ated hundred-fold
possessions, not to be valued in the money-market; has pedigrees,
libraries, law-codes; has memories and hopes, even for this Earth,
that reach over thousands of years. Lifelong marriage-contracts: how
much preferable were year-long or month-long--to the nomad or ape!

Month-long contracts please me little, in any province where there can
by possibility be found virtue enough for more. Month-long contracts
do not answer well even with your house-servants; the liberty on both
sides to change every month is growing very apelike, nomadic;--and I
hear philosophers predict that it will alter, or that strange results
will follow: that wise men, pestered with nomads, with unattached
ever-shifting spies and enemies rather than friends and servants, will
gradually, weighing substance against semblance, with indignation,
dismiss such, down almost to the very shoeblack, and say, "Begone; I
will serve myself rather, and have peace!" Gurth was hired for life to
Cedric, and Cedric to Gurth. O Anti-Slavery Convention, loud-sounding
long-eared Exeter-Hall--But in thee too is a kind of instinct towards
justice, and I will complain of nothing. Only black Quashee over the
seas being once sufficiently attended to, wilt thou not perhaps open
thy dull sodden eyes to the 'sixty-thousand valets in London itself
who are yearly dismissed to the streets, to be what they can, when the
season ends;'--or to the hunger-stricken, pallid, _yellow_-coloured
'Free Labourers' in Lancashire, Yorkshire, Buckinghamshire, and all
other shires! These Yellow-coloured, for the present, absorb all my
sympathies: if I had a Twenty Millions, with Model-Farms and Niger
Expeditions, it is to these that I would give it! Quashee has already
victuals, clothing; Quashee is not dying of such despair as the
yellow-coloured pale man's. Quashee, it must be owned, is hitherto a
kind of blockhead. The Haiti Duke of Marmalade, educated now for
almost half a century, seems to have next to no sense in him. Why, in
one of those Lancashire Weavers, dying of hunger, there is more
thought and heart, a greater arithmetical amount of misery and
desperation, than in whole gangs of Quashees. It must be owned, thy
eyes are of the sodden sort; and with thy emancipations, and thy
twenty-millionings and long-eared clamourings, thou, like Robespierre
with his pasteboard _Etre Supreme_, threatenest to become a bore to
us: _Avec ton Etre Supreme tu commences m'embeter!_--