or the slave; and in his work he gratifies all the
strongest instincts of his nature, more completely than even the
grossest sensualist can gratify _his_, by unlimited indulgence.

Gerritt Smith, too. Suppose he was compelled to hoard his princely
fortune, or spend it as most others do! O dear! what a dyspeptic we
should have in six months; and all the hydropathic institutes in the
country could never keep him alive five years.

John P. Hale would soon be done with his rotund person and jovial
face, if he could no longer send the sharp arrows of his wit and
sarcasm into the consciences of his human-whipping neighbors.

It is a necessity of all great nations to hate meanness, and nothing
under God's heaven ever was so mean as American slavery. Think of it.
_Men_ who swagger around with pistols and bowie-knifes to avenge their
insulted honor, if any one should question it,--imagine one turning up
his sleeves to horsewhip an old woman for burning his steak, or
pocketing her wages, earned at the wash-tub!

No one with a soul above that of a pig-louse, could help loathing the
system, the instant he saw it in its native meanness. Then, in order
to keep his own self-respect,--to gratify the love of the good and
true in his own soul, he _must_ express that loathing.

No disinterestedness about doing right, for nobody can be so much
interested in the act as the doer of it.

Wrong-doing is the only possible self-abnegation, of which the whole
range of thought admits.

All the humiliation and agony of the Saviour himself, were necessary
to himself. Nothing less could have expressed the infinite love of the
Divine nature; and in working out a most perfect righteousness for
those he loved, he also wrought out a most perfect happiness for
himself.

The eternal law of God links the happiness of all the creatures made
in His image in an electric chain, united in the Divine love; and He,
who has "a fellow-feeling for our infirmities," has given us a
fellow-feeling with the sufferings of each other. So that no soul in
which the Divine image is not totally obscured, can know of the misery
of another, without a sympathetic throb of sorrow.

The true heart in Maine _cannot_ know that the slave-mother in Georgia
is weeping for her children, torn from her arms by avarice, without
feeling her anguish palpitating in its inmost core.

It is the pulsations of the sympathetic heart which stretches out the
hand to interfere between her