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VOL. I.
hues is&mm mmm
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OFFICE on Mulberry Street, East of the Floyd House and near the
Market.
•% Cflrnrr,
[For the Georgia Citizen.]
IDOL’S OF LODE,
No. 5.
BY T. It. CHIVKRS, M. D.
The Lady’s Song to Her Lorcr.
Tell him that Luna leads
The same dear stars that shone
Upon our dew-lit meads,
When we were all alone.
Tell him that when my heart
Shall rock his head again,
That we no more shall part,
And he will love me then.
Tell him—thy wings are fleet—
My sands are running fast—
That, as our first was sweet,
Shall be our very last 1
Tell him—thy wings are fleet—
And, oh 1 his heart is true !
Tell him that we shall meet
No more on earth—adieu !
The Lover’s Reply to His Lady.
Tell her she need not yearn
For one she would not know;
The heart that wounds, must learn
To feel another's wo!
Tell her that too much joy—
A theme but seldom sung—
Would soon, like grief, destroy’
The heart that she lias wrung!
Tell her she need not pine—
A few short, rolling years
Will bring me unto mine,
And wipe away my tears!
Tell her without my soul
Shall leave my burning breast—
That—then—Adieu —console
Her with eternal rest!
MY COUNTRY.
BY IIE.YRY M. SMITH.
I love my country's pine-clad hills,
Her thousand bright and gushing rills,
Her sunshine and her storm—
Her rough and rugged rocks that rear
Their hoary heads high in the air,
In wild fantastic form.
I love her rivers deep and wide,
And those bright streams that sea-board glide,
To seek the ocean’s breast;
Her smiling fields, her fertile vales,
Her shady dells, her pleasant dales,
Her haunts of peaceful rest.
I love her forest dark and lone,
For there the wild bird’s merry tone
I heard from morn till night;
And there are lovelier flowers, I ween,
Than e'er in eastern lands were seen,
In varied colors bright.
Her forests and her valleys tair,
Her flowers that soent the morning air,
Have all their charms for me;
Bqt more I love my country’s name,
Those words that echo deathless fame,
And sound from sea to sea.
From the Dollar Newspaper.
HE DOETII A LI. THINGS WELL.
BY M. WHEELER.
God built the glorious firmament,
And placed therein the stars
And part of them on journeys sent,
In bright eternal cars—
He doeth all things well;
He doeth all things well,
lie formed this rolling globe of ours,
And set thereon frail man,
And gave his mind immortal powers,
And made his life a span
lie doeth all things well;
He doeth all tilings well,
tie makes the seasons come and go,
In one unfailing round,
The spring-time when the young shoots grow,
The autumn when they’re bound—
lie doeth all things well;
He doeth all things well.
He turns the tides of men's affairs,
Whichever way is best,
Aor sighs, nor tears, nor scarcely prayers,
Can alter them the least—-
He doeth all things well;
He doeth all things well!
Then let us put oar trust in Him—
The God of Heaven above—
ho keepeth, ay, llis lamp in triin,
And watehetb us in love—
He doeth all things well;
He doeth all things well.
Mnesdaie, 1850.
From the Hartford Tunes.
“COMPANY EVERY DAY.”
BY MRS. CAROLINE A. SOCLE.
u There is no place like home,” saith the song; but what
say our youths and maidens 1
Ihe family of Mr. Elton, with the exception of the
eldest son, were assembled, one cold winter’s eve
ning, in what w as styled by the household the little
back chamber. They called it little, not only be
cause its dimensions fairly entitled it to that ‘adjec
tive, but also to distinguish it from the back cham
ber of the main house.
The little one was in an ell directly over the
kitchen, and originally designed, one might suppose,
to serve in the capacity of a safety-valve for it, as,
when the steam, smoke, odor, or heat, (which last,
though, was not often the case,) became disagreea
ble to the “hired help,” she had only to open the
back stair door and the lower room was speedily re
lieved of its surplus moisture, vapor, smell, or calor
ic, as the case might be.
This little back room, which, by the way, had been
the cause of considerable contention during the
three years Mr. Elton had occupied the house, was of
an indefinable shape. It was neither squarb nor
round, yet it had both straight lines and curves.—
The ceiling was low, and, in consequence of the cu
linary clouds which swept so often across it, of an
iron-gray hue; while the walls, which in common
parlance were “ white washed y oiler f had from the
same cause assumed a shade similar to that which
distinguished an old cent,
The furniture w as very simple, nothing but w hat
seemed actually necessary finding a place there. —
The floor, or middle portion of it rather, was cover
ed with a rag carpet, in which one might see, not on
ly every color, but every shade of color under the
sun; while the nooks and corners were pieced out
with bits of oil-cloth, green baize, and worn-out
druggets. An old fashioned turn up bedstead oc
cupied one corner, concealed by curtains made from
old calico dresses, and like delicate drapery shaded
the two windows. A three-legged stand, which had
been the crowning ornament of Mrs. Elton’s grand
mother's square room; five chairs, no two of which
were alike, and all so antiquated and tottling as to
lead one to suspect they came out of the May Flower,
if not out of the ark; a dumb stove, and a couple of
wooden stools, comprised the inventory.
Everything was scrupulously neat, except the
ceiling and walls; everything was in perfect order,
and yet the room wore anything but an inviting
look, and produced any other than a pleasant sensa
tion upon entering it. One felt, when seated there
that he had a roof to shelter him; but as to farther
sense of comfort, there was none. Vet this room—
this little, low, ugly, chilling, grease-scented hole,
with its dingy walls, and antediluvian-like furniture
—was, during the day and evening, used as parlor
and sitting-room W all the members of Mr. Elton’s
family, and in the night as a sleeping-room for the
two daughters.
Why, think you ? Because it was the poorest,
meanest apartment in the whole house, and it saved
labor, tiiiu', light, fuel, wear and tear, and et ceteras
innumerfrole, to occupy it as they did. And, more
over —and this was the climax of all the reasons,
and had been advanced again and again by Mrs.
Elton, —“it kept the front part of the house in such
nice order for company !”
This Mrs. Elton was a woman of many excellent
qualities. She was a pattern housekeeper, active,
industrious, frugal,neat. It would have been diffi
cult to have gathered a“a spoonful of dirt” in her
whole house; there was never a dish appeared on her
table spoiled in the cooking, never a garment laid
away unmended; never anything lost or wasted. —
She was called, too, a model wife and mother. —
There was no man in the town whose linen was so
white, or clothes were so well brushed and cared for
as her husband’s; there were no children who in
appearance or behaviour excelled hers. Were her
family ill, she forgot her own existence in the care
she bestowed upon them, and whether sick or well
herself, labored for them incessantly—work seem
ing indeed the object for which she lived.
Much of their present prosperity was evidently
owing to her good management and skill in the
household affairs. They had begun at the foot of
the ladder, but, after a union of nineteen years, had
left many a round behind them. They dwelt in a
spacious, elegant house, furnished (one room except
ed) with taste and splendor; had a comfortable sum
at interest, and were doing a prosperous business.
The world had looked on, and its comment had al
ways been —“Elton is a lucky fellow; but no wonder,
he has such a capital wife;” and more than one man
had secretly envied him his treasure. Everybody
told him that he ought to he a very happy man;
that his ought to be a very happy family! He
thought so too, and tried to imagine they were; —but
years of stern reality had convinced him that such
was not the case, and often he feared it never would
be. And why! A reason there was, a strange one
too. He was Mrs. Elton’s husband, and the young
boys and girls that clustered around the fireside,
her children. i)o you stare ? Let me state it
then, in another form. He and his children were
only ‘"her own family — they were not company !”
Mrs. Elton, with all her good qualities, and they
were many and fine ones, belonged to that class,
(alas that I should have to add it,) that large class,
who think nothing too good for company, nothing
too poor for their family. There was no need ot
warming the parlors every day and lighting them
every evening just for own folks; the little hack
chamber would do quite as well. There was no use
of using the dining room at every meal; spreading
the table with a damask cloth and china and silver;
and the kitchen with coarse, brown linen, cheap
crockery and plated spoons, would do just as well
when they were all alone. And so on, ad infinitum.
Iler own family must not take the comfort of their
wealth, because, forsooth, something might wear
out. Yet she would give parties, though the com
pany did more injury to her house and furniture in
a single evening than her own family would do in a
whole year. A plain table would do for themselves,
yet she would furnish an entertainment for visitors,
the cost of which would spread their private board
with luxuries for many months. She lox ed her
husband and children dearly, but there was no use
of making a fuss for them ; that must be ieser\ ed
for company. She must do her duty to her family,
not strive to make their home a happy one. Her
house must be pleasant when friends were gathered
there, it was no concern of hers how dull, w hen
they were absent.
They were assembled, as I have said, one cold
winter evening in the little back chamber. Mr. El
ton sat in the corner, his chair leaned back, his head
resting on the wall, his arms folded listlessly. His
eyes were cast upward with a steady gaze, riveted
probably on some imaginary pictures, for that ceil
ing surely could not thus arrest them. His coun
tenance wore one of these moody expression.-', so
“3tßqjmiicnt in all tljings—Neutral in Notljiuig.”
MACON, GEORGIA, FRIDAY MORNING, JUNE, 28, 1850.
difficult to analyze, so unpleasant to behold. He
had dropped off his slippers and thrust one and then
the other against the dumb stove, as though he
thought by pressure to elicit some little warmth. A
w ise proceeding in truth, for if there were any heat
in that stove it was fair to conclude that it was all
latent; at least so spake those blue noses and quiv
ering shins. The model wife sat in an opposite cor
ner, busily engaged in knitting. One might have
supposed, to see her fingers ply, that a fortune de
pended upon her toeiug off her stocking that eve
ning. Around the stove were gathered the two girls
and the youngest boy, all conning their lessons for
the morrow. A goodly portion of the evening had
been spent by them, in a vain attempt to make their
lamps give light without smoking. One would pick
up the wick and exclaim, “now I can sec a little
better,” and another would draw it dow r n, saying—
“l shall he suffocated with the smoke.” Finally,
it would seem that they came to the conclusion that
what could not be cured must be endured, and
chose w hat seemed to them the least of the two
evils, a miserable caricature of light. Though once
in a while, when a momentary pain flashed through
their strained eyes, their lips would curl, and a keen
ear might have detected escaping from them, the
words “cheap oil!”
A cold blast swept down the alley and shrieked
around the ell. An involuntary shiver ran over the
parents and children, and they looked hastily to
wards the stove.
“Do, fur pity’s sake,” exclaimed the youngest
girl to her brother, “run down and put some wood
in the stove. I don’t believe there is a spark of fire;
I’ve been half frozen all the evening, and I shall soon
l>e quite so, if somebody don’t conjure up a little
heat.” ‘
“I should think,’’said the eldest one, in a tone
purposely affected, as she looked up from her phi
losophy, “the mercury would hardly rise higher than
zero here.”
“It’s well for you, then, sis that you ain’t a ther
mometer,” cried the hoy in his blunt way. “Here,
put on your cloaks,” and he brought them from a
closet and threw them over their shoulders: “wrap
yourselves up in them a few minutes, and I reckon
I'll steam up here some. Yes,” apostrophizing the
stove, “I'll warm your dumb tongue so it i’ll talk a
little. Give us the light.” •
“The lamp, you mean, Ed,” said Fanny, rather
drily.
“Oh, yes, I forgot; there is a difference and he
bolted down stairs, his mother calling to him, “one
or two sticks will do, Edward; it’s almost bedtime.”
If his ears heard the words, and it was hardly pos
sible for it to be otherwise, his mind did not seem to
comprehend them, for furiously raking up the em
bers, and trespassing without mercy on the morrow’s
kindling, he crow ded in piece after piece, till he fil
led the stove with a generous warmth.
“I wish,’’ exclaimed he, as lie was running up
stairs; “I wish,” repeated he as he leaped into the
room : then as lie put down the lamp and seated
himself on one of the stools close to the stove, quite
out of breath, he a third time cried out, “1 wish”
“Wish what, Ed ?” said Fanny. ‘-Do pray, take
a long breath and speak out.”
“Well, then, I wish wo could have company eve
ry day.”
The girls laughed, nevertheless exclaimed with
one voice, “we’ll join you in that;” then speakingthe
words slowly, as though she were all the while
thinking, Mary continued, “if we only could have
company every day.”
“VVhat, children!’’ cried Mrs. Elton, and her
mouth and throat were full of impressive sentences
as to the folly of such wishes, when a sudden'glance
at her husband checked their utterance, and she
swallowed or rather choked them down.
“Why ? children,” said the father; why should
you like to have company every day.”
“Oh, because” exclaimed Mary; “because,
because,” chimed in Fanny and Edward.
“Because what ? Don’t all speak at once ! Come
Mary, as the eldest I will begin w ith you.”
“Oh, I have forty reasons, father.’’
“Say a hundred,” said Fanny.
“A thousand, while you’re about it,” said Ed
ward.
“Well,” said Mary, “I can sum them all in one
sentence; I am so much happier then.”
“Happier when strangers are around you, than
when your beloved parents and sisters and brother?
asked her father a little reproachfully.
The tears gushed to her eyes. “You misunder
stand me, indeed you do, father. It is not the com
pany I care so much about, though I dearly love to
see friends: it is not that so much as the privileges
we have then.”
“Whatmean you by privileges child? and Mr.
Elton darted a searching glance at his wife.
“Why a great many tilings, father. For instance,
that of having the parlors opened and warmed and
lighted, and then sitting down in them and enjoying
their comforts. I believe 1 should feel a great deal
better if 1 could spend all my evenings down stairs,
and gaze upon those superb pictures and ornaments,
tastefully arranged curtains and those charming
frescoes. 1 shouldn’t tease you to go out half so of
ten, if we sat down there all the time, but up here,’,
she hesitated.
“Your father and I,” said the mother in a some
what bitter tonep“would have been glad of so com
fortable a room as this, w hen we began the world.’’
“Well, mother, if we hadn’t any better room
than this, if we couldn’t afford to have any other, I
shouldn’t complain. As it is” a long pause —
“if ever I have a house, my family shall have the
comfort of it.”
Fearing an outbreak from his partner, Mr. Elton
interrupted Mary by appealing to the second daugh
ter for her reasons.”
“Mary gave some, in what she said about the
parlor. We often lay awake nights aud paint pic
tures of them.”
“Your brush ? Your brush ? sis,” cried Ed, blunt
as usual.
“Our tongues are our brushes, sir. They are not
pictures for the eye to but for the heart to re
vel on; word pictures, home pictures, we call them.
If we could only see them in reality how happy
should we be.”
“What do you suppose, though;” asked the lad,
in a voice indicative of momentous thought, “what
do you suppose, girls, would become of-this little
back chamber if we should have company and use
the parlors ?
“Oh, 1 have it now;” and a roguish smile lurked
in the corners of his eyes and his dimpled cheeks.
“It would be a capital place for old Rover to sleep.
It’s too bad to put him out of doors such cold
nights.”
“A fine opinion you must have of our bedcham
ber, to think of turning it into a dogkeunel,” re
torted Fanny, as though highly offended. Then
turnin'* to her father she continued: “you know
too, we always use the dining room when we have
company, and it is so muck pleasanter than that
kitchen. I wonder sometimes you can keep your
patience there. Ellen is sure to have half a dozen
pots to scrape and as many pans to make a clatter
ing; and then she always takes that time to rake out
her stove, and in short, do everything that’ll make
a noise : it’s a confnsion of kettles if not of tongues.
And then we can never get through supper with
out having some strange body thrust its head into
the door to know ‘is thar here a girl by the name of
Ellen O’Leary lives with ye, mam ?’ and she gave
the accent perfectly.
They all laughed, even her mother, though she
immediately smothered her face, saying, “many a
one would be glad of so good a place to eat in.”
“True, mother,” rejoined the daughter; “but I
say as Mary did of the parlors; if we had no better
place, I should be contented; no, I can’t say that
quite, but I shouldn’t grumble. I always have, and
I always shall say, there is no use in having money,
if it don’t increase our happiness. We might as
well be poor as to live all the time as though we
were. But come, master Ed. let us have your rea
sons, your thousand reasons.”
“Well then—l declare I don’t know where to
begin. Oh ! the hall lamp it is always lighted then
aud I don’t risk breaking my legs every time I come
in. They are black and blue now, with poking
through the dark. And then—well everything is
good natured then, and that’s enough of itself to
make anybody wish for company every day. Be
sides, we always have good things to eat then, and j
don’t have to eat them off cracked earthen ware I
either; and then—well the beginning and end of the
story is, we have a first rate time all round. I al
ways give three cheers, when I come in sight of the
house aud find the parlor blinds open. If ever I get
to be a married man, I mean to call my wife and
children company , so as to have a good time every
day !”
“But tell me, said Mr. Elton, addressing the
three, “if you could have the pleasure attendant
upon the reception of company, without their pre
sence would you be as well satisfied ?”
“Yes, yes indeed;” responded they with one
voice. “We wish for company every day,” said Ma
ry, because we should like to have our home plea
sant and happy every day; and you know, father,
you have said it too, it is the dullest place in all cre
ation when we are alone.”
An awkward silence ensued.
Mary broke it by observing in an anxious tone,
“the reason that I have most at heart father, for de
siring company every day, is on account of brother
George. He never goes out when we have compa
ny, but lie never any more stays at home, when we
are alone.”
The parents startled as Mary paused, and their
hearts in a moment grew sad and anxious. They
had never thought of it before, but it was even so,
and where was he now ? It was ten o’clock.
“It is late,’’ said Mrs. Elton, and she went to the
window as though to listen.
“Yes, yes,” murmured her husband thoughtfully;
“I wonder where lie can be.”
Just then, a voice which though rather husky was
yet musical, was heard trolling a coarse song, and
footsteps sounded upon the alley pavement. They
all rose and joined their mother. Could that be
George ? George, whose taste in musical as well as
in all other matters, bordered upon fastidiousness ?
The surging back of the kitchen door proved that
it was so. They resumed their seats, and in silence
awaited him. Through the lower room and up
stairs he came, now stumbling, now stamping, now
whistling, now chuckling. As he came in, he burst
into a loud laugh, marched with a rowdy air tluo’
the chamber, rubbing his hands and exclaiming
“capital! go it, Jim, first rate ! let’s have it again!’’
He seemed he was indeed for the moment, uncon
scious of the presence of his family. They looked
on in mute amazement.
“Where have you been, George?” inquired Mary
after a while, and there was a touching pathos in
her voice. The brother did not notice it; he heard
the words; his brain was too misty to distinguish
the tone.
“Been !” I’ve been to the circus—and a fine time
I’ve had too, lia, ha, ha, Capital, go it old fellow, ha,
ha, ha. But it was confounded hot; my blood
burns yet;” and going to the window he raised
the sash and suffered the cold night air to fan his
flushed face. Taking a handful of snow, he held it
to his brow awhile, and as it began to melt, rubbed
it through his hair, till it hung in wet locks over his
damp forehead. His long walk in the wind cooled
somewhat his fevered blood; his ablution in the li
quified snow, and the conscious presence of his fam
ily aided in sobering him; for he was only in the
first stage of dissipation. Ilis stop was firmer, his
countenance more rational, when he closed the win
dow and again paced the chamber.
“I thought,” said Fanny to him, as she rose and
joined him in his walk. “I thought, George, you
never went to amusements without some of us
should accompany you. Pray, why did you go off’
to-night without taking us ?”
“Take you!” he answered in a sarcastic tone,
“take my sisters to the circus. A fine place indeed
for you.”
“If it was not a fit place for your sisters,” retorted
Fanny with considerable spirit, “I am quite sure it
was not a fit place for my brother George. George,”
she exclaimed passionately, grasping his hands and
v -tting them with her tears, promise, oh ! promise
-e, that you will never go there again, nor to any
place where you should be ashamed to see your sis
ters.”
“Promise!” —he looked around, and thrust her
rudely from his side; “no —I’ll not promise. I’ll go
there, and to places fouler far than that, before I’ll
spend my evenings in such a hole as this.”
There were tears, and sorrow, and anguish that
night in the Elton family. There were prayers, too,
deep, earnest, thrilling prayers, now quivering on
pale lips, now trembling down in the soul’s secret
places, now gushing up from stricken bosoms.
And one heart, torn and bleeding at every pore,
wrapped its raw wounds in sack-cloth and ashes,
and threw itself before the Mercy Seat. All the
long, dark hours, it cried “Forgive, forgive;” and
when the morning dawned, contrite upon the bo
som of the fallen son, it uttered still its prayer.
Heaven did forgive the boy too, and wiped away
the mother’s tears. But never from her memory
was that night’s experience effaced. Never again
did she hear her children wish for “ company every
day.”
Yellow Ink. —A little alium added to saffron
and water, makes a very good yellow ink, thicken
with gum.
Red Ink. —Take a strong deeoction of Brazil
wood, and a little gum water and some little alum
with a few drops of the chloride of tin.
|3oiilicnl.
Conscience and the Constitution.
This is the tile of a pamphlet, written by Professor Stew
art, of Andover Theological Seminary, one of the most learn
ed divines in the country. The pamphlet was elicited by
the great speech of Mr. Webster, and is a kind of review of
it, with reference to the Christian bearings of the questions
involved. The mode in which he handles the branch of the
subject relating to fugitive slaves, is most masterly. He com
ments upon a passage of scripture, which the Abolitionists
quote, in order to show the moral wrong of surrendering fu
gitive slaves, in the following style:— N. O. Bulletin.
“One more passage in the Mosaic code claims our particular
notice. This is in Deut. 23: 15, lfi, and runs thus: “ Thou
slialt not deliver unto his master the servant which is escaped
from his master unto thee. He shall dwell with thee, even
among you, in that place which ho shall choose in one of thy
gates, where it likctli him best, thou shalt not oppress him.”
The first inquiry of course is: Where does his master live?
Among the Hebrews, or among the foreigners ? The lan
guage of the passage fully developes this, and answers the
question. He “ has escaped from his master unto the He
brews (the next says— thee i. e. Israel; he shall dwell with
thee , among you—in one of thy gates.” Os course, then
he is an immigrant and did not dwell among them before his
| flight. If lie had been a Hebrew servant belonging to a He
brew, the whole face of the thing would be changed. Resto
j ration or restitution, if we may judge by the tenor of other
i property laws among the Hebrews, would have surely been
! enjoined. 13ut be that as it may, the language of the text
puts it beyond a doubt that the servant is a foreigner, and
has fled from a heathen master. This entirely changes the
complexion of the case. The Hebrews were God’s chosen
people, and was the only nation on earth which worshipped
the only living and true God. On this ground, as they were
the living depository of the oracles of God, great preference
was given to them, and great caution exercised, to keep them
from all tangling alliances and connexion with the heathen.
In case a slave escaped from them and came to the Hebrews,
two things were taken into consideration, according to the
views of the Jewish legislator. The lirst was, that the treat
ment of slaves among the heathen was far more severe and
rigorous, than it could lawfully be under the Mosaic law. The
heathen master possessed the power of life and death, of
scourging or imprisoning, or putting to excessive toil, even to
any extent that he pleased. Not so among the Hebrews.
Humanity pleaded for the protection of the fugitive. The
second and luost important consideration was, that only
among the Hebrews could the fugitive slave come to the
knowledge and worship of the only living and true God.
The clause which says : “ Thou shalt not oppress him,” of
course means, that he shall be denied none of the privileges
of a resident in the land, and that he shall not be subjected to
peculiar taxation or labor. The verse's before us do not say,
that such a refugee servant shall be circumcised; but the ad
mission of him to the privileges of a freeman implies this.
The servants of Hebrews, whether of domestic or foreign ori
gin, were all to be circumcised, Gen .*l7 : 12—15. Os course
the admitted denizen, in the present case, would be required
to comply with such an injunction. By the rite in question,
he became incorporated into the Jewish theoeratical common
wealth, and therefore entitled to, as even bond men were to
all its religious privileges. Moses, therefore, would not suffer
him to be forced back into the darkness cf heathenism, nor
allow* that he should be delivered up to an enraged heathen
master. Was he not in the right.
But if we npw put the other case, viz., that of escape from a
Hebrew master, who claimed and enjoyed Hebrew rights,
is not the case greatly changed ? Who could take from him
the property which the Mosaic law gave him a right to
hold ? Neither the bondman himself nor the neigbor of his
master to whom the fugitive might come. Reclamation of
him could be lawfully made, and therefore must be enforced.
With this view of the matter before us, how* can we appeal
to the passage in question, to justify, yea, even to urge, the
retention of fugitive bond men in our own country ? We arc
one nation—-one so called Christian nation. Christianity is a
national religion among us. I do not moan that all men are
real Christians, or that Christianity is established by law; but
I mean, that immeasurably the greatest part of our population
North and South, profess to respect Christianity, and appeal
to its precepts as a test of morals, and as furnishing us w-ith
the rules of life. What State in the Union does not at least
tacitly admit Christianity to hold such a place ?
When a fugitive bond man, comes to us of the North from
a master at the South, in what relation do we of the North
stand to the Southern master ? Are our fellow citizens and
brethren of the South, to be accounted as heathen in our sight?
No, this will never do. I know not what the proportion of
real Christians in the South may be, compared with those of
the North ; but this I do know’ from personal observation
made at the South, to some extent, ard from a considerable
acquaintance with the people of the South, that there are
among them many warm hearts and hands in the cause of
true Christianity. There is no State where such people may
not be found, and many of them too. A bondman fleeing
from them to us, is a case of just the same kind as would have
been presented among the Hebrews, if a Hebrew bondman
had fled from the tribe of Judali to that of Benjamin. We
do not send back the refugee from the South to a heathen na
tion or tribe. There is many a Christian master there, and
many, too, who deal w’ith their servants as immortal beings.
It may be, that the fugitive lias left a severe and cruel master,
who will wreak his vengeance upon him for escaping. And
it may be, also, that if the fugitive takes up his abode here, he
will find those who will maltreat him. Crimes of this sort
liave not as yet vanished from the North. But be the mas
ter as he may, since we of the North are only other tribes of
the same great commonwealth, we cannot sit in judgment on
cruel masters belonging to different tribes from our own, and
having by compact, a separate and independent jurisdiction
in respeot to all matters of justice between man and man, with
which no stranger can on any pretence whatever inter
meddle.
We pity the restored fugitive, and have reason enough to
pity him, when he is sent back to be delivered into the hands
of enraged cruelty. But if he goes back to a lenient and a
Christian master, the matter is less grevious. The responsi
bility, however, for the bad treatment of the slave, rests not in
the least degree upon us of the North. The Mosaio law does
not authorize us to reject the claims of our fellow countrymen
and citizens, for strayed or stolen property-—property author
ized and guarantied as such by Southern States to their respec
tive citizens. These States are not heathen. We have ac
knowledged them as brethren and fellow citizens of the
great community. A fugitive from them is not a fugitive
from the idolatrous and polytheistic people. And even it the
Bible had neither said nor implied anything in relation to the
matter, the solemn compact which we have made, betore
heaven and earth, to deliver up fugitives when they are men
held to service in the State from whioh they fled, is enough to
settle the question of legal right on the part of the master,
whatever we may think of his claim wheu viewed in the light
of Christianity.—But of this, more in the sequel.
In the meantime, I cannot quit this topic, without adding a
few remarks on the assumption, that every slaveholder must
be denied the title of a Christian, and be denied the regard
which is due to a Christian brother. It is not too much to say,
that no man, in his sober senses, can believe or say, that there
are no Christians in the South, who arc owners of slaves.
There are thousands of masters and mistresses, of exemplar)’
Christian lives and conversation. There are thousands, more
over, who have never been taught to doubt, and never have
doubted, the lawfulness of slavery. Tlwy have felt that they
violated no sacred obligation in holding slave*, provided they
should treat them in a Christian manner. Whether they
have neglected their duty in putting by all discussion of the
subject, and all serious examination into it, is another and
a dift'erent question. I suppose there are Christians elsewhere
besides in the South, who neglect some of their duties, and
who are not absolutely perfect. If perfection is the only pro
per test of a Christian state, I fear that we of the North might
have our title to such a name called in question. But I will
say all that I intend now to say on this subject, by adverting to
two notable cases, which may at once serve to illustrate and
to justify my assertions.
The celebrated and eminently pious John N ewton, of Lon
don, was master of a slave ship that went to Africa several
times under his command. He tells us, that until the quee
tion was raised in England, by Wiiberforce and others, ho
never once had a doubt in his mind of the lawfulness and pro
priety of the G uinea trade. To come nearer home; who does
not know that the immortal Edwards—immortal as much for
his great piety as for his intellectual powers—left behind him
in manuscript an essay on the slave trade (probably still ex
tant,) in which he defended the trade with all his ability, oil
the same ground that Moses required the fugitive heathen
slave to be detained, viz., on the ground that it would bring
the perishing heathen within the reach of Christian influence ?
That his logic in this ease would not well compare with that
in some of his printed treatises. lam fully satisfied. But the
simple and proper question is: Did he intend any wrong? Had
he any motives of self-interest which led him to argue as he
did concerning the slave-trade? Unhesitatingly \ve answer
both questions in the negative. May it not be, then, that
there are some Christians in the South, who are in the same
plight in which Newton and lie were l For one, I say em
phatically—T es.
When will the time come, in which men sliall cease to pro
nounce sweeping judgments of condemnation on their fellow
men, without examining into their ease and giving them a
lair and impartial hearing ? I earnestly hope the daybreak is
approaching, although at present it seems to be receding.
But—it is sometimes darkest just before day.
Tlius far I have treated only of Hebrew, made slaves
among Hebrews, with the exception of one peculiar case of a
foreign refugee. I now come, after exhibiting the full state of
things among the Jews in respect to slaves of Hebrew origin,
and the many modifications which Moses inserted in his laws
to mollify the hardships and rigors of their condition 5 to con
sider the condition of slaves, who were of heathen origin.
Here the abettors of the proposition, that all slavery is a
malum in se, and is to be ranked with murder and robbery,
will find matter of serious difficulty. With not a few of the
high toned Abolitionists, I fear I shall bring Moses into much
discredit, by quoting his enactment. But here it is, and it
would not become me to offer an apology for him. Let him’
speak for himself.
Lev. 23: 45. Both thy bondmen and thy bondmaids
which thou shalt have she ?e of the heathen that are round
about you, of them shall ye buy bondmen and bondmaids.
(45) Moreover, of the children of the strangers that do so
jonrn among you, of them shall ye buy, and of their families
that are with you, which they begat hi your land 5 and they
shall be your possession. (46) And ye sliall take them as an
inheritance for your children after you, to inherit them for a
possession, they shall be your bondmen forever.”
What now have we here ? Simply and plainly, an unlimit
ed liberty to purchase— pot to steal—bondmen and bond
maids of the heathen around and out of Palestine, or of heath
en dwelling within it. But when Moses says: “Ye a hall’
buy bondmen and bondmaids,” lie is not to be understood as
giving command, but permission. Our translators have herb
made the future tense in Hebrew imperative, and as it were
jussive; but ever)-one acquainted with Hebrew knows, that
the future tense is very often permissive, i. e., it is used aa a
subjunctive mood. However, on the liberty to buy, there is
no restraint whatever. When bought, slaves arc declared to*
be heritable property, to belong to the children of ihe owners
“to inherit them for a possession.” Then follows the clause
which rivets fast the tenure of the property : “ They shall
be your bondmen forever.” The heathen bondmen are not
put on a level with them. The tenure of them is perpetual,
the tenure as of heritable property. “ The middle wall of
partition between Jews and Gentiles,” was not yet broken
down, but just erected. The time for declaring that there
was one God and Father of the Jews and Gentiles, to whom
all stood in the same oommon relation, was yet far distant.-
There then stands the Mosaic statue, which was the perpet
ual laws of the Jews. There it stands, not to be erased by the
hand of the most zealous Abolitionist. He will probably think
very ill of Moses, and not be very courteous toward me for
venturing to quote him. However, if there is any blame here,
it falls on the great Jewish legislator himself, and noton me.
He, moreover, can afford to bear it.
In the name of ail that is called reasoning now, in morals
or religion, how is the ownership of slaves which heaven has
given express leave to purchase, to be deemed a crime of the
deepest dye, a malum in se, an offence to be classed with mur
der and treason ? Let those answer this question, who de
cide a priori what the Bible ought to speak, and then turn it
over in order to see how they can make it speak what they
wish. But there is no bending or twisting of Moses’ word*.
I here they are, so plain that “ he who runneth mav read.**
If Abolitionists are right in their proposition, then Moses is
greatly in the wrong. More than this ; then has the God of
the Hebrews sanctioned, with his express leave, the commis
sion of a crime as great as that which is forbidden in the sixth
or seventh cammandment. There is no retreat from this.
The position of the Abolitionists plainly taxes high Heaven
with misdemeanor—with encouragement to commit one
among the foulest of crimes.
M lu.t shall we say then ? Shall we consign Moses over to
reprobation ? Or are we to regard him as an ignoramus ?
One or the other, or both, follow from the reasoning and the
premises of heated Abolitionists. ’ ’
After exposing the relation of servants to their masters, id
the time when St. Pai l preached, the learned IWossor goes
on to say :
“ M luit then, on the whole ? Plainly this, viz.,
that servants are not to be anxious and uneasy and discon
tented, because they are servants. If they'ean easily and
peaceahly obtain their liberty, then they should accept tbe
boon. But they are forbidden to be fractious, and querulous,
and uneasy, merely because they are in bondage. It should
suffice that they are the Lord's freemen.
Certainly tins is not much like the advice or the conduct of
most of the Abolitionists among us. They excite slaves in
every possible way to change their condition, at all hazards and
in all relations. They set the whole country in motion to ac
complish this. Omnia , coelum , terra miscentur ! They pour
forth vituperation and contumely on every tnan who ventures
to admonish them of the sentiments of Paul. And if the great
apo6tie himself were to re-appear on the earth, and come now
into the midst of us, and preach the doctrine contained in his
Epistles, he would unquestionably incur the danger of being
mobbed ; at all events we should have a multitude of indig
nation meetings got up against him, like those which have re
cently appeared in the great metropolis of our country. Alas 1
holy and blessed apostle, how little do such men know or par
take of thy peaceful spirit.”
Prof. Stuart expends much space in the examination of Sen
ator Mason’s bill for tbe recovery of fugitive slaves. To some
of tbe features ot it, he opposes liis decided dissent, and yields
bis assent to the recommendations of the committee of thir
teen on that point. He disagrees with the legislature of Mae
saebusetts, as to their resolution that the ease of the aHedged
fugitive should be tried by jury, in the State where tbe claim
is made, and give: tbe reagent on which hie “WBjoo
NO. 14.
