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not unmingled with tones of sorrow and accents of earnest entreaty, which urge us, if we can do no more, at least to cast up a safe highway from the land of republican bondage to the home of freedom under a monarch's protecting rule. And what tumultuous acclaim, even while you are yet assembled, swells up from the freed Antilles," like the roar of pent-up seas bursting their rocky barriers; and tells a nation joy at the returning aniversary of its

same voice, which bids you for very shame to suffer no longer in quiet "the free United States to cherish the slavery which a king has abolished?"— What are the taunts flung at you from beyond the waters; from crowned despots and their minions, scorning a slaveholding republicanism; from pagans at their idol shrines, sneering at a heathenizing

griefs which may not be spoken in the ear of man lest falling lashes should smother their attempted utterance; all tones of wild despair, all muttered curses and half breathed prayers to God for vengeance; every low whisper, passing round dark circles of midnight plotters in the forest's gloom, ripening their schemes of flight, or bloody retribution; all aspirations of that hope which gives the fugitive strength to his toil-worn limbs, courage to his fainting soul, speed to his flying steps; the emancipation? What is it but another tone of that stealthy foot-fall through slumbering villages or towns at midnight, and the rustle of dry leaves in solitary wood-paths; the bloodhound's bay, the rifle's sharp crack, and whizzing of the ball, the shout of savage exultation which hails its deadly aim, the bubbling rush of its victim's life stream from the fatal wound; all mingle in the ceaseless cry which bids you up to the rescue." In the lament, too, of Christianity? What, but variations of the same darkened minds and benighted souls, chained in ignorance by statute prohibitions, and doomed to heathenism by the usages of a Christain people, you hear the emphatic call for help. The enslaved consciences of millions, clanking their spiritual shackles, and demanding a release from their galling weight, appeal to your consciences, making them your accusers if you put forth no effort for their disenthralment. Sounds not that appeal in your ears like the death groan of starving souls, perishing for lack of that bread of life which should nourish them? The whole South land is lifting up its voice; not from living things alone, but the very stones are crying out of the walls of its dilapidated mansions and deserted sanctuaries, "wo to him that buildeth a town with blood, and establisheth a city with iniquity;" and the beam out of the timber is answering them, accusing slavery of their too early decay and ruin; and calling on you as sharers in the common interest of the whole country, to drive out the abomination which maketh desolate, and bring in that builder of old waste places, that upraiser of the foundations of many generations, free industry. The once fruitful fields, now slavery-cursed with barrenness; the pine woods over-growing olden cultivations and echoing in their gloomy depths the howl of "wolves returned after the lapse of a century," send up their call with all the earnestness of dying prosperity gasping hard for breath, and praying for renewed life. Nor from the South alone rises up the call to anti-slavery effort. From many a flying captive, wandering over the wide north, seeking shelter in the shadow of our liberty tree on our boasted free soil, and finding that the hand of "com promise" has pruned away its branches, till oppression's sun-stroke can smite him even here, and wither his blooming hopes; is pealing out a call for protection and deliverance;

"While from the dark Canadian woods,
The loud reply comes thundering out,
Above Niagara's boiling floods,

The rescued bondman's triumph shout;"

unceasing voice, which will still roar, and shriek, and groan, and sigh, and wail, and entreat, and accuse, and condemn, till your brother's blood no longer gives it its startling tones and unearthly power? The earth which drunk that blood-which drinks it still, warm-dripping from the lash-sends up continually its accusing cry to heaven. The heaven which looked on with astonishment, hurls back its response from the black thunder-cloud, and writes it with quivering lightnings all over its broad expanse. The rivers, discolored with the crimson stain, sweep oceanward with indignant rush, pouring out their complaints in every ripple of the current as they dash along. The ocean flings them back with its loud voice of many waters, as his foam-crested bil. lows tumble in upon the trembling shore. And He that sitteth on the circle of the heavens, that spread abroad the earth and stretched the clouds above it like the curtains of a tent, and channelled it with river courses, and scooped out the hollows for the seas, that makes them all the instruments of his will, when, by terrible things in righteousness, he would vindicate the honor of his violated laws, and avenge the cause of the helpless and injured poor, he is shaping into articulate sounds those thunders above, and that voice of the waters below, and, as it were, bending those lightning flashes into forms and characters which may be read-pealing upon your ears with the one, and blazing upon your dazzling eyes with the other, "Execute judgment in the morning, and deliver him that is spoiled out of the hand of the oppressor, lest my fury go out like fire, and burn that none can quench it, because of the evil of your doings." And I rejoice to know that you are not utterly unheedful of the call, but have banded yourselves together to work, by your united zeal and energy, the required deliverance; not by retaliating upon the evil-doer the evil he has done; not by washing out with his blood the blood-stain with which he has polluted the land; not by “phy sical resistance, the marshalling in arms, the hostile

encounter;" but by the opposition of moral puri-shields him from the perils he must else have braved

by such a course? could he even have attempted it? If his labors are producing abundant fruit, it is because yours have broken and mellowed to some degree the soil, and diffused a more genial temperature throughout the moral atmosphere.

But I meant not to speak so long of what has been. It behooves us, rather, forgetting the things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those which are before, to press toward the mark for the prize of our high calling. The little which has been done, may be hastily glanced at now and then, as encouragement to new exertion, but must not be dwelt upon as if it were the fulfilment of our duty; must not be permitted to hide from our eyes the vastly more which yet lies unaccomplished before us. And with you I am confident it will not. You have not just put on the harness of this Christian warfare, to boast yourseves as he that putteth it off, after the battle has been fought and the victory won.


There is another subject on which my mind has dwelt much, and which I hope will claim some

ty to moral corruption, the destruction of error by the potency of truth, the overthrow of prejudice by the power of love, the abolition of slavery by the spirit of repentance :" thus conferring a blessing at once upon the oppressor and his victim. Not in vain have you enlisted in this holy war; holy, no less because of its weapons, than of its objects. Not in vain have you devoted your strength to this labor of love, spending it for the good of those from whom you look for no recompense. Not in vain have you encountered reproach and persecution-braved the wrath of the mob, suffered the loss of property by the outbreaks of lawless violence, endured personal indignities, and faced personal dangers. Not in vain, even if you could as yet see no fruits of your labor, so far as its direct purpose is concerned; even if no fetter had yet been broken, no blessing of them that were ready to perish, but are now set in safety from the reach of the destroyer, had yet come upon you. Your own consciousness bears witness that he, in whose service you are engaged, is no exactor of unrequited toil; that he does not even wait the finishing of the day's work, before he begins the pay-share of your attention. I mean the duty toward ment of its wages. You have tasted the reward in our brethern flying from oppression, which grows the inward peace which obedience has produced; in out of the recent decision of the Supreme Court.the sweet satisfaction which flows from the exercise That we are verily guilty concerning our brother, so of kindly emotions, and the sacrifice of present per-long as we consent to aid in re-enslaving him if he sonal indulgence and ease to the toils of benevolence, attempts to escape-so long as we leave unused any and in the pleasures of social intercouse, and a feel- rightful means in our power to assist his self-deliving of brotherly union in a common cause, height-erance, I need not so say to such an assembly as ened by the consideration of the nobleness of that cause; purified by the disinterestedness of that feeling. But this has not been your only reward. You have seen the work of the Lord prospering in your hands. He who sows the seed expects to wait long and patiently for the harvest, before its waving wealth shall cover the furrows, or its ripened sheaves shall crowd the barns. Yet, in your case the reaper seems already treading on the sower's heel, and the harvest of the last sown furrow supplies the seed for the next. A Birney, a Nelson, a Brisbane, and a Thome, are not the only trophies of past success, nor the only auxiliaries of future effort. Not the converted slaveholder alone, but the liberated slave also, is at once the witness of what has been done, and the helper in what is yet to do. Where, but for your efforts, would have been some of the voices which are now pleading, with the earnest eloquence of simple nature, for the deliverance of the enslaved, and moving the whole land with their strong appeals? To name no other-would Douglas be now rousing the country to a state of healthy agitation; would he be going from city to city, and town to town, and village to village, with his story of the captive's wrongs; awakening sympathy, enkindling zeal, and enlisting effort-if northern abolitionists had not prepared the public mind to receive him, and formed a public sentiment which

this letter is designed for. But what ought we to do, what can we do with the most effect, for the attainment of our fixed purpose? That we will never lift a finger to help the kidnapper, however strong the authority of statute, or constitution, or judicial decision with which he is clothed, I take for granted is our unanimous, undisguised determination. That we will do our best, by all means which the moral law condemns not, to baffle him and save the prey from his talons, I trust we are equally well agreed on, and equally open in avowing. Now, as we have the highest judicial authority of the nation for the doctrine that the federal government cannot require State officers to enforce its decrees, and that the several States may forbid all giving of aid by their official agents, to the re-capture of fugitive slaves, it seems to me that every free State owes it to its own character, to justice, to humanity, to pass an act at the earliest possible opportunity, imposing such prohibition; and that abolitionists everywhere ought to bestir themselves in this matter, and by pe. titions, and their personal influence, where they have any, with their representatives, and by whatever means are proper and lawful, endeavor to bring about so desirable an end. The South should be made to know that we are not only determined to hinder, as far as we can, her attempts to make effective for injustice a compromise which ought never to have

been made; and which, when made, being immoral | Not by deeds that win the world's applauses;

in its nature, is not binding, and cannot be, and must ever be more honored in the breach than the observance;" but that we are resolved to get all we can to help us, and to make the whole policy of the North, so far as we can mould it, a barrier against the re-enslavement of the self-emancipated bondman,

who seeks a shelter within our borders.

But I will trespass on your time and patience no longer. I could not feel willing to let your gathering pass away without a greeting from your absent brother, and his fervently uttered God-speed to your exertions; and, having begun to talk, I have been borne along beyond my original purpose, till now, if I close not speedily, there will be no room in the sheet for signature or superscription. Blame me not, beloved friends and fellow-laborers, that I seem thus reluctant to part with you. The memory of our toils and trials together, the thought of all that we have enjoyed in common, the remembrance of the abundant kindness and generous hospitality I have so often received at your hands, while laboring with you in this good work, and of the warm personal friendship, the confidence and brotherly affection with which you have honored and cheered me,-these come thronging upon me, as I turn to take my leave, and swell my bosom with emotions, which you may conceive but I cannot utter. Farewell, brethren and sisters. May He whose wisdom is profitable to direct, and whose arm is strong to defend and mighty to save, be with you in all your deliberations; give prudence to your counsels, vigor to your measures, success to your enterprise. May he guide you in life and sustain you in death, and reward you at last with the welcome invitation, « Well done, good and faithful servants, enter ye into the joy of your Lord."



Why thus longing, why for ever sighing
For the far-off, unattained and dim;
While the beautiful, all around thee lying,
Offers up its low perpetual hymn?

Would'st thou listen to its gentle teaching,

All thy restless yearning it would still;
Leaf and flower, and laden bee are preaching,
Thine own sphere, though humble, first to fill.

Poor indeed thou must be, if around thee
Thou no ray of light and joy can'st throw,
If no silken cord of love hath bound thee
To some little_world, through weal and wo;

If no dear eye thy fond love can brighten—
No fond voices answer to thine own;
If no brother's sorrow thou can'st lighten,
By daily sympathy and gentle tone.

Not by works that give thee world-renown;
Nor by martyrdom, or vaunted crosses,
Can'st thou win and wear the immortal crown.
Daily struggling, though unloved and lonely,
Every day a rich reward will give;
Thou wilt find, by hearty striving only,
And truly loving, thou can'st truly live.
Dost thou revel in the rosy morning,
When all nature hails the lord of light,
And his smile, the mountain-tops adorning,
Robes yon fragrant fields in radiance bright?
Other hands may grasp the field and forest,
Proud proprietors in pomp may shine;
But with fervent love, if thou adorest,

Thou art wealthier-all the world is thine!

Yet, if through earth's wide domains thou rovest,
Sighing that they are not thine alone,

Not those fair fields, but thyself thou lovest,
And their beauty, and thy wealth are gone.
Nature wears the color of the spirit;

Sweetly to her worshipper she sings;
All the glow, the grace she doth inherit,
Round her trusting child, she fondly flings.



How happy is he born or taught,

That serveth not another's will;
Whose armour is his honest thought,

And simple truth his highest skill:

Whose passions not his masters are;
Whose soul is still prepared for death;
Not tied unto the world with care
Of princes' ear or vulgar breath:
Who hath his life from rumors freed;
Whose conscience is his strong retreat:
Whose state can neither flatterers feed,
Nor ruin make oppressors great:
Who envies none whom chance doth raise,
Or vice who never understood
How deepest wounds are given with praise;
Nor rules of state, but rules of good:
Who God doth late and early pray

More of his grace than gifts to lend;
And entertains the harmless day

With a well chosen book or friend.
This man is freed from servile hands
Of hope to rise, or fear to fall;
Lord of himself, though not of lands;
And having nothing, yet hath all.

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Contentment spreads her holy calm
Around her resting place so bright,
And gloomy sorrow finds a balm,
In gazing at so fair a sight;
The world's cold selfishness departs,

And discord rears its front no more,
There pity's pearly tear drop starts,
And charity attends the door.

No biting scandal, fresh from hell,

Grates on the ear, or scalds the tongue; There kind remembrance loves to dwell, And virtue's meed is sweetly sung : And human nature soars on high, Where heavenly spirits love to roam, And vice, as stalks it rudely by, Admires the Christian's happy home.

Oft have I join'd the lovely ones, Around the bright and cheerful hearth,

With father, mother, daughters, sons,

The brightest jewels of the earth;
And while the world grew dark around,
And fashion called her senseless throng,
I've fancied it was holy ground,

And that fair girl's a seraph's song.

And swift as circles fade away

Upon the bosom of the deep, When pebbles toss'd by boys at play Disturb its still and glassy sleep; The hours have sped in pure delight,

And wand'ring feer forgot to roam, While waved the banners of the night Above the Christian's happy home.

The rose that blooms in Sharon's vale,
And scents the purple morning's breath,
May in the shades of evening fail,

And bend its crimson head in death;
And earth's bright ones amid the tomb
May, like the blushing rose, decay;
But still the mind, the mind shall bloom,
When time and nature fade away.

And there amid a holier sphere,
Where the arch-angel bows in awe,
Where sits the King of Glory near,

To execute his perfect law,
The ransom'd of the earth, with joy,
Shall in their robes of beauty come,
And find a rest without alloy,
Amid the Christian's happy home!


has half a dozen squalling children to torment and impoverish him.

The unfortunate neighbour, however, returns the compliment with interest, sighs over the loneliness of the wealthy bachelor, and can never see, without feelings of regret, rooms where no stray plaything tells of the occasional presence of a child, gardens where no tiny foot-mark reminds him of his treasures at home. He has listened to his heart, and learned from it a precious secret; he knows how to convert noise into harmony, expense into self-gratification, and trouble into amusement; and he reaps in one day's intercouse with his family, a harvest of love and enjoyment rich enough to repay years of toil and care. He listens eagerly on his threshold for the boisterous greeting he is sure to receive, feels refreshed by the mere pattering sound of the darlings' feet, as they hurry to receive his kiss, and cures, by a noisy game at romps, the weariness and head-ache which he gained in his intercourse with


But it is not only to their parents and near connexions, that children are interesting and delightful; they are general favourites, and their caresses are slighted by none but the strange, the affected, or the morose. I have, indeed, heard a fine lady declare that she preferred a puppy or a kitten to a child; and I wondered she had not sense enough to conceal her want of womanly feeling; and I know another fair simpleton, who considers it beneath her to notice those from whom no intellectual improvement can be derived, forgetting that we have hearts to cultivate as well as heads. But these are extraordinary exceptions to general rules, as uncommon and disgusting as a beard on a lady's chin, or a pipe in her mouth. Even men may condescend to sport with children without fear of contempt; and for those who like He must be incorrigibly unamiable, who is not a to shelter themselves under authority, and cannot little improved by becoming a father. Some there venture to be wise and happy their own way, we are, however, who know not how to appreciate the have plenty of splendid examples, ancient and modblessings with which Providence has filled their ern, living and dead, to adduce, which may sanction quiver; who receive with coldness a son's greeting a love of these pigmy playthings. Statesmen have or a daughter's kiss; who have principle enough romped with them, orators told them stories, conproperly to feed and clothe, and educate their chil-querors submitted to their blows, judges, divines dren, to labor for their support and provision, but and philosophers listended to their prattle, and joinpossess not the affection which turns duty into de-ed in their sports. light; who are surrounded with blossoms, but know not the art of extracting their exquisite sweets.— How different is the effect of true parental love, where nature, duty, habit and feeling combine to constitute an affection the purest, the deepest and the strongest, the most enduring, the least exacting of any of which the human heart is capable!

The selfish bachelor may shudder, when he thinks of the consequences of a family; he may picture to himself littered rooms, and injured furniture, imagine the noise and confusion, the expense and the cares, from which he is luckily free; hug himnelf in his solitude, and pity his unfortunate neighbour, who

Spoiled children are, however, excepted from this partiality; every one joins in visiting the faults of others upon their heads, and hating these unfortunate victims of their parents' folly. They must be bribed to good behaviour, like many of their elders; they insist upon fingering your watch, and spoiling what they do not understand, like numbers of the patrons of literature and the arts; they will sometimes cry for the moon, as absurdly as Alexander for more worlds; and when they are angry, they have no mercy for cups and saucers. They are as unreasonable, impatient, selfish, exacting and whimsical, as grown-up men and women, and only want the var

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