re country, east, west, north and south. Men
are everywhere, (with a few exceptions,) the world over, utterly
devoid of all parental affections for their illegitimate children; and
the Southern man, no doubt, has fully as much concern about his
mulatto bastards as the Northern man has about his white bastards.
What is the Southern man to do with his brood of mulatto children?
Suppose he liberates them, their condition is but little improved
thereby, unless he sends them out of the country. It is, however,
clearly his duty to educate and manumit such children; but what is the
duty of the Northern man surrounded by a score of his illegitimate
progeny? The condition of the children of the white concubines of the
North are not a whit better, than that of the colored concubines of
the South; and the Northern man who suffers his children to become the
victims of poverty and vice--to sink into the very lowest depths of
degradation!--hopelessly, irretrievably lost, is no better than the
Southern man who suffers his mulatto children to be sold. One thing is
clear; the Northerner can do much more to ameliorate the condition of
his unfortunate offspring than the Southerner; and for this reason, he
is probably the worst man of the two.

CHAPTER I.

While I was preparing the following work for the press, a friend
called on me, and with apparent solicitude, inquired, "Which side of
the question are you on, Sir?" I answered him, that I was on the side
of truth, or at least, that I wished to be found on that side. Calling
at a book-store, I purchased a work on slavery, returned immediately
to my room, and was anxiously looking over its pages; a friend tapped
at my door, "Come in, Sir; take a seat." He had scarcely seated
himself, before he inquired, "What book are you reading, Sir?" A work
on slavery, was my answer. "Which side of the question is it on?" It
was but a short time before I purchased two other volumes on the same
subject, and laid them on my table. A gentleman called on business,
and observing the books, inquired what kind of books they were? I
laughingly answered that they were novels. "Why," replied he, "I
thought you did not read novels." I remarked (in substance), that they
were novels on the subject of slavery, and that I had been for some
time engaged in an investigation of the subject, and that it had
produced in my mind a desire to consult some writers on slavery; and
it appeared, that recent writers, pre