« PreviousContinue »
Fer I ollers hev strove (at least thet's my impres
Sez John C. Calhoun, sez he ;-
“ The perfection o' bliss
56 Slavery's a thing thet depends on complexion,
Sez Mister Hannegan,
Afore. he began agin, “ Thet exception is quite oppertoon,” sez he. “Gen’nle Cass, Sir, you needn't be twitchin' your
Sez Mister Jarnagin,
They wunt hev to larn agin, They all on 'em know the old toon,” sez he. “ The slavery question aint no ways bewilderin'. North an' South hev one intrest, it's plain to a
glance; No’thern men, like us patriarchs, don't sell their
Sez Atherton here,
“ This is gittin' severe,
“ It'll break up the Union, this talk about freedom, An' your fact'ry gals (soon ez we split) 'll make
head, An' gittin' some Miss chief or other to lead 'em, 'll go to work raisin' promiscoous Ned,” Sez John C. Calhoun, sez he ;
Yes, the North,” sez Colquitt,
“ Ef we Southeners all quit, Would
go down like a busted balloon,” sez he.
“ Jest look wut is doin', wut annyky's brewin'
In the beautiful clime o' the olive an' vine, All the wise aristoxy is tumblin' to ruin, An’the sankylots drorin'an'drinkin' their wine," Sez John C. Calhoun, sez he ;
Yes," sez Johnson, “in France
They're beginnin' to dance Beelzebub's own rigadoon,” sez he. “ The South's safe enough, it don't feel a mite
skeery, Our slaves in their darkness an' dut air tu blest Not to welcome with proud hallylugers the ery Wen our eagle kicks yourn from the naytional Sez John C. Calhoun, sez he ;
“ 0,” sez Westcott o' Florida,
66 Wut treason is horrider Then our privileges tryin' to proon ?” sez he. “ It's 'coz they're so happy, thet, wen crazy sarpints
Stick their nose in our bizness, we git so darned
We think it's our dooty to give pooty sharp hints,
Ah," sez Dixon H. Lewis,
“ It perfectly true is Thet slavery 's airth's grettest boon,” sez he.
[It was said of old time, that riches have wings; and, though this be not applicable in a literal strictness to the wealth of our patriarchal brethren of the South, yet it is clear that their possessions have legs, and an unaccountable propensity for using them in a northerly direction. I marvel that the grand jury of Washington did not find a true bill against the North Star for aiding and abetting Drayton and Sayres. It would have been quite of a piece with the intelligence displayed by the South on other questions connected with slavery. I think that no ship of state was ever freighted with a more veritable Jonah than this same domestic institution of ours. Mephistopheles himself could not feign so bitterly, so satirically sad a sight as this of three millions of human beings crushed beyond help or hope by this one mighty argument,- Our fathers knew no better! Nevertheless, it is the unavoidable destiny of Jonahs to be cast overboard sooner or later. Or shall we try the experiment of hiding our Jonah in a safe place, that none may lay hands on him to make jetsam of him? Let us, then, with equal forethought and wisdom, lash ourselves to the anchor, and await, in pious confidence, the certain result. Perhaps our suspicious passenger is no Jonah after all, being black. For it is well known that a superintending Providence made a kind of sandwich of Ham and his descendants, to be devoured by the Caucasian race.
In God's name, let all, who hear nearer and nearer the
hungry moan of the storm and the growl of the breakers, speak out! But, alas ! we have no right to interfere. If a man pluck an apple of mine, he shall be in danger of the justice; but if he steal my brother, I must be silent. Who says this? Our Constitution, consecrated by the callous consuetude of sixty years, and grasped in triumphant argument by the left hand of him whose right hand clutches the clotted slave-whip. Justice, venerable with the undethronable majesty of countless æons, says,SPEAK! The Past, wise with the sorrows and desolations of ages, from amid her shattered fanes and wolf-housing palaces, echoes,-SPEAK! Nature, through her thousand trumpets of freedom, her stars, her sunrises, her seas, her winds, her cataracts, her mountains blue with cloudy pines, blows jubilant encouragement, and cries,-SPEAK! From the soul's trembling abysses the still, small voice not vaguely murmurs,-SPEAK! But, alas! the Constitution and the Honorable Mr. Bagowind, M. C., say,- BE DUMB!
It occurs to me to suggest, as a topic of inquiry in this connection, whether, on that momentous occasion when the goats and the sheep shall be parted, the Constitution and the Honorable Mr. Bagowind, M. C., will be expected to take their places on the left as our hircine vicars.
Quid sum miser tunc dicturus ?
There is a point where toleration sinks into-sheer baseness and poltroonery. The toleration of the worst leads us to look on what is barely better as good enough, and to worship what is only moderately good. Woe to that man, or that nation, to whom mediocrity has become an ideal!
Has our experiment of self-government succeeded, if it barely manage to rub and go? Here, now, is a piece of barbarism which Christ and the nineteenth century say shall cease, and which Messrs. Smith, Brown, and others