clapton, England. UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. (| APR 7 315 J t PLEA C E DO NOT REMOVE THIS BOOK CARDZi University Research Library