Freedom Township (part 2 of 4)

The christian curiosities of this oldest of in* habited cities, begin with the mosque of peculiar sanctity, once the site of St. John's Cathedral, whose chamber of relics, containing a pretended head of the Baptist, is inaccessible even to Mussulmen, the priesthood excepted. Six huge Corinthian columns, once a part of its proud portico, are built into houses and stores, so that you get but faint glimpses of their beauty and size until you mount the flat mud-roof of the modern buildings and look down into the vast area of the temple, six hundred and fifty-feet by one hundred and fifty; and there find towering above you these massive, blackened remains of christian architecture, - significant emblems of the triumph of the Crescent over the Cross, - and yet by their imperishableness a promise of renewed glory in some brighter future. That Islamism is hastening to decay is shown impressively enough io the grand dervish mosque and khan, once quite celebrated as the Syrian enthronement of this advanced guard of Mohammed ; now nothing could seem more deserted, one minaret is threatening to fall, the spacious garden is all weed-grown, and few are left to mourn over the reverse : these bannermen of the prophet, no longer warriors, students, and apostles, do but beg their bread and drone their prayers, and exchange the reputation of fanatics for that of hypocrites ; they are in fact monks of the mosque, like their brothers in celibacy, changing sadly enough from enthusiasm to formality, from the fervor of first love to the gravelike chillness of an exhausted ritual.

St. Paul is of course the great name at Damascus ; and your dragoman is very certain always as to the place where he was lowered down the citywall ; then he takes you to the tomb of the soldier who befriended him, close at hand, and to the little underground chapel where the Apostle's sight w^as restored. But having passed in turn under the sceptre of Assyrian, Babylonian, Persian, Jew, Roman, Arabian, Turk, every stone of these buildings could tell a most interesting tale, and every timber of the wall could answer with an experience corresponding to the out-door revolution.

^But the grand attractions in this " Flower of the Levant and Florence of Turkey " are the coffeehouses, and the palaces of the rich. The writer of Eothen, I think it is, says, " there is one coffeehouse at Damascus capable of containing a hundred persons :" a Damascus friend, a resident clergyman, carried me into one where he had himself seen, three thousand people on a gala-day, and several where hundreds of visitors would not make a crowd. This great necessity of Turkish life, this deliverance from the loneliness of an oriental home, this luxurious substitute for the daily newspaper, is carried to perfection here. First of all, comes the lofty dome-covered hall, surrounded by couches like beds, enlivened on all festivals by the Arabian Improvisator with his song and his tale ; back of this are a number of rude arbors interlaced with noble shade-trees, and watered profusely by nimble brooks, the whole lighted every night by little pale lamps. These are the gossiping places for the Damascene gentlemen ; where the fragrant tch^bouque, the cool narghilch, or water-pipe, the delicious coffee, the indolent game at dominos, (I never saw chess played at the east,) is relieved by such domestic anecdotes as, according to my American friend, brand the domestic life of the city with beastly sensuality.

One would fain hope that these are the prejudices of an earnest missionary, - but until the residence of years had given familiarity with the language, any opinions of a visitor would be erroneous as well as presuming. Nothing, however, can bring back so powerfully the Arabian tales of enchantment as the interior of the wealthier Damascus houses. The outside is always mean and forbidding. You have sometimes to stoop under the rude, low gate ; and the first court, surrounded only by servants' rooms, has nothing of interest. But the second and third quadrangles become more and more spacious, and are always of variegated marble, containing a perpetually playing fountain, overhung by the orange, the citron, and the vine, whose fragrance floats dreamily on the moist air, lulling the senses to repose. The grand saloon I found to be always arranged pretty much the same. A lower part of the pavement near the door, is the place of deposit for slippers, shoes, and the pattens which Damascus women use so much in the winter, articles all of them never intended for ornament, and never fitted to the foot, but worn as loose as possible, and never within the sitting-room, but simply as a protection from out-door wet and soil. The lower portion of the room and its rug-strewn floor are of variegated marbles, then comes curiously carved woods, then painted stucco, decorated with mirrors rising to the distant gay-colored roof. The immense loftiness, the moist coolness, the gorgeous hues, the emblazoned texts from the Koran, the sweet murmur of the various fountains, the fragrance of the orange groves, succeed to the out-door dreariness like a dream of Haroun Al Raschid to the wearied pilgrim on desert sands. The divan, or wide sofa, on three sides of this haU, is far more agreeable in this enervating climate than any European furniture ; only, in winter, as the ground underneath is permeated by leaky clay tubes bearing the waters of the Barrady, and there is no mother heating apparatus save a brazer of charcoal, one is sometimes very chilly, and is tempted to exchange this tomblike dampness for a cozy corner near some friendly stove or familiar fire-place.

But the general impression which unintelligent strangers carries from Damascus is, that the people have what they want, and have gone wisely to work to realize their idea of earthly blessedness, - an indolent, sensual, dreamy one to you, but in their eyes no faint type of the Mussulman's heaven.

Religious, Moral, And Political Duties

"What is morally wrong, cannot be made practically right. The laws of morality are taught in the Bible. They are unchangeable truths. No sophistry, no expediency, no compromise can set them aside.

If politics is the science of government, and if civil government is a divine institution, intended to protect the rights of all ; if " an injury done to the meanest subject, is an injury done to the whole body;" and if "rulers must be just, ruling in the fear of God," all legislation should be based on moral duty. Any enactments that have not this basis, are, in the Divine sight, null and void. If man is endowed by nature with inalienable rights, no legislation can rightfully wrest them from him. Any attempt to do it, is an infraction of the moral law. Our religious, moral, and political duties are identical and inseparable. It is the vduty of all christian legislators so to act now,, as

Why Slavery Is In The Constitution

That the constitution of a country should guide its action is a truism which none, perhaps, will be inclined to controvert. Indeed, so thoroughly is this sentiment inwrought into us, that we generally expect practice will conform to the constitution. But does not this subject States or nations to misapprehension by others ? South Carolina, for instance, abolishes the writ of habeas corpus with regard to the colored people, and imprisons them, although citizens of the other States, when they enter her borders in any way. Now these are direct violations of the constitution of the United States, so direct, that they cannot be explained away. Nor do we think that South Carolina even attempts it. She openly says, that it is owing to the existence of slavery among them, that the free colored man, coming into contact with the slaves, will taint them with notions of liberty which will make them discontented, - that therefore her own preservation, the first law of nature, requires her to do everything she can to keep the disturbing force out of her limits, even if she have to violate the constitution of the United States. This she asserts, too, when, at the formation of the constitution, she was one of the large slave-holding States, - when she had before her the example of every nation that had practised slavery, and when now her senators and representatives in Congress are sworn to support the constitution of the Union. Thus we see that it would be doing injustice to the constitution, were we to judge of it by the practice of South Carolina.

But the inquirer will not be satisfied with the South Carolina reason. He wants something more and better. He says, too, that these give good occasion to those exercising the powers of the government to confirm all law-abiding citizens in the belief that they are well protected by the constitution, and to let the world see how much the United States prize it. But supposing he were told that those who control the government feel, in this matter, with South Carolina, - that those who had the control of the government had no power to coerce South Carolina to perform her duty, - indeed, in a partizan view, that the person injured were no party, - that, as a general thing, they could not even vote, - were unimportant, nay, insignificant. If those reasons will not satisfy him, he must be content with them, for it is not likely that he will get any other. We further see that injustice would be done by considering the practice of a people as fairly representing their constitution.

A constitution, - the organic law, - in truth, all other law is, in some degree, a restraint on men. It makes an umpire of right, - of reason, - which, if not the same in degree in all of us, is the same in nature. Yet it must be, to some extent, a restraint on the desires or selfish passions of men. In fact, it is only carrying out the rule of doing to others what they should do to us, and tends not only to preserve, but advance society. If no constitution or law agreeing with it existed, men would be left to the sway of their own passions - nearly always selfish - and they being many and very different in different persons, sometimes, indeed, altogether opposite, and of various intensity, - would, by their indulgence, tend to confusion, to the deterioration of society, and to its ultimate dissolution.

Now the people of the United States, without the least hesitation declare, - and they fully believe it - that we are the freest nation on earth. Other nations, doubtless, with equal sincerity say of themselves the same thing. In England where, as in other countries of the old world, there is a crowded population, raising to a high price everything eatable, the operatives^ as they are called, find it difficult to sustain life. They work all the time they can, and, even after doing this, they sometimes perish for want of such food as a human being ought to eat. No one will say that affairs are well ordered here- Having no such state of things ourselves - for except in some of our large cities, no one starves to death - we think that to suff'er one to die in this way is cruel and heartless. And we greatly upbraid them for it.

But here we have slavery, - a vicious usage which European nations, excepting one, have long since laid aside. This they have done not only because it was productive of innumerable visible evils, but because it greatly and injuriously affected the character of all concerned in it, and in this way the character of the whole community, - making one part of it proud and imperious, - another suppliant and servile. They upbraid us with it, as being more inconsistent with the high principles we profess, than any act tolerated among them is or can be with the principles they profess. Then whilst we wonder that with so much wealth as England unquestionably has, she should suffer her operatives to die for something to eat, she wonders that slavery - the worst thing known among men - should be permitted to raise its head, not only as high as the many good and exalted things we possess, but above them, making them, when necessary, give way to it and even contribute to its support. Indeed, it appears to them like Satan appearing in company with the sons of God, to accuse and try one of his children.

But all this is of no avail. It produces no satisfying results, - in fact nothing but mutual illwill and irritation. It is no difficult thing to select from the practices of many people such as are not v/hat they ought to be, - still the theory, the foundation of the government may be opposed to them, but may be unable to put them down. They may exist in spite of it, and in entire opposition to its main object. Indeed, it appears to be much like reasoning in a circle. We come to no end, - no conclusion. To come to any satisfactory end, - any useful conclusion, - we must take something permanent, - something believed by both to be unchangeably right and moral, and compare our governments with it. Whichever comes nearest to the standard agreed on by both, must of course be nearest right. But what shall this be ? Now as it is utterly in vain for one to be happy unless he conform to the laws of his being, so it is in vain that governments are instituted unless they aim to secure the happiness and safety of the governed, - the people. The peculiar benefit or enrichment of those that administer the laws, has nothing to do with good government. Then it ought, by all means, to resemble the Divine government. We do not mean a theocracy as it has been administered, the worst, perhaps, of all governments, - but it should be remarkable for its sacred regard to justice and right. But it is objected, this deals with persons as individuals and not as members of the body politic, and that all Christ's exhortations were of this kind. Well, be it so, - what of it ? There is not the least danger, if one will acquit himself well in his various relations as an individual, - a man, - but what he will make a good citizen.

Taking this as our standard, and recurring for a moment to the assertion of our superior happiness as a people - an assertion sometimes regarded as the boastful grandiloquence of our people - is it not true that our government, our constitution of government we mean, more nearly resembles the Divine government than any other does, and therefore, that those under it are more happy? Some, while they are inclined to admit the fact of our superior happiness, yet seem rather to attribute it to our great abundance of land than to the nature of the government. We do not wish, in any way, to deny or even to neutralize this statement about the abundance of our land, but still it is one of the facts of the government, - the government was made with this in view, - it constitutes a subject for its action, and it makes of it a strong auxiliary. This, though undeniably a great cause, is not, in our judgment, the chief one. It is intellect, - mind united to such feelings and desires that most advance others to be like God in intelligence and worth, - that makes the chief cause. Where this is not, - or is not called forth and put into activity, nothing to purpose can be done. Indeed, it is the most power-- ful agent for good anywhere to be found, - for it is behind all others, and sets all others to work.

We have among us here no form of religion, as they have in other countries, to which one must conform before he can have any share in the government, - no religion that is made part of the government, and which is, therefore, national. Religion - how we shall serve or worship a Being or beings superior to ourselves, and who are thought to influence our destiny forever - is, certainly, the highest concern of man. As no church or nation can answer for him at the judgmentseat, he ought to be left free on this matter. On this point he is free in this country, he is under no necessity to think in a particular channel. In his inquiries after truth, he has nothing to fear from the government about the changes through which his mind may pass, or the conclusions to which it maybe led; although he may draw on him the prejudice and hatred of the sects from whom he feels compelled to differ.* We may truly say, that in this country, however far we may go in imitating foreign forms, we have nothing higher than the preacher of the truth.

We have no monarch born to rule over us, whether we will or not; nor are we obliged to support this costly leech according to his dignity by money wrung from the labor of the country, nor a host of relatives according to their dignity, as connected with the monarch.

Nor have we a class born to be our legislators. We have no legislative castes, nor social castes, but we may truly say, that any native-born citi-

* It is vain to say that rich governments cannot, and do not, offer effective temptations to clever and eloquent men, whose religious views differ from the national form, to induce them to adopt the latter.

Nor have we fought so long - though it must be confessed we are ready pupils here - as most of the countries of the old world have; still we begin to make fighting almost a part of the government, and a part of the religion of the land. But all this does not answer the question that many have asked, and that our intelligence and exemption from bias in many things make more remarkable, - why did we sutler slavery to find a place in a constitution in which there are so many good things, - why did we make a garden of healthful fruits and enchanting flowers, and place this serpent in it ?

The answer to this question may be easily given by one that well knows the condition of the country that soon followed on the treaty of 1783. Till we were governed by the present constitution we were governed by the Articles of Confederation, The United States, though nominally a nation, had no power to enforce any stipulation she might make. For instance, - if she should promise by a treaty to pay interest on the debt that we h^d contracted to secure our national independence, each State by its ovm power and authority were to raise its quota of the whole amount. If a State failed to raise it, the United States had no redress. It had no authority to coerce any State, no matter what was the cause of failure. This is given as only an instance, and did we not think it made our position very plain, others might be given in manifold abundance, - all tending to show the ^unfaithfulness of the States to the engagements of the United States, and the utter powerlessness of the latter to keep her word. It was owing to this that the main object of the Convention was the more perfect union of the States, and that in this way there might be conferred on the United States the same plenary power to carry out her engagements that a State had to carry out hers.

The Convention did not meet to do away with slavery, but chiefly to form such a union as would obviate the difficulty already mentioned, and so keenly felt by some of the most earnest friends of the country. Although slavery was pretty well understood then, and seen to be opposed to all the principles of freedom asserted, yet as it had been embraced by so many, that if they should be united against the constitution its adoption would be endangered, it was thought best not to insist on its instant abolition. Men as yet had too much selfishness in them, and although reasonable beings, they have too much of the animal in them to see that, in the long run, honesty is the best policy. Many of the opponents of slavery, even from the slave States themselves, took this ^opportunity of showing the baseness and turpitude of the whole system, - its advocates from the far South defending it as well as they could. These advocates gave it as their opinion, that owing to the Declaration of 1776, one which had already done wonders at the North, - owing to the infJuence of the principles of liberty inserted into the constitution, and to the feeling of justice pervading all classes of persons, and to the progress of refinement and true civilization, slavery would ultimately disappear.*

* Congress, the legislative department, and, of course, the judicial, its interpreter, were intended to be founded on such undoubted principles of liberty, that it would be difficult for tliem to use their everywhere acknowledged rights, and perform their everywhere expected duties, without first putting aside the strongest impediment to their exercise, slavery. In our judgment this has been done. There is no truth in public law more certain than that protection and allegiance are reciprocal. They must exist together or not at all. The power of the United States Is adequate for the protection of all within her hmits, and from all within them she expects allegiance. If she Is informed in any way to be relied on, that any person is restrained of his rights under the constitution of the United States, it is her duty to see him set at hberty. If he be confined, and see that he is redressed. It is in vain for Congress to excuse itself from acting, by saying that it is a State concern. Can a citizen of the United States^ if he be a citizen, be tortured or tormented by a State^ when there is no pretence that he has violated the law of either ?

The constitution of the United States authorizes no man to hold another as a slave. The United States has no power to hold a slave. It matters not that it was intended to allow some to hold others as their slaves. A very vile person may intend to lock up in prison an innocent and just one, but through mistake he leaves the door unlocked ; does this, in the eyes of any reasonable men, prevent his making his escape through the door ? We are certain not. The only proper Inquiry here is, which is supreme, the government of the Union, or the government of a particular State of it. It is not necessary to answer

At the time this opinion was expressed by the conventionists from the South, although we cultivated cotton to a small extent, it could not be regarded as a staple. Soon after making the constitution, it began to be important. It could be produced only at the South. As it grew in value, the notion of abolishing slavery began to wane, till now some of the leading men of that part of the country say it is not only a good thing, but an indispensable one to the highest perfection of the social system.

this. If tlie first deal with no one as a slave, the subordinate cannot by law. Persons may be held as slaves by fraud, by cunning, by taking advantage of the ignorance in which we hold them, by force, or a successful combination of force, but not by LAW.

I. The Altar Of Liberty, Or 1776

The well-sweep of the old house on the hill was relieved, dark and clear, against the reddening sky, as the early winter sun was going down in the west. It was a brisk, clear, metallic evening; the long drifts of snow blushed crimson red on iheir tops, and lay in shades of purple and lilac in the hollows ; and the old wintry wind brushed shrewdly along the plain, tingling people's noses, blowing open their cloaks, puffing in the back of their necks, and showing other unmistakable indications that he was getting up steam for a real roystering night.

company with his little sister Grace, to pick up chips, which, every-body knows, was in the olden time considered a wholesome and gracious employment, and the peculiar duty of the rising generation. But said Dick, being a boy, had mounted the wood-pile, and erected there a flag-stafi', on which he was busily tying a little red pockethandkerchief, occasionally exhorting Gracie " to be sure and pick up fast." '' O, yes, I will," said Grace ; " but you see the chips have got ice on 'em, and make my hands so cold ! "

So Grace picked away as fast as she could, nothing doubting but that her cold Ihumbs were in some mysterious sense an offering on the shrine of Liberty ; while soon the red handkerchief, duly secured, fluttered and snapped in the brisk evening wind.

" O, never fear ; give it to me, and just holler now, Gracie, ' Hurra for Liberty ;' and we '11 throw up your bonnet and my cap ; and we '11 play, you know, that we were a whole army, and I 'm General Washington.

swung his cap, and up they both went into the air; and the children shouted, and the flag snapped and fluttered, and altogether they had a merry time of it. But then the wind - good-for-nothing, roguish fellow ! - made an ungenerous plunge at poor Grade's little hood, and snipped it up in a twinkling, and whisked it ofl', ofl', off", - fluttering and bobbing up and down, quite across a wide, waste, snowy field, and finally lodged it on the top of a tall strutting raiJ, that was leaning very independently, quite another way from all the other rails of the fence.

" Well, don't cry, Gracie, you foolish girl ! Do you think I can't get it ? Now, only play that that great rail was a fort, and your bonnet was a prisoner in it, and see how quick 1 '11 take the fort, and get it!" and Dick shouldered a stick, and started off'.

" What upon 'arth keeps those children so long ? I should think they were making chips I" said Aunt Mehetabel; "the fire's just a-going out under the tea-kettle."

ket to the door, and was stamping the snow off her little feet, which were so numb that she needed to stamp, to be quite sure they were yet there. Aunt Mehetabel's shrewd face was the first that greeted her, as the door opened.

" Gracie - what upon 'airth ! - wipe your nose, child ; your hands are frozen. Where alive is Dick, and what 's kept you out all this time, - and where 's your bonnet ? "

Poor Gracie, stunned by this cataract of questions, neither wiped her nose nor gave any answer ; but sidlqd up into the warm corner, where grandmamma was knitting, and began quietly rubbing and blowing her fingers, while the tears silently rolled down her cheeks, as the fire made their former ache intolerable.

"Poor little dear I" said grandmamma, taking her hands in hers; " Hitty shan't scold you. Grandma knows you've been a good girl, - the wind blew poor Grade's bonnet away ; " and grandmamma wiped both eyes and nose, and gave her, moreover, a stalk of dried fennel out of her pocket, whereat Gracie took heart once more.

" Mother always makes fools of Roxy's children," said Mehetabel, puffing zealously under the tea-kettle. " There 's a little maple sugar in that saucer up there, mother, if you will keep giving it to her," she said, still vigorously puiHng. " And now, Gracie," she said, when, after a while, the fire seemed in tolerable order, " will you answer my question ? - Where is Dick ? "

" Why, he put up a flag-staff on the wood-pile, and a flag to Liberty, you know, that papa's fighting for," said Grace, more confidently, as she saw her quiet, blue-eyed mother, who had silently walked into the room during the conversation.

" Why, he wanted me to throw up my bonnet and he his cap, and shout for Liberty ; and then the wind took it and carried it off, and he said I ought not to be sorry if I did lose it, - it was an offering to Liberty."

" And so I did," said Dick, who was standing as straight as a poplar behind the group ; " and I heard it in one of father's letters to mother, -that we ought to offer up everything on the altar of Liberty ! And so I made an altar of the wood-pile."

" Good boy ! " said his mother, " always remember everything your father writes. He has offered up everything on the altar of Liberty, true enough ; and I hope you, son, will live to do the same."

" O! well, Aunt Hitty, I've got the hood, - let me alone for that. It blew clear over into the Daddy Ward pasture-lot, and. there stuck on the top of the great rail ; and I played that the rail was a fort, and besieged it, and took it."

" O ! yes, you 're always up to taking forts, and anything else that nobody wants done. I '11 warrant, now, you left Gracie to pick up every blessed one of them chips ! "

" If I a'nt a man, I soon shall be ; my head is 'most up to my mother's shoulder, and I can fire off a gun too. I tried, the other day, when I was up to the store. Mother, I wish you'd let me clean and load the old gun ; so that, if the British should come ! "

Dick sprung, and had the table out in a trice, with an abundant clatter, and put up the leaves with quite an air. His mother, with the silent and gliding motion characteristic of her, quietly took out the table-cloth and spread it, and began to set the cups and saucers in order, and to put on the plates and knives, while Aunt Hitty bustled about the tea.

" Because there was an unlawful tax laid upon it, that the government had no right to lay. It wasn't much in itself; but it was a part of a whole system of oppressive meanness, designed to take away our rights, and make us slaves of a foreign power!"

" But they would not be slaves I They saw clearly where it would all end, and they would not begin to submit to it in ever so little," said the mother.

" Besides," said his mother, drawing him towards her, '^ it was n't for themselves alone they did it. This is a great country, and it will be greater and greater: and it's very important that it should have free and equal laws, because it will by and by be so great. This country, if it is a free one, will be a light of the world, - a city set on a hill,.

that cannot be hid ; and all the oppressed and distressed from other countries shall come here to enjoy equal rights and freedom. This, dear boy, is why your father and uncles have gone to fight, and why they do stay and fight, though God knows what they suffer, and - " and the large blue eyes of the mother were full of tears ; yet a strong, bright beam of pride and exultation shone through those tears.

" Well, well, Roxy, you can always talk, everybody knows," said Aunt Hitty, who had been not the least attentive listener of this little patriotic harangue ; " but, you see, the tea is getting cold, and yonder I see the sleigh is at the door, and John 's come, - so let 's set up our chairs for supper."

The chairs were soon set up, when John, the eldest son, a lad of about fifteen, entered with a letter. There was one general exclamation, and stretching out of hands towards it. John threw it into his mother's lap ; - the tea-table was forgotten, and the tea-kettle sang unnoticed by the fire, as all hands piled themselves up by mother's chair to hear the news. It was from Captain Ward, then in the American army, at Valley Forge. Mrs. Ward ran it over hastily, and then read it aloud. A few words we may extract : ^' There is still," it said, "much suffering. I have given away every pair of stockings you sent me, reserving to myself only one ; for I will not be one whit better off than the poorest soldier that fights for his country. Poor fellows I it makes my heart ache sometimes to go round among them, and see them with their worn clothes and torn shoes, and often bleeding feet, yet cheerful and hopeful, and every one willing to do his very best. Often the spirit of discouragement comes over them, jmrticularly at night, when, weary, cold, and hungry, they turn into their comfortless huts, on the snowy ground. Then sometimes there is a thought of home, and warm fires, and some speak of giving up ; but next morning out comes Washington's general orders, - little short note, but it 's wonderful the good it does ! and then they all resolve to hold on, come what may. There are commissioners going all through the country to pick up sup^ plies. If they come to you, I need not tell you what to do. I know all that will be in your hearts."

" Ephraim Scranton told me that the commissioners had come as far as the Three-mile Tavern, and that he rather 'spected they 'd be along here to-night," said John, as he was helping round the baked beans to the silent company at the tea-table."

" There 's the south room, said Aunt Hitty, musing; "that bed has the two old Aunt Ward blankets on it, and the gi*eat blue quilt, and two comforters. Then mother's and my room, two pair - four comforters - two quilts - the best chamber has got "

"O! Aunt Hitty, send all that's in the best chamber. If any company comes, we can make it up off from our beds ! " said John. " I can send a blanket or two off from my bed, I know ; - can't but just turn over in it, so many clothes on, now."

Up rose grandmamma, with great earnestness, now, and going into the next room, and opening a large cedar- wood chest, returned, bearing in her arms two large snow-white blankets, which she deposited flat on the table, just as Aunt Hitty was whisking off the table-cloth.

" There," she said, " I spun those, every thread -'Of 'em, when my name was Mary Evans. Those were my wedding blankets, made of real nice wool, and worked with roses in all the corners.

I 've got them to give ! " and grandmamma stroked and smoothed the blankets, and patted them down, with great pride and tenderness. It was evident she was giving something that lay very near her heart ; but she never faltered.

" La ! mother, there 's no need of that," said Aunt Hitty. " Use them on your own bed, and send the blankets off from that ; - they are just as good for the soldiers."

" No, I shan't ! " said the old lady, waxing warm ; " 't an't a bit too good for 'em. I '11 send the very best I 've got, before they shall suffer. Send 'em the best ! " and the old lady gestured oratorically !

They were interrupted by a rap at the door, and two men entered, and announced themselves as commissioned by Congress to search out supplies for the army. Now the plot thickens. Aunt Hitty jflew in every direction, - through entrypassage, meal-room, milk-room, down cellar, up chamber, - her cap-border on end with patriotic zeal ; and followed by John, Dick, and Gracie, who eagerly bore to the kitchen the supplies that she turned out, while Mrs. Ward busied herself in quietly sorting, bundling, and arranging in the best possible travelling order, the various contributions that were precipitately launched on the kitchen floor.

" Here," she said to the man who was packing the things into a wide-mouthed sack ; " here 's mine," and her large blue eyes looked earnestly through her tears.

Gracie looked around with an air of utter desolation, and began to cry. " I wanted to give them something," said she. " I'd rather go barefoot on rthe snow all day, than not send 'em anything."

soldier, tenderly. " There, I '11 take 'em, and show 'em to the soldiers, and tell them what the little girl said that sent them. And it will do them as much good as if they could wear them. They 've got little girls at home, too." Gracie fell on her mother's bosom completely happy, and Aunt Hitty only muttered,

Soon the old sleigh drove off from the brown house, tightly packed and heavily loaded. And Gracie and Dicky were creeping up to their little beds.

As we push gently aside the open door, we gain sight of a small room, clean as busy hands can make it, where a neat, cheerful young mulatto woman is busy at an ironing-table. A basket full of glossy-bosomed shirts, and faultless collars and wristbands, is beside her, into which she is placing the last few items with evident pride and satisfaction. A bright, black-eyed boy, just come in from school, with his satchel of books over his shoulder, stands, cap in hand, relating to his mother how he has been at the head of his class, and showing his school-tickets, which his mother, with untiring admiration, deposits in the little real china teapot, - which, as being their most reliable article of gentility, is made the deposit of all the money and most especial valuables of the family.

" Now, Henry," says the mother, "look out and see if father is coming along the street;" and she begins filling the little black tea-kettle, which is soon set singing on the stove.

From the inner room now daughter Mary, a well-grown girl of thirteen, brings the baby, just roused from a nap, and very impatient to renew his acquaintance with his mamma.

" Bless his bright eyes ! - mother will take him," ejaculates the busy little woman, whose hands are by this time in a very floury condition, in the incipient stages of wetting up biscuit, - "in a minute ; " and she quickly frees herself from the flour and paste, and, deputing Mary to roll out her biscuit, proceeds to the consolation and succor of young master.

"Now, Henry," says the mother, "you'll have time, before supper, to take that basket of clothes up to Mr. Sheldin's ; - put in that nice bill, that you made out last night. I shall give you a cent for every bill you v^a'ite out for me. What a comfort it is, now, for one's children to be gettin' learnin' so ! "

" O, you 've come, father, have you ? - Mary, are the biscuits in ? - you may as well set the table, now. Well, George, what 's the news ? "

" Nothing, only a pretty smart day's work. I've brought home five dollars, and shall have as much as I can do, these two weeks;" and the man, having washed his hands, proceeded to count out his change on the ironing-table.

'' Tell ye what," said the little woman, taking down the family strong -box, - to wit, the china tea-pot, aforenamed, - and pouring the contents on the table, " we 're getting mighty rich, now ! We can afford to get Henry his new Sunday-cap, and Mary her muslin-de-laine dress ; - take care, baby, you rogue ! '' she hastily interposed, as young master made a dive at a dollar bill, for his share in the proceeds.

The baby gazed, with round, astonished eyes, while mother, with some difficulty, rescued the bill from his grasp ; but, before any one could at all anticipate his purpose, he dashed in among the small change with such zeal as to send it flying all over the table.

" Hurra ! - Bob 's a smasher ! " said the father, delighted ; " he '11 make it fly, he thinks ; " and, taking the baby on his knee, he laughed merrily, as Mary and her mother pursued the rolling coin all over the room.

" He knows now, as well as can be, that he 's been doing mischief," said the delighted mother, as the baby kicked and crowed uproariously ; - '^ he's such a forward child, now, to be only six months old! - O, you've no idea, father, how mischievous he grows," and therewith the little woman began to roll and tumble the little mischief-

" Come, come, Mary," said the mother, at last, with a sudden burst of recollection ; " you must n't be always on your knees fooling with this child ! - Look in the oven at them biscuits.''

''They 're done exactly, mother, - just the brown ! " - and, with the word, the mother dumped baby on to his father's knee, where he sat contentedly munching a very ancient crust of bread, occasionally improving the flavor thereof by rubbing it on his father's coat-sleeve.

" Well, now, what cfo you suppose ?" said the little woman, delighted ; - "a quart of nice oysters, - just for a treat, you know. I would n't tell you till this minute," said she, raising the cover.

" Well," said George, " we both work hard for our money, and we don't owe anybody a cent; and why shouldn't we have our treats, now and then, as well as rich folks ? "

"I'll tell you," said George, wiping his mouth, " wife, these times are quite another thing from what it used to be down in Georgia. I remember then old Mas'r used to hire me out by the year; and one time, I remember, I came and paid him in two hundred dollars, - every cent I'd taken. He just looked it over, counted it, and put it in his pocket-book, and said, ^ You are a good boy, George,' - and he gave me half-a'dollar ! "

" Well, well, the Lord be praised, they 're over, and you are in a free country now ! " said the wife, as she rose thoughtfully from the table, and brought her husband the great Bible. The little circle were ranged around the stove for evening prayers.

The boy, with a cheerful readine>s, read, " The Lord is my shepherd," and the mother gently stilled the noisy baby, to listen to the holy words. Then all kneeled, while the father, with simple earnestness, poured out his soul to God.

They had but just risen, - the words of Christian hope and trust scarce died on their lips, - when lo! the door was burst open, and two men entered ; and one of them advancing, laid his hand oil the father's shoulder. " This is the fellow," said he.

Autographs For Freedom, 145

Shall we describe the leave-taking? - the sorrowing wife, the dismayed children, the tears, the anguish, - that simple, honest, kindly home, in a moment so desolated! Ah, ye who defend this because it is law, think, for one hour, what if this that happens to your poor brother should happen to you!" *****

Lawyers hurried to and fro, buzzing, consulting, bringing authorities, - all anxious, zealous, engaged, - for what ? - to save a fellow-man from bondage ? - no ; anxious and zealous lest he might escape, - full of zeal to deliver him over to slavery. The poor man's anxious eyes follow vainly the busy course of affairs, from which he dimly learns that he is to be sacrificed - on the altar of the Union ; and that his heart-break and anguish, and the tears of his wife, and the desolation of his children, are, in the eyes of these well-informed men, only the bleat of a sacrifice, bound to the horns of the glorious American altar! * * * * learned and patriotic, are out, this day, to give their countenance to an edifying and impressive, and truly American spectacle, - the sale of a man ! All the preliminaries of the scene are there ; duskybrowed mothers, looking with sad eyes while speculators are turning round their children, - looking at their teeth, and feeling of their arms ; a poor, old, trembling woman, helpless, half-blind, whose last child is to be sold, holds on to her bright boy with trembling hands. Husbands and wives, sisters and friends, all soon to be scattered like the chaff of the threshing-floor, look sadly on each other with poor nature's last tears; and among them walk briskly glib, oily politicians, and thriving men of law, letters, and religion, exceedingly sprightly and in good spirits, - for why? - it is n't they that are going to be sold ; it 's only somebody else. And so they are very comfortable, and look on the whole thing as quite a matter-ofcourse affair ; and, as it is to be conducted to-day, a decidedly valuable and judicious exhibition.

And now, after so many hearts and souls have been knocked and thumped this way and that way by the auctioneer's hammer, comes the instructive part of the whole ; and the husband and father, whom we saw in his simple home, reading and praying with his children, and rejoicing, in the joy of his poor ignorant heart, that he lived in a free country, is now set up to be admonished of his mistake.

Autographs For Freedom, 147

" I don't generally take much interest in scenes of this nature," says a grave representative; - "but I came here to-day for the sake of the principle I "

" Gentlemen," says the auctioneer, "we've got a specimen here that some of your Northern abolitionists would give any price for ; but they shan't have him ! - no I we 've looked out for that. The man that buys him must give bonds never to sell him to go North again I "

" Go it ! " shout the crowd, " good ! - good ! - hurra ! " " An impressive idea ! " says a senator ; " a noble maintaining of principle ! " and the man is bid off, and the hammer falls with a last crash on his hearth, and hopes, and manhood, and he lies a bleeding wreck on the altar of Liberty !

Outline Of A Man

In some of those castle-building day-dreams, in which, like all youth of an imaginative turn, I was wont, in my early days, to indulge, a favorite image of my creation was an Africo- American for the time^ - a colored man, who had known by experience the bitterness of slavery, and now by some process free, so endowed with natural powers, and a certain degree of attainments, all the more rare and effective for being acquired under great disadvantages, - as to be a sort of Moses to his oppressed and degraded tribe. He was to be gifted with a noble person, of course, and refinement of manners, and some elegance of thought and expression ; by what unprecedented miracle such a paragon was to be graduated through the educational appliances of American slavery, imagination did not trouble lierself to inquire. She was painting fancy-pieces, not portraits.

Having thus irresponsibly struck out upon the canvas her central figure, she would not be slow to complete the picture with many a rose-colored vision of brilliant successes and magic triumphs won by her hero, in his great enterprise of the redemption of his people. A burning sense of their wrongs fired his eloquence with an undying, passionate earnestness, and as he alternately reproached the injustice, and appealed to the generosity of his oppressors, all opposition gave way before him ; the masses, as one man, demanded the emancipation of his long-degraded, deeply injured race; and millions of regenerated men rose up, upon their broken chains and called him blessed.

Years rolled away, and these poetic fancies faded " into the light of common day." The cold, stern, pitiless reality remained. The dark incubus of slavery yet rested down upon more than three millions of the victims of democratic despotism. But the triumphant champion of the devoted race had melted aw^ay, with the morning mists of my boyish conjuring.

One morning in the summer of 1844, walking up Main-street in the city of Hartford, I was attracted by the movements of a group of some Iwenty-five or thirty men and women, in a small recess, or court, by the side of the old Centre Church. They appeared to be organized into an assembly, and a tall mulatto was addressing them. I drew near to listen. The speaker was recounting the oft-enacted history of a flight from slavery. With his eye upon the cold, but true north star, and his ear ever and anon bent to the ground, listening for the " blood-hound's savage bay," sure-footed and panting, the fugitive was before me ! My attention had been arrested; I was profoundly interested. The audience was the American Anti-slavery Society, then just excluded from some of the public halls of the city, and fain to content themselves, after an apostolic sort, with the next best accommodations. The orator was Frederick Douglass, the most remarkable man of this country, and of this age; and - may I not dare to add - the almost complete fulfilment of my early dream !

Since that day, through assiduous application, and a varied experience, he has continued to develop in the same wonderful ratio of improvement, which even then distinguished him as a prodigy in self-education. Unusually favored in personal appearance and address, full of generous impulse and delicate sensibility, exuberant in playful wit, or biting sarcasm, or stern denunciation, ever commanding in his moral attitude, earnest and impressive in manner, with a voice eminently sonorous and flexible, and gesture full of dramatic vivacity, I have many times seen large audiences swayed at his will ; at one moment convulsed with laughter, and at the next, bathed in tears ; now lured with admiration of the orator, and now with indignation at the oppressor, against whom he hurled his invective. But in my boyhood's quasiprophetic fancy of such a man and his inimitable success, I had not counted upon one antagonist, whose reality and potency, the observation of every day now forces painfully upon me. I mean the strange and unn^inrdl prejudice against mere color ^ which is so all-prevalent in the American breast, as almost to nullify the influence of such a man, so pleading ; while his dignity, his urbanity, his imperturbable serenity and good nature, his genuine purity and worth all fail, at times, to secure him from the grossest indignities, at the hands of the coarse and brutal. Nobody who know^s him will be inclined to question our estimate of his character, but it still comports with the intelligence and refinement and piety of a large proportion of American society to label him " nigger," and the name itself invites to safe contumely, and irresponsible violence.

I have spoken of Frederick Douglass as an interesting man - a wonderful man. Look at him as he stands to-day before this nation ; and then contemplate his history.

Begin with him when, a little slave-child, he lay down on his rude pallet, and that slave-mother, from a plantation twelve miles away, availed herself of the privilege granted grudgingly, of travelling the whole distance, after the day's work, (on peril of the lash, unless back again by sunrise to her task,) that she might lie there by his side, and sing him with her low sweet song to sleep. " I do not recollect," says he, " of ever seeing my mother by the light of day. She was with me in the night. She would lie down with me, and get me to sleep, but long before I awaked, she was gone." How touching the love of that dark -browed bondwoman for her boy ! How precious must the memory of that dim but sweet remembrance be to him, who though once a vassal, bound and scourged, and still a Helot, proscribed and wronged, may not be robbed of this dear token that he, too, had once a mother ! Her low sad lullaby yet warps his life's dark woof - for she watches over his pathway now with spirit-eyes, and still keeps singing on in his heart, and nursing his courage and his patience.

Follow him through all the tempestuous experience of his bondage. His lashings, his longings, his perseverance in possessing himself of the key of knowledge, which, after all, only unlocked to him the fatal secret that he was a slave, a thing to be bought and sold like oxen. Imagine the tumult of his soul, as standing by the broad Chesapeake, he watched the receding vessels, " while they flew on their white wings before the breeze, and apostrophized them as animated by the living spirit of freedom ; "* or when reading in a stray copy of the

* '* Our house stood within a few rods of the Chesapeake bay, whose broad bosom was ever white with sails from every quarter of the habitable globe. Those beautiful vessels, robed in purest white, so delightful to the eye of freemen, were to me so many shrouded ghosts to terrify and torment me with thoughts of my wretched condition. I have often, in the deep stillness of a summer's Sabbath, stood all alone upon the lofty banks of that noble bay, and traced, with saddened heart and tearful eye, the countless number of sails moving off to the mighty old " Columbian Orator," (verily, all our schoolbooks must be expurgated of the incendiary ' perilous stuff' in which they abound,) the "Dialogue between a Master and his Slave," and Sheridan's great speech on Catholic Emancipation.* See to ocean. The sight of these always affected me powerfully. My thoughts would compel utterance ; and then, with no audience but the Almighty, I would pour out my soul's complaint, in my rude way, with an apostrophe to the moving multitude of ships : -

" You are loosed from your moorings, and are free ; I am fast in my chains, and am a slave ! You move merrily before the gentle gale, and I sadly before the bloody whip ! You are freedom's swift- winged angels that fly around the world ; I am confined in bands of iron ! O that I were free ! O that I were on one of your gallant decks, and under your protecting wing ! Alas ! betwixt me and you the turbid waters roll. Go on, go on. O that I could also go ! Could I but swim ! If I could fly ! O, why was I born a man, of whom to make a brute 1 The glad ship is gone ; she hides in the dim distance. I am left in the hottest hell of unending slavery. O God, save me ! God, deliver me ! Let me be free ! Is there any God ? Why am I a slave ? I will run away. * * * Only think of it ; one hundred miles straight north, and I am free ! Try it ? Yes ! God helping me, I will. It cannot be that I shall live and die a slave. * * *" - Autobiography of Douglass ^ pp. 64, 65.

* " There was no getting rid of it [the thought of his condition]. It was pressed upon me by every object within sight or hearing, animate or inanimate. The silver trump of freedom had roused my soul to eternal wakefulness. Freedom now appeared, to disappear no more forever. It was heard in every sound, and seen in everything. It was ever present to torment me with a sense of my wretched condition. I saw nothing without seeing it, I heard nothing without hearing it, and felt nothing without feeling it. It looked from every star ; It smiled what heroic resistance his proud heart had swollen, when he turned outright upon his tormentor - pious Mr. Corey, the "nigger-breaker'' - and inflicted condign retribution on his heartless ribs ; " after which," says he, significantly, " I was never whipped again ; I had several fights^ but was never whipped." Attend him in his exodus from our republican Egypt. Witness his struggles with poverty ; his vain attempts to find employment at his trade, as a colored man, in the free North. Behold him at last emerging from his obscurity at the Anti-slavery Convention in Nantucket. Somebody, who is aware of his extraordinary natural intelligence, invites him to speak. Tremblingly he consents. '' As soon as he had taken his seat," said Mr. Garrison, after describing the tremendous effect of his remarks upon the audience, " filled with hope and admiration, I rose and declared that Patrick Henry, of revolutionary fame, never made a speech more eloquent in the cause of liberty, than the one we had just listened to from the hunted fugitive."

That was just eleve7i years ago, - and what is Frederick Douglass now ? I would fain avoid the language of exaggeration. It is ever a cruel kindness which over-praises, exciting expectations, which cannot but be disappointed. But when, in view of the fact that the subject of this sketch was but thirteen years ago a slave, in all the darkness and disability of Southern bondage, I affirm that his present character, attainments, and position constitute a phenomenon hitherto perhaps unprecedented in the history of intellectual and moral achievement, none who know and are competent to weigh the facts, will account the terms extravagant. It is not to be expected but that his mental condition should betray his early disadvantages. His information, though amazing, under the circumstances, Avill not of course bear comparison, in fulness and accuracy, with that of men who have been accumulating their resources from childhood. In his writings, the deficiency of early discipline is most manifest, rendering them diffuse and unequal, though always interesting, and often exceedingly effective. He is properly an orator. His addresses, like those of Whitfield, and many other popular speakers, lose a large proportion of their effect in reading. They require the living voice, and the magnetic presence of the orator. But even in this respect, Douglass is not uniform in his performance, but is quite dependent on his surrounding's, and the inspiration of the moment. But when, all these consenting, he becomes thoroughly possessed of his theme, and his tall form - six feet high and straight as an arrow, - his bearing dignified and graceful, - self-possessed, yet modest, - his countenance flexible, and wonderful in power of expression, and his voice, with its rich and varied modulation, are all summoned to the work of enchantment, many a rapt

And, after all, the moral features of this interesting character constitute its principal charm. The integrity and manliness of Frederick Douglass, potent and acknowledged where he is at all known, have much to do with his influence as a popular orator. It has been customary, with a certain class of Shibboleth-pronouncers to class him with infidels, but this is only the appropriate and characteristic retort of a certain sort of ^' highly respectable " Christianity to his uncompromising denunciations of its hollow and selfish character. / think Frederick Douglass is a Christian ; he is a gentleman, I know. There are few white men of my acquaintance, who could have borne so much adulation, without losing the balance of their self-appreciation. Nobody ever knew Frederick Douglass to over-rate himself, or to thrust himself anywhere where he did not belong, or upon anybody who might by any possibility object to his companionship, - unless, in the latter case, when he deemed necessary the assertion of a simple right. Whence he got his retiring and graceful modesty, and his nice sense of the minute proprieties, - unless it be somehow in his bloody - is a mystery to me. Can it be possible that such refinements are scourged into men ''down South ?'^ An illustration of this may be seen in his response to those gentlemen of Rochester, who, by

" Gentlemen : - I have learned with some surprise, that in the Whig Convention held in this city on Saturday last, you signified, by your votes, a desire to make me your representative in the Legislature of this State. Never having, at any time that I recollect, thought, spoken, or acted, in any way, to commit myself to either the principles or the policy of the Whig party ; but on the contrary, having always held, and publicly expressed opinions diametrically opposed to those held by that part of the Whig party which you are supposed to represent, your voting for me, I am bound in courtesy to suppose, is founded in a misapprehension of my political sentiments.

" Lest you should, at any other time, commit a similar blunder, I beg to state, once for all, that I do* not believe that the slavery question is settled. and settled forever. I do not believe that slavecatching is either a christian duty, or an innocent amusement. I do not believe that he who breaks the arm of the kidnapper, or \\T:ests the trembling captive from his grasp is ' a traitor.' I do not believe that Daniel Webster is the saviour of the Union, nor that the Union stands in need of such a saviour. I do not believe that human enactments are to be obeyed when they are point-blank against the law of the living God. And believing most fully, as I do, the reverse of all this, you will easily believe me to be a person wholly unfit to receive the suffrages of gentlemen holding the opinion and favoring the policy of that wing of the Whig party denominated ' the Silver Grays,^ " With all the respect which your derision permits me to entertain for you, I am, gentlemen,

The perpetrators of the wanton and gratuitous insult which elicited this beautiful rebuke, would be sadly outraged, were we to insist on withholding the title of " Gentlemen " from those who could, on any pretence, trample on the feelings of such as they esteem their inferiors. If they half begin to comprehend the meaning of the term, much more to feel its power, their cheeks must have crimsoned with shame, when they saw their own unprovoked assault, contrasted with the calm and self-respectful serenity of this reply.

Another instance of this dignity under circumstances of peculiar trial, may be found in his own account - in the columns of " Frederick Douglass' paper " - of a rencontre with a hotel clerk in Cleveland. It is as follows :

" At the ringing of the morning bell for breakfast, I made my way to the table, supposing myself included in the call ; but I was scarcely seated, when there stepped up to me a young man, appa- rently much agitated, saying : " Sir, you must leave this table." '' And why," said I, " must I leave this table ? " "I want no controversy with you. You must leave this table." I replied, " that I had regularly enrolled myself as a boarder in that house ; I expected to pay the same charges imposed upon others ; and I came to the table in obedience to the call of the bell ; and if I left the table I must know the reason." " We will serve you in your room. It is against our rules." " You should have informed me of your rules earlier. Where are your rules ? Let me see them." " I don't want any altercation with you. You must leave this table." " But have I not deported myself as a gentleman ? What have I done ? Is there any gentleman who objects to my being seated here?" (There was silence round the table.) " Come, sir, come, sir, you must leave this table at once." " Well, sir, I cannot leave it unless you will give me a better reason than you have done for my removal." " Well, I '11 give you a reason if you '11 leave the table and go to another room." " That, sir, I will not do. You have invidiously selected me out of all this company, to be dragged from this table, and have thereby reflected upon me as a man and a gentleman ; and the reason for this treatment shall be as public as the insult you have offered." At these remarks, my carrot-headed assailant left me, as he said, to get help to remove me from the table. Meanwhile I called upon one of the servants (who appeared to wait upon me with alacrity) to help me to a cup of coffee, and assisting myself to some of the good things before me, I quietly and thankfully parcook of my morning meal without further annoyance."

Whatever may have been the duty of Mr. Douglass, (and none who know him can for a moment doubt what his inclination would have been,) in case the proscriptive "rules of the house" had been previously made known to him, the justice, as well as the gentlemanly self-possession of his bearing, in relation to this public outrage, must, I think, be sufficiently obvious.

The Heroic Slave-Woman

It was my privilege to see much of Edward S. Abdy, Esq., of England, during his visit to our country, in 1833 and 1834. The first time I met him was at the house of Mr. James Forten, of Philadelphia, in company with two other English gentlemen, who had come to the United States, commissioned by the British Parliament to examine our systems of prison and penitentiary discipline. Mr. Abdy was interested in whatsoever affected the welfare of man. But he was more particularly devoted to the investigation of slavery. He travelled extensively in our Southern States, and contemplated with his own eyes the manifold abominations of our American despotism. He was too much exasperated by our tyranny to be enamoured of our democratic institutions ; and on his return to England, he published two very sensible volumes, that were so little complimentary to our nation, that our booksellers thought it not worth their while to republish them.

several times at my home in Connecticut. The last afternoon that he was there, we were sitting together at my study window, when our attention was arrested by a very handsome carriage driving up to the hotel opposite my house. A gentleman and lady occupied the back seat ; and on the front were two children tended by a black woman, who wore the turban, that was then more than now, usually worn by slave women.

We hastened over to the hotel, and soon entered into conversation with the slave-holder. He was polite, but somewhat nonchalant, and defiant of our sympathy with his victim. He readily acknowledged, as slaveholders of that day generally did, that, abstractly considered, the enslavement of fellow men was a great wrong ; but then he contended that it had become a necessary evil, neces-* sary to the enslaved, no less than to the enslavers ; the former being unable to do without masters, as much as the latter were to do without servants. And he added, in a very confident tone, " you are at liberty to persuade our servant-woman to remain here, if you can."

Thus challenged, we of course sought an interview with the slave ; and informed her that having been brought by her master into the free States, she was, by the laws of the land, set at liberty. " No, I am not, gentlemen," was her prompt reply. We adduced cases, and quoted authorities to establish our assertion that she was free. But she significantly shook her head, and still insisted that the examples and the legal decisions did not reach her case. " For," said she, " I promised mistress that I would go back with her and the children." Mr. Abdy undertook to argue with her that such a promise was not binding. He had been drilled in the moral philosophy of Dr. Paley, and in that debate seemed to be possessed of its spirit. But he failed to make any visible impression upon the woman. She had bound herself by a promise to her mistress, that she would not leave her ; and that promise had fastened upon her conscience an obligation, from which she could not be persuaded, that even her natural right to liberty could exonerate her. Mr. Abdy at last was impatient with her, and said, in his haste, " is it possible that you do not wish to be free ? " She replied with solemn earnestness, " was there ever a slave that did not wish to be free ? I long for liberty. I will get out of slavery, if I can, the day after I have returned, but go back I must, because I promised that I would." At this, we desisted from our endeavor to induce her to take the boon that was, apparently to us, within her reach. We could not but feel a profound respect for that moral sensibility which would not allow her to embrace even her freedom, at the expense of violating a promise.

The next morning, at an early hour, the slaveholder with his wife and children drove off, leaving the slave-woman and their heaviest trunk to be brought on after them in the stage-coach. We could not refrain from again trying to persuade her to remam and be free. We told her that her master had given us leave to persuade her if we could. She pointed to the trunk^ and to a very valuable gold watch and chain, which her mistress had committed to her care, and insisted that fidelity to a trust was of more consequence to her soul even than the attainment of liberty. Mr. Abdy offered to take the trunk and watch into his charge, follow her master, and deliver them into his hands. But she could not be made to see that in this there would be no violation of her duty. And then her own person, that, too, she had promised should be returned to the home of her master ; and much as she longed for liberty, she longed for a clear conscience more.

Mr. Abdy was astonished, delighted at this instance of heroice virtue in a poor, ignorant slave. He packed his trunk, gave me a hearty adieu, and, when the coach drove up, he took his seat on the outside with the trunk and the slave - chattels of a Mississippi slave-holder - that he might study for a few hours more the morality of that stronghearted woman, who could not be bribed to violate her promise, even by the gift of liberty.

It was the last time I saw Mr. Abdy, - and it was a sight to be remembered, - he an accomplished English gentleman, a Fellow of Oxford or Cambridge University, riding on the driver's box of a stage-coach, side by side with an American slave-woman, that he might learn more of her history and character.

You ask me what I think of Kossuth. The history of Kossuth is but partly told. An opinion of him now, is, of course, founded on the past and present. But so decisive have been the manifestations in regard to his abilities and aims, that we may confidently say he is the great man of the age. I don't mean that there is no other man who is responsible for as great or greater physical and intellectual endowments and education. We measure men by what they do^ not by what they are able to do. He is great, because he has manifested great thoughts and corresponding deeds. In this regard he has no superior.

When I speak of Kossuth as greats I mean that the divine elements of power, wisdom, and goodness are so mixed in him, as to qualify him to embrace the largest interests, and attract the agencies to secure those interests. That his eye sees, and his heart feels, and his philanthropy embraces a larger area, and is acknowledged by a larger portion of the human family than any other living man. I do not say there are not men living whose hearts are as large, whose abilities are as great, and whose virtues are as exalted as Kossuth's. Men, too, whose great qualities under like contingencies would, and by future contingencies may, brighten into a glory as large as his. Nor would I say it does not often require as great, or even greater talents and virtues to accomplish deeds of humanity or patriotism on a theatre vastly less dazzling and imposing. It is not necessary to my argument to exclude such conclusions. When God decrees great events, he brings upon the stage and qualifies the human instrumentalities by which such events are accomplished ; and that, too, at the very time they are needed. We don't know the future ; but if we are to measure the present and the past in the life of Kossuth, leaving alone the shadows which coming events cast in the path of our hopes, we must rank Kossuth with the greatest, and if we couple his heart with his deeds, with the best of mankind.

I am aware that the opinion I here give of the great Magyar, is widely different from the opinions of some others for whom I have very high respect. Gerrit Smith honors Kossuth ; but he honors him only as a patriot, a christian patriot. Professor Atler of Mc Granville College in an oration that does him credit as a philosopher and orator, says, that " he who thinks the largest thought is the ruler of the world," - and yet he dwarfs the character of Kossuth to the simple patriot of Hungary.

To my mind, these are strange conclusions. It is the greatest thoughts illustrated by corresponding action that denotes the ruler of the world. It is the external manifestation of the mighty spiritual that demonstrates the right to rule mankind. Apply that rule to Kossuth, and I maintain his right to the sceptre of the world.

The brotherhood of nations is an idea to which philanthropy only could give birth. Its home is in the hearts of all good men, and yet, until KossuIJi came before the world, that idea had been esteemed so vast in its circumference, so out of the reach of means, so far beyond the grasp of present experience and possibility, that he would have been thought a fanatic or a fool who attempted it. He, indeed, by power strictly personal, not only seized upon it as a practical thought, and nobly argued it, but has actually and bravely entered upon the experiment, and forced it upon the conceptions of the world, and organized, not in om* country only, but in Europe, plans and parties for its realization. Here is not only a great thought^ but a great deed. To gather up the philanthropic minds or the patriot minds of the world to embrace such an enterprise as not only a dutiful but practicable scheme, is an achievement that leaves out of sight any other achievement of eighteen hundred years.

It is not the development of abstract principles in science, in philosophy, or in religion, that establishes the highest claim to the world's gratitude and admiration. It is the successful application of those principles to human life and conduct, the setting them to work to restore the world to the shape and aspect which God gave it, that demonstrates the God-like in man. It is the manifestation of a great idea upon the external, as God's great thoughts are manifested by the landscape, the ocean, and the heavens, by which we arrive at the spiritual power that conceived them. A patriot indeed ! The great Hungarian did attempt to link America to his great purpose by appeals to her patriotism. It was the only common sentiment between our country and him. It is America's loftiest thought. Her beau-ideal of public virtue. I don't mean that there was no Christianity or philanthropy in the United States when Kossuth came amongst us ; but I do mean that, as a nation, we had none of them. He came on an errand of practical philanthropy ; to appeal to our national heart, and cause the only cord of humanity in it that could be touched, to vibrate in unison with his own in behalf of the down-trodden nations of the world. He wished to engage its organic power in behalf of national law. Had Kossuth appealed to any higher principle, he would have overshot his mark. Love of country is common, to the Christian and to the mere patriot. In the latter it is only selfishness, in the former genuine philanthropy. American patriotism was the only aperture through which he could reach our nation's heart, to raise it to the higher region of philanthropy.- and place it in his own bosom, and impregnate it with his own holy sentiments, that their sympathies might circulate together for a common brotherhood. He represented Hungary. He appeared at our door as an outraged brother, to enlist us in behalf of a brother's rights and wrongs. He sought to excite in the nation's bosom the activity of a common principle, due at all times, and from nations no less than individuals. It is the core of Christianity, described in these words, " do unto others as you would have others do unto you."

Our Washington had told us " to cultivate peace with all nations, and form entangling alliances with none." Our sensual and short-sighted statesmen construed the sentiment as the rule of active power. Instead of adopting it as Washington probably intended it, as a rule of temporary policy, they inculcated the notion that we were to cut ourselves clear from the family of nations, and live only for ourselves. The large patriotism of Washington they had shrunken to the merest selfishness. We may well thank God for the providence which sent Kossuth among us, to relieve his fame from the suspicion of having begot, and our country from the sin of cherishing, so weak and dishonoring a delusion. Heaven-assisted man only could have dreamed of believing a nation so securely blinded. Like the prophet of God, whose lips were touched with celestial fire, he breathed upon the spell, and it vanished. The nation's eyes were opened. It ffjBBd all tnu5 men admitted^ that the sentiment was designed and adapted only to our infancy, and, to use hii$ own figure, no more fitting our manhood^ than the clothes of an infant are fitting the full grown man.

Now I admit wc iiad philanthropists, wise men, orators, and some statesmen, who asserted the doctrine of the human brotherhood^ yet we bad no Kossuth to dbsolve (if I may so speak) this Waj*hingtonian delusion. Kossuth touched it and it dmappeared* The nation seemed to have come to a new birth. Its heart, like the rock in the desert which was touched by the staff of the prophet, opened, and it« imprisoned waters poured over the world. Wc ill r^lf as the bondman feels who is set fn f , man. From that moment we grew larger, taw farther, and felt our h^ ; moving over an unlimited area of hurnanJU'. From that moment we felt that a new day was dawning. From that moment the priur iplr^ of the human brotherhood struck its deep roo ju one soil, as immovable as oiir mountains, as* irradjcable a» our religion. Nor wan it in America alone that this sentiment wa:-: rh^m awakened. Touched by his notes, it trembled in th^ n of

Europe. The heart of humanity throbbed vidth a common sympathy throughout the civilized world. Ko»8iith and Mazzini, crushed from beneath, ascended above the dcHpotisms of the world in the clear upper nky, and, in sight of heaven and earth, reflected God's light and curse upon them ; and called into being the activities which we hope is to tumble them in a common ruin, as the precursor of the holy compact which shall secure all human rights.

It is objected that Kossuth did not denounce .our slavery. The same objection has equal strength against the philanthropy of Paul and Jesus. I shall not dwell on this point. He did denounce American slavery. The presence of Kossuth was a killing rebuke, his words a consuming fire to it. The former is still felt as an incurable wound, and the latter still scorches to the very centre of its vitality. I have it from high authority, when Kossuth first came upon the soil, and into the atmosphere of American slavery, his soul was so shocked and disgusted by its offiensiveness, that he proposed to abandon his mission in those States where it existed, and denounce it specifically ; and was only deterred from doing so, by his sense of the more comprehensive claims of that mission, which embraced the utter destruction of all human oppression. I drop this topic with the remark, that this objection, and all objections to his philanthropy, within my knowledge, were made antecedent to his inimitable speech in New York city, in behalf of his mother and sisters, a short time before he took his departure for Europe. If there is not Christianity, philanthropy, antislavery in that speech, we may despair of finding it in earth, or even in the heavens. I have never read anything so representative of heaven's mercy, or ange'ls eloquence, as that. Oh! I wish, the world knew it by heart. Methinks if it did, all wrong and oppression would disappear from among men.

I was going to speak of the future, and of Mazzini, the twin apostle of liberty, whose exile was wrung from the heart of poor Italy. But the subject exceeds the brevity which must govern me. These rulers of the world are linked with the mighty events which are fast becoming history. From their hiding-places in London, they are moving and controlling the passions which seem ready to break forth and obliterate every cruel code under the sun, and hasten the time when all men shall feel as brethren, and mingle their hearts in anthems of gratitude and love.

The Heroic Slave

The State of Virginia is famous in American annals for the multitudinous array of her statesmen and heroes. She has been dignified by some the mother of statesmen. History has not been sparing in recording their names, or in blazoning their deeds. Her high position in this respect, has given her an enviable distinction among her sister States. With Virginia for his birth-place, even a man of ordinary parts, on account of the general partiality for her sons, easily rises to eminent stations. Men, not great enough to attract special attention in their native States, have, like a certain distinguished citizen in the State of New York, sighed and repined that they were not born in Virginia. Yet not all the great ones of the Old

Autographs For Freedom, 175

Dominion have, by the fact of their birth-place, escaped undeserved obscurity. By some strange neglect, one of the truest, manliest, and bravest of her children, - one who, in after years, will, I think, command the pen of genius to set his merits forth, holds now no higher place in the records of that grand old Commonwealth than is held by a horse or an ox. Let those account for it who can, but there stands the fact, that a man who loved liberty as well as did Patrick Henry, - who deserved it as much as Thomas Jefferson, - and who fought for it with a valor as high, an arm as strong, and against odds as great, as he who led all the armies of the American colonies through the great war for freedom and independence, lives now only in the chattel records of his native State.

Glimpses of this great character are all that can now be presented. He is brought to view only by a few transient incidents, and these afford but partial satisfaction. Like a guiding star on a stormy night, he is seen through the parted clouds and the howling tempests ; or, like the gray peak of a menacing rock on a perilous coast, he is seen by the quivering flash of angry lightning, and he again disappears covered with mystery.

Curiously, earnestly, anxiously we peer into the dark, and wish even for the blinding flash, or the light of northern skies to reveal him. But alas ! he is still enveloped in darkness, and we return from the pursuit like a wearied and disheartened mother, (after a tedious and unsuccessful search for a lost child,) who returns weighed down with disappointment and sorrow. Speaking of marks, traces, possibles, and probabilities, we come before our readers.

In the spring of 1835, on a Sabbath morning, within hearing of the solemn peals of the church bells at a distant village, a Northern traveller through the State of Virginia drew up his horse to drink at a sparkling brook, near the edge of a dark pine forest. While his weary and thirsty steed drew in the grateful water, the rider caught the ^ound of a human voice, apparently engaged in « earnest conversation.

Following the direction of the sound, he descried, among the tall pines, the man whose voice had arrested his attention. '' To whom can he be speaking ? " thought the traveller. " He seems to be alone." The circumstance interested him much, and he became intensely curious to know what thoughts and feelings, or, it might be, high aspirations, guided those rich and mellow accents. Tieing his horse at a short distance from the brook, he stealthily drew near the solitary speaker ; and, concealing himself by the side of a huge fallen tree, he distinctly heard the following soliloquy : -

" What, then, is life to me ? it is aimless and worthless, and worse than worthless. Those birds, perched on yon swinging boughs, in friendly conclave, sounding forth their merry notes in seeming worship of the rising sun, though liable to the sportsman's fowling-piece, are still my superiors. They live free^ though they may die slaves. They fly where they list by day, and retire in freedom at night. But what is freedom to me, or I to it ? I ani a slave^ - born a slave, an abject slave, - even before I made part of this breathing world, the scom^ge was platted for my back ; the fetters were forged for my limbs. How mean a thing am I. That accursed and crawling snake, that miserable reptile, that has just glided into its slimy home, is freer and better off than I. He escaped my blow, and is safe. But here am I, a man, - yes, a man I - with thoughts and wishes, with powers and faculties as far as angel's flight above that hated reptile, - yet he is my superior, and scorns to own me as his master, or to stop to take my blows. When he saw my uplifted arm, he darted beyond my reach, and turned to give me battle. I dare not do as much as that. I neither run nor fight, but do meanly stand, answering each heavy blow of a cruel master with doleful wails and piteous cries. I am galled with irons ; but even these are more tolerable than the consciousness, the galling' consciousness of cowardice and indecision. Can it be that I dare not run away? Perish the thought^ I dare do any thing which may be done by another. When that young man struggled with the waves /or life, and others stood back appalled in helpless horror, did I not plunge in, forgetful of life, to save his ? The raging bull from whom all others fled, pale with fright, did I not keep at bay with a single pitchfork ? Could a coward do that ? iVo, - no^ - I wrong myself, - I am no coward. Liberty I will have, or die in the attempt to gain it. This working that others may live in idleness ! This cringing submission to insolence and curses ! This living under the constant dread and apprehension of being sold and transferred, like a mere brute, is too much for me. I will stand it no longer. What others have done, I will do. These trusty legs, or these sinewy arms shall place me among the free. Tom escaped ; so can I. The North Star will not be less kind to me than to him. I will follow it. I will at least make the trial. I have nothing to lose. If 1 am caught, T shall only be a slave. If I am shot, I shall only lose a life which is a burden and a curse. If I get clear, (as something tells me I shall,) liberty, the inalienable birth-right of every man, precious and priceless, will be mine. My resolution is fixed. I shall be free.'^^

At these words the traveller raised his head cautiously and noiselessly, and caught, from his hiding-place, a full view of the unsuspecting speaker. Madison (for that was the name of our hero) was standing erect, a smile of satisfaction rippled upon his expressive countenance, like that which plays upon the face of one who has but just solved a difficult problem, or vanquished a malignant foe ; for at that moment he was free, at least in spirit. The future gleamed brightly before him, and his fetters lay broken at his feet. His air was triumphant.

Madison was of manly form. Tall, symmetrical, round, and strong. In his movements he seemed to combine, with the strength of the lion, a lion's elasticity. His torn sleeves disclosed arms like polished iron. His face was " black, but comely." His eye, lit with emotion, kept guard under a brow as dark and as glossy as the raven's wing. His whole appearance betokened Herculean strength ; yet there was nothing savage or forbidding in his aspect. A child might play in his arms, or dance on his shoulders. A giant's strength, but not a giant's heart was in him. His broad mouth and nose spoke only of good nature and kindness. But his voice, that unfailing index of the soul, though full and melodious, had that in it which could terrify as well as charm. He was just the man you would choose when hardships were to be endured, or danger to be encountered, - intelligent and brave. He had the head to conceive, and the hand to execute. In a word, he was one to be sought as a friend, but to be dreaded as an enemy.

As our traveller gazed upon him, he almost trembled at the thought of his dangerous intrusion. Still he could not quit the place. He had long desired to sound the mysterious depths of the thoughts and feelings of a slave. He was not, therefore, disposed to allow so providential an opportunity to pass unimproved. He resolved to hear more ; so he listened again for those mellow and mournful accents which, he says, made such an impression upon him as can never be erased. He did not have to wait long. There came another gush from the same full fountain ; now bitter, and now sweet. Scathing denunciations of the cruelty and injustice of slavery ; heart-touching narrations of his own personal suffering, intermingled with prayers to the God of the oppressed for help and deliverance, were followed by presentations of the dangers and difficulties of escape, and formed the burden of his eloquent utterances ; but his high resolution clung to him, - for he ended each speech by an emphatic declaration of his purpose to be free. It seemed that the very repetition of this, imparted a glow to his countenance. The hope of freedom seemed to sweeten, for a season, the bitter cup of slavery, and to make it, for a time, tolerable ; for when in the very whirlwind of anguish, - when his heart's cord seemed screwed up to snapping tension, hope sprung up and soothed his troubled spirit. Fitfully he would exclaim, " How can. I leave her ? Poor thing I what can she do when I am gone ? Oh ! oh ! 't is impossible that I can leave poor Susan ! "

A brief pause intervened. Our traveller raised his head, and saw again the sorrow-smitten slave. His eye was fixed upon the gi'ound. The strong man staggered under a heavy load. Recovering himself, he argued thus aloud : " All is uncertain here. To-morrow's sun may not rise before I am sold, and separated from her I love. What, then, could I do for her ? I should be in more hopeless

This said, Madison cast around a searching glance, as if the thought of being overheard had flashed across his mind. He said no more, but, with measured steps, walked away, and was lost to the eye of our traveller amidst the wildering woods.