is apt to lose his integrity; there is a Circean
influence there for Northern people; thousands of once good,
anti-slavery men now lie dead and buried as to their reputations here at
the North, in consequence of having to do with the seductive
slave-power; they would fill Bonaventura Cemetery, in Savannah; the
Spanish moss, swaying on the limbs of its trees, would be, in number,
fit signals of their subjection to what you call right views on the
subject of slavery.
Though I fear almost to hold converse with you, yet, conscious of my
innate love of liberty, I venture to do so. Bunker Hill is within twenty
miles of my home. When I go to that sacred memorial of liberty, I strive
to fortify my soul afresh against the slave-power. After hearing
favorable things said, in Boston, about the South, I can go to Faneuil
Hall, and there, the doors being carefully shut, walk enthusiastically
about the room, almost shouting, "Sam. Adams!" "James Otis!"
"Seventy-Six!" "Shade of Warren!" "No chains on the Bay State!"
"Massachusetts in the van!" "Give me liberty or give me death!" I can
enjoy the privilege of looking frequently on certain majestic figures in
our American Apocalypse, under the present vial,--but I need not name
them. I meet in our book-stores with "Lays of Freedom," never sung by
such as you. I see in the shop-windows the inspiring faces, in
medallion, of those masterpieces of human nature, "the champions of
freedom," our chief abolitionists;--and shall I, can I, ever succumb to
the slave-power, even though it approach me through the holy,
all-subduing charms of woman's influence? No! dear madam, ten thousand
times, No! "Slave-power!" to borrow Milton's figure when speaking of
Ithuriel and Satan, the word is as the touch of fire to powder, to our
brave anti-slavery souls. You have, perhaps, seen a bull stopping in the
street, pawing the ground, throwing the dust over him and covering
himself with a cloud of it, his nose close to the earth, and a low,
bellowing sound issuing from his nostrils. Your heart has died within
you at the sight. You have been made to feel how slight a defence is
fan, or sunshade, against such an antagonist, though you should make
them to fly suddenly open in his face. No enemy of his was in sight, so
far as you could perceive; you wondered what had excited his belligerent
spirit; but he saw at a very great distance that which you could not
see; he heard a voice you could not hear, giving occasi
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