ny of you think freedom is to be
dealt out in proportion to the whiteness of the skin. If
Mason's bill passes, I might have some miserable postmaster
from Texas or the District of Columbia, some purchased agent
of Messrs. Bruin & Hill, the great slave-dealers of the
Capital, have him here in Boston, take Ellen Craft before
the caitiff, and on his decision hurry her off to bondage as
cheerless, as hopeless, and as irremediable as the grave!

"Let me interest you in a scene which might happen. Suppose
a poor fugitive, wrongfully held as a slave--let it be Ellen
Craft--has escaped from Savannah in some northern ship. No
one knows of her presence on board; she has lain with the
cargo in the hold of the vessel. Harder things have
happened. Men have journeyed hundreds of miles bent double
in a box half the size of a coffin, journeying towards
freedom. Suppose the ship comes up to Long Wharf, at the
foot of State Street. Bulk is broken to remove the cargo;
the woman escapes, emaciated with hunger, feeble from long
confinement in a ship's hold, sick with the tossing of the
heedless sea, and still further etiolated and blanched with
the mingling emotions of hope and fear. She escapes to land.
But her pursuer, more remorseless than the sea, has been
here beforehand; laid his case before the official he has
brought with him, or purchased here, and claims his slave.
She runs for her life, fear adding wings. Imagine the
scene--the flight, the hot pursuit through State Street,
Merchants' Row--your magistrates in hot pursuit. To make the
irony of nature still more complete, let us suppose this
shall take place on some of the memorable days in the
history of America--on the 19th of April, when our fathers
first laid down their lives 'in the sacred cause of God and
their country;' on the 17th of June, the 22d of December, or
on any of the sacramental days in the long sad history of
our struggle for our own freedom! Suppose the weary fugitive
takes refuge in Faneuil Hall, and here, in the old Cradle of
Liberty, in the midst of its associations, under the eye of
Samuel Adams, the bloodhounds seize their prey! Imagine Mr.
Webster and Mr. Winthrop looking on, cheering the
slave-hunter, intercepting the fugitive fleeing for her
life. Would not tha