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Anti-slavery bugle. (New-Lisbon, Ohio) 1845-1861, December 12, 1845, Image 4

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POETRY.
For the Bugle.
For the Bugle. THE MAN HUNTER.
BY T. WICKERSHAM.
Is there a being on tho earth moro foul
More worthy of extreme contempt and
scorn,
Of moral sense and virtue more forlorn,
Than men who will like hungry blood hounds,
prowl
Upon the trail of flying fugitives,
When e'er a southerner the watchword
gives?
Worn down with travel, watchfulness, and
fear,
Avoiding day, and wandering by night,
Shall h, the slave, when freedom's land is
near.
Be intercepted in his trembling flight
Bv Xorihern men who boast that they are
free
And speak great words for Right and Lib
ertyl
Shame th.it men rruiltv of this deed are found!
Shame that their feet pollute our Xorihern
ground.
From the "Texan Chain-Breaker."
OUR SONG.
Who says, the millions of tho free
Will humbly aid the plan
Which makes our nation's trade to be
The merchandise of man?
For shame! fling down that coward word,
Thou child of Bunker Hill,
And with the free old spirit gird
Tho poor dejected will.
Up! by thy fathers ashes swoar
To glorify their graves;
Hurl from your breast the fiend Despair,
For tyrunts and for slaves.
"Too late?" Old Time shall stop his car
If freemen but command,
Up-rising in-Qod's namo to bar
Dishonor from their land.
For-shameJ child of the blood-stained hill!
Dash down fraternal strife.
And then the freeman's peaceful quill
Shall savo a nation's life.
MISCELLANEOUS.
From 'The Subordinate.'
PROFESSION, NOT PRINCIPLE.
BY T. S. ARTHUR.
" Profession is not Piineiple." I learn
ed this years ago, and havo Aeon it verified
hundreds of times since. Who has not!
Neither is profession religion. How often,
too, have I proved this. The best men I ev
er knew, were those who made few profes
sions. The internals with them were pure
as well as the externals.
I take no pleasure in making the exposures
which follow, hut where truth may do good,
I never hesitate nhotit telling it. It is al
ways painful to perceive a deviation from pro
fession in those who make a show of relig
ion. Christianity has suffered more from the
irregularities ot its pretended friends, than
the assaults of its open enemies. There are
thousands who have taken upon themselves
no vows, who are purer in heart and more
upright in actions than many, very many who
press forward to the altar. This is a sad
truth.
A few doors from my residence, whena boy,
lived a Mr. T --.about maker. He
was a member of the Church, iind a
loud professor, Regularly every uiornii j
and evening he assembled his family for wor
ship, and in his privatemcetingsof tho Church
members, he prayed loudest and longest of
any. I often observed him during tho servi
ces of the Church on tho Sabbath, and was
forced to remark tho air of piety and devotion
which he exhibited. At first I was led to
believe him a good man, but a littlo intro
duction into the secrets of his business
transactions, as I grow older, convinced
me that ho mado religion a means of
securing worldly emolument and boner, rath
er than Heavenly riches and divine honors.
It was only necessary to ask bis apprentices
his character, to understand something of his
claims to religion. A really good man is
rarely, if ever, the subject of abuse by those
under him, but they spare not the pretender
to virtues which lie does not possess.
Mr. T ------ was one of those who pro
fess to consider Heavenly riches as infinite
ly more valuable than sordid gold, but who,
by all t'leir actions, illustrate the truth of the
remark with which we started, that "profes
sion is not principle, lie was not content
with working his apprentices hard, and keep
in? them poorly clad and poorly fed, but he
gained his penny wherever he could, no mat
ter who lost tho penny or to whom it most
belonged. 1 will give nn example of his
dealing in this latter respect.
A colored drayman had brought him a load
ef leather from a house far down town. . Af
ter the leather wag unloaded, the following
dialogue took place:
H Well, old fellow, (and the drayman wus
old at leact sixty) what's to pay"
Throe rips, sir.'
Here's a 'levy. I never pay but a 'levy
a load. You can't take me in."
Indeed, raassa, can't take less than three
dps. That's the reg'lur charge, and I always
gits it.
" Nonsense ! here, take your money, and
don't stand palavering there."
Can't, indued, massa. You knows that
aint enough.'
" You black nigger ! do you mean to say
that I want to cheat youl"
No, massa; but three Hps is the reg'Iar
charge for a load, and I can't take less, I
couldn't make a livin' at a 'levy.
" Well, I'm not going to stind fooling hero
with you. If ycu don't tnke tins, yuu'll gjt
nothing."
Cuu'l Uk it mij33. All or none, is my
rule. I wont cheat by asking too much, ana
wont be cheated.'
" Then you get none.
' Well, I can give you three fips if you are
sufferin'1' And the independent old follow
got on to his dray and drove off.
I was atjnding at the door at the time, and
witnessed the whole proceeding. The un
just man turned away as the dray rattled off,
but I could seo no compunction on his bard
A few days after I witnessed a similar
scene, which I will alsn describe. Another
drayman brought him a barrel of flour and a
key of butter from the wharf. As usual, tho
eloven-ponny piece was tendered.
" The price is ti.ree lips, massa;" said the
negro, smiling.
' Nonsense ! here, tike your money; think
I don't kmw the price?'
" Indeed, iudouble, massa! dat's too little."
Here, aint you going to take your money?
You'd better.'
" M issi, if I htd plenty of money and
what I'd call plenty nint much I wouldn't
care about a fip. But my old 'oman's been
sick now three months, and I've got five lit
tle children, und sometimes I can't hi.idly get
enough for 'em to eat. A fip would buy
a loaf of bread, and that would go a good
wavs."
' Here's your 'levy, it you aro going 10
take it. If vour wile is sick, that s no rea
son why you should bo an extortioner. If
. . I K... A l,o .l'
you are in want, ueg, wn vm..
The poor Negro said no more, but took the
little piece of money and went off. I wit
nessed this scene too. now my young noi
blood did boil.
On that same evening I heard him, at a
public prayer meeting in the ------ Church,
address the good and holy Lord, and with
vain repetitions, make a long prayer, as if he
were to bo heard for his much speaking, in
stead of for his pure heart and upright pur
pose. How can such men read the Word of
the Lord, ana then nope to lie receivea ncrc-
after into the Heavens, where love to tho
neighbor is puro and perfect?
Mr. T had five apprentices. Each
one of these be had taken from tho Alms
House, because, as bo S3id, parents and
friends were always troublesome to a master.
They wore a cowed, spiritless, and, if they
were to be believed, a half-starved set. Their
clothes were poor and dirty, and they were
ashamed to appear ut Church on the Sabbath
day, or to go into decent company. At meals,
they were allowanced in many articles, such
as butter, moat, &c, at breakfast and supper
times; and in bread at dinner fnne. A sin
gle slice of bread was all each received du
ring dinner. Potatoes wero very good.
The bovs were loud in their complaints out
of doors, but dared not say much within.
In so large a family as that ot Mr. 1
there was a good deal of sewing to do, and
oxtl of charity tho work was Uikcn from a
seamstress who Had sewed lor me lamny
some time, and given to a poor widow wo
man with several small children. Ostensi
bly only was this charity. Really, it was to
save a few more pennies. How could this
be? some one will ask. Let me sketch a lit
tle scene; premising that this poor woman's
husband was inst dead, and she left helpless
and friendless, with no apparont means of
support. Jfesides she was in very leeble
health. By accident Mr. T had heard
of her distressed situation, and at the sugges-
tion of the individual who named her case to
him, told his wife that he thought it would
be charity to give her some sewing.
" 1 think it would, indeed," says Mrs.
T
Our sewing costs a great deal,' responds
the careful husband, 'and in this thing wo
may benefit ourselves as well as do a deed of
charity. No doubt this poor woman is re.th
er an indifferent sewer in comparison to Miss
)(, and thenloro her work wnl not ot
course be worth so much. And she will, no
doubt, think one-half the price Miss R
gets a good one."
" .No doubt," chimes in the Irugal partner.
.Mrs. is sent for. After she is seat
ed, the following conversation takes place.
" Uan you do plain sewing!
' Yes, ma'am as well as most persons.'
" What is your price for fine shirts? ,'
' I have' nt set any price yet, but I will work
as low as any one.'
" But you know that to get work you will
have to do it a little lower than ordinary.
Pooplo don't like to change."
' Well, ma'am I am in want, and I will
work at almost any price for my children.'
"I suppose you will uiako fine shirts for a
quarter? "
' Yes, ma'am.'
" That's reasonable. Boys' common shirts
you'll not charge over eleven pence for? "
No, ma'am !'
" That's reasonable, and I'll do all I can
for you. It gives mo pleasure to help the
poor. Come down to-morrow and I'll have the
work reedy for you." The widow departed
" Well, wife," said Mr. T , bustling
in when he saw tho woman depart "at what
price will 6he work?"
''At just hall what Miss U charges!'
" Well, that's something like. It gives
mo pleasure to befriend any one who is wil
ling to work at a reasonable price. Why,
this will save us almost a dollar a week the
year round."
' Yes it will so; and if I keep her at it, or
some one else at the same price for a year,
you'll kit iu have a fifty dcllar bhawl, wont
von? '
" Yes, if yon wan't it." '
' Well, I'll do my best. It's shameful
what some of thoso seamstresses da charge !'
It is often well to reverse a picture. Sup
pose we look at the other side of this.
Mrs. had always been delicate.
When a girl she could never sew long at a
time without getting a pain in her side. She
married a hard-working, industrious mechan
ic, whose trade was not very lucrative, yield
ing barely enough for support. Her health,
after her marriage, was but little improved,
and whnn with several small children she
was loft a widow, sho yielded, in her first
keen nnguiBh of bereavement to despair.
But mnthor cannot long tit in idleness when
h-r dear b.'.brs nra about her. Sho could
think of nu w..y of etiing a living for theai
but by her neodle, and as she was a neat sew-I
er, she hoped to get work, and earn food and
scanty clothing at least. Uut she could get
no work. No person knew her who wanted
sewing done. She applied to several, and
was still without the means of earning a dol
lar when her last one was spent. Just at this
sad moment, the fact of her destitution be
coming more known, Mrs. T sent for
her.
As she carried home her work, the day af
ter the interview, sho was glad at heart with
the thought that now there was a way of es
capo at least from starvation. But littlo more
her yearning heart could promise her. Boys'
shirts at twelve and a half cents wero her
first pieces of work. Two of these, by close
application, she managed to get done in
a day. Had they been msde perfertly
plain, she could have finished tlioiu earlier,
and hail time to irivo many necessary atten
tions to her children: Irit the last words of
Mrs. T had ro'ubcu her of th.U chance.
" You can stitch the cjllars Btid wrist-hands
of those, any how you can all'ord it, I sup
pose, they iron belter when that is done."
The simple and touching" Yes, ma'am !"
but in a sadder tone than usual, was the on
ly response.
Next morning she was tip early, though
her head ached badlv. and she was faint and
weak, from having sit so steadily through tho
whole of the proceeding day. Her children
wero all taken up, washes and aresseu; uer
rooms cleaned, a scanty meal oi niusn aim
milk prepared for the little ones, and a cup
of te-i for herself. Her own stomach refused
the food of which her children partook with
k'en appetites, anil she could only swallow
a few moulhfuls of drv. stale bread.
It was near ten o doc when she. got fairly
down to work, her head still aching so
lensr-Iv as almost to blind her. Somehow or
other she could not get on fast, rnd it was
long past tho usual dinner hour before sho
had fini -bed the first garment. Tho children
were impatient for their meal, and sho had to
make great haste in preparing it, as well for
their satisfaction as to gun tune,
" Mother, we're getting most tired of mush
and milk," Slid one of the little ones. "Yon
don't have all the good things now you used
to. ao pics, nor puddings, nor meal.
Never mind, dear, we'll have some nice
corn-cakes for supper.'
" You II havo supper soon, won t you,
mother! said another little one coaxingly
her thoughts busy with the nice corn-cakes
' And sha'nt wn have molasses on thein?'
said another, pushingaway her bowl of mush
and mine.
" No, dear, not to night; but to-morrow
we II havo some.
Why not to-night, mother? I want some
to-night.'
" Mother has no money to buy it with
night, but to morrow sho will have some,"
said the mother.
' O, wo 11 have lasses to-morrow lor our
ci.kts,' cried out a little girl who could just
speak plainly, clapping her hands in great
glee,
After dinnerMrs. worked hard, nd
in much bodily pain, to finish the other shirt,
in which the last stitch was taken at nine o
clock nt night.
Soon after breakfast the next day she took
the four shirts homo to Mrs. T , her
thoughts mostly occupied with tho comfort
able food sho was to buy for her children
with the half dollar she had earned. For it
was a sad truth that she had laid out her last
cent.
After examining every seam, every hem,
and every line of stitching, Mrs. T ex
pressed her approbation ot the work, and
handed the poor widow a couple of fine shirts
to make for Mr. T , and a calico dress
for herself. She did not offer to pay her for
the work sho had done. After lingering a
few moments, Mrs. ventured to hint
that she would like to have a part of what
she had earned.
" Oh, dear ! I never pay a seamstress un
til her bill amounts to five dollars. It is so
troublesome to keep account of small sums.
When you have made five dollars I will pay
you."
Mrs. retired, but with a hoert that
seemed like lead in her bosom. When
shall I earn five dellars? Not for a whole
month at this rate," were the words that form
ed themselves in her thoughts.
"'vVe shall have thn molasses now, moth
er, shan't we? " said two or three glad little
voices, as she entered her home.
For a few moments she knew not what an
swer to make. Then gathering thein all a
bout her, she explained to thorn, as well as
she could make them understand, that the la
dy for whom sha had made the work did not
pay her, and she was afraid it would be a
good while before she would; and that until
she was pai I, she could not get them any
thing better than whi't they hld.
Tho little things all stole silently and with
out a murmur away, and the mother again
sat down to her work. A tear would often
gather in her eye as she looked up from the
bright needle glistening in her fingers, and
noted the sadness and disappointment pictur
ed in thuir young faces. From this state of
gloomy feeling she was roused by a knock
at the door, and a pleasant looking hidy, sume-
I.... :i j i 11
wirti gaiiy aresseu, came in wiui u suiaii
bundle in net hand.
She introduced herself bv saying that she
had just (seen some very neat'.y-inado shirts
ai .urs. i i -s and that she was so wen
pleased with the work that she had inquired
4 for the maker. " And now having found
you," she said, "I want vou to make and fit
this calico dress forme, if you do such work."
' I shall be triad to do it for vou.'said she.
encouraged by the kind and feeling manner
ol the lady.
" And what will vou charge? "
Mrs. - hesitated a moment, and then
said
' Mrs T gives me a quarter of a dol
lar!' There was a bright spot for a moment on the
ciieens oi mo la'iy.
"Then I will give you three," said bug
with warmth.
N'rs. burst into tears; sho could not
help it.
"Aro you in need " inquired the strange
lady, hesitatingly, but with an air of kind
ness that could not be mistaken.
For a moment the widow paused, but the
sight of her children conquered the rising
emotion of pride.
nave nothing hut a little corn meal tn
the house, and have nn money.'
A tear glistened in the Rtranger'a eye her
breast heaved with a strong emotion. Then
again all was still.
" I will pay you for this dress beforehand,
then; and as "I want it done very nice, I will
pay you a dollar for making it. Can I have
it day after to-morrow? "
Certainly, ma'am, to-morrow evening; if
you want it.'
1 ho dollar was paid down, and tho nnirel
of merry dep Tied. Moro than ono heart was
undo glad that morning.
Now let us pay a visit to Mrs. T
After the widow had departed, a lady ac
quaintance dropped in, who mide no profes
sion r.f religion, and who wu somewhat fjiid
of dress. Among other subjects of conversa
tion, the neatness of the work on tho coarse
shirts was talked over, and the lady learned
the residence of the seamstress, and also that
sho was very poor. After her departure, Mr.
1 same in Irom the shop, when the
following dialogue to:ik place:
"W ell, wile, how did Mrs. do her
work?"
" Very well. indeed; hut what do you think?
she wanted me to pay 'ior a part of tho price
of nuking four shirts."
" I.J it possili'e! That's just the way these
poor people always do. They spend a quar
ter as last as it is e.irned, nd so never get
any thing ahead. You did not give it to
her!"
41 No, indsed ! I told her to wait until it
amounted to five dollars, and then it would
do her some good."
"And wh.t did she say to that?"
"Oh, nothing, only she pretended to look
very melancholy, as trough she were in a
starving condition. But I understand all
tiicse things.
"Trick and hypocrisy and whining always
seem to go with poverty. Was that the gaudy
butterfly, Mrs. L. who just went out!"
"Yes; I do think I have never known a
moro worldiy-inind.;d person than .Mrs. L
in my life. All she thinks about i ; dress and
company. She never seems to reflect that
she has a soul to save."
"Or to be lost, which it certainly will bo
if she does not lay asid'i the vanities of this
world. I suppose she never said a prayer
in her life."
"Not she; if you were to talk to her of
praying, she would smile in your face."
"A sad condition, indeed! How the world
lieth in tho wicked one. The prince, of this
world bath many children, and sho is one of
them."
And yot,' continued the wife, ' she seems
utterly insensihlo to her sad condition, and al
ways changes the suhjoct when I mention it
to her.'
"Of course. And sho will go on thus,
hardening her heart and stifiening her neck,
uutil she falls into the gulf of eternal ruin.
It is sad to think on."
By eating the bread of carefuilness, by
grinding the poor, and by over-working his
apprentices, Mr. T gradually became the
owner of property. Of course ho made a
hard landlord. He owned two or three stores,
which were every now and then changing
tenants for lew could stand Ins grinding in
justice. .
Une ot lapse stores had been vacant tor
some time, when a young man, just going
into business, and who knew nothing of his
character, rented it for three hundred and fif
ty dollars per ann nn. That was tho highest
limit he hid Set himself in disclose calcula
tion of profit. Ho was a poor, but enterpris-
ng young man, and had been assisted into
business by a few confiding and firm friends.
Not a single alteration or repair would
T ------put upon the house. After going
to about two hundred dollars' expense in fit
ting up the store, the young man opened tor
business. At the end of the first year, ho
found that his profits had been very fair; but
there were many remnants and pieces of un
saleable goods on hand which had been
paid for. These curtailed his active capi
tal. Cheerful in prospect of his next year's
liusines.i, and resolved to use even more ac
tivity and economy, he put his last quarter's
rent in his pocket, and called on Mr. l' -----.
After the money had been taken, and the rc
cipt given, Mr. T------ inquired after his
business; the young man spoKe of it as in
creasing, and said that he had done s well
as he had expected.
" You have no thought of moving, I sup
pose?"
' Oh, no; the stand is a good one, and
pleases me.'
"Ahem! Ahem! I've been thinking, for
some time that your rent was too low. A
good stand like yours is worth a good deal
more money,"
'Three hundred and fifty is as much as I
can afford to pay, and as much as any of my
neighbors pay.
" Your neighbors pay too little, then. I
must have four hundred and fifty dollais for
my store for the next year."
' Four hundred and fifty'.' exclaimed the
young man, ' I cannot afford to pay that. Be
sides, it is worth no more than I now pay.'
" There uio many who can and will p iy
four hundred and fifty I must get the most
profitable tenants I can."
' But I have been to at least two hundled
dollars' expense.'
That is your own lookout, young man, not
mine."
So it is, and I was a fool to mention it!
I see that I am yet a learner bore.'
Mr. !' only smiled.
" Will you not take four hundred?"
' Not one cent less than four hundred and
fifty.'
The young man could do but one of two
things: Temove or pay the high rent. Fear
ing to risk another stand, and knowing that a
clnne would he more loss to him than a hun
dred doll.iis, he relucianlly entnrcd into con
tract to pay four burdred ai d fifty.
Another year p-'sset!, Bin! Mr. 1'.-.... ad
ded fifty dollars more rout on tiie house.
This wus boruo Willi also, for it was better
ili!?.liLL
than to move. But when fifty additional
were demanded, under the impression that th
tenant would consider it more than a loss of
fifty dollars to move, he could stind it no
longer, and sought another storo. The stor
did not prove to be a good stand, which so
troubled the young man's mind that, from
neglecting his business, he became unsteady,
and in the cud failed.
With Mr. T. it was a common prac
tice to raise on all of his tenants a sum just
large enough to make thein feci that it was
better to pay it than move.
No ono who knows the writer will feel
disposed to accuse him of wishing to throw
disrespect upon religion. How could he bo
so false to himself as to wish to darken the
only true light that lighteneth every mm that
comcth into the world; which penetrates and
disperses the gloom of the grave? But he is
ever dispi sed to condemn and hold up to view
all pretenders to that which they do not po
ses One such man as Mr. T. does
more real harm in the world than a dozen
open reprobates.
And, alas! how many such there are.'
Who doesnotknow a Mr. or a Mrs. T. 1
In what religious associations are not those
to be found who are willing to have faith a-
lone, to trust in faith alone, and to esteem
the goods of this world as more valuable than
tho goods of charity. A purified, internal
love for the neighbor, a love that prompts to
good deeds combined with a calm depen
dence upon the Giver of every good and per
fect gift, is the only religion that will make
a man fit for Heaven.
Oettivo Pooh on Rich Land, and Rich
on poor Land. A clone observer of men and
things, says tho Ohio Cultivator, told us the
following little histo-y, which we hope will
plow very deeply into' the attention of all whs
plow very shallow in their soils:
Two brothers settled together in coun
ty. One of them on a cold, ugly, clay soil,
covered with black jack cak, not one of which
was large enough to make a half dozen rails.
This man would never drive any but large,
powerful Canadian horses, some seventeen
hands high. He always put three horses to
a large plow, and plunged it in some ten inch
es deep. This deep plowing he invariably
practiced, and cultivated thoroughly after
wards. He raised his seventy bushels of
corn to the acre.
This man had a brother about six miles oGT
settled on a rich Wrhito River bottom land
farm, and, while black-jack clay soil yield
ed seventy bushels to the acre this fine bot
tom land would not average fifty. One broth
er was steadily growing rich on poor land,
and tho other steadily growing poor on rich
land.
One day the bottom land brother camo
down to see tho black-jack oak farmer, and
they beg; n to talk about their crops and
farms, as farmers are very apt to do.
"How is it," said the first, "that you
manage on this poor soil to beat me in crops?'
The reply was: " I itwr my land."
That was it exactly. Some men have such
rich land that they wont work it; and they
never get a step beyond whpro they began.
They rely on the mil, not on labor, or skill,
or care. Some men expect their lands t
work; and some men expect to wo k th ir
land; and this is jut the difference between
a good and bad farmer.
Aristocracv When Gen. Foy, the cel
ebrated oritor, and foe of the Bonrbon dy
nasty, was asked in the French Chamber of
Deputies what he meant when he used ths
word aristocracy, ho replied:
"Aristocracy? I will tell yoa what I
mean. Aristocracy is the league, the condi
tion of those who wish to consume withonl
working, to occupy all the offices without be
ing qualified to fill" them, to carry off all tho
honors without deserving them that is aristocracy."
SSS'i J.J". .". . ' -w
AGENTS FOIl THE"BUGLE."
Ohio. New Harden David L. Galbreath.
CiiluiiiliiaiM Lot Holmes. Cool Sn-ings
T. Ell wood Vickers. Berlin Jacob H.
Barnes. Marlboro Dr. K. G. Thomas.
('tinScld John Wotmore. Lowclhilleht.
Butler. Poland Christopher Leo. Young
town J. S. Johnson. Xcw Lyme Hanni
bal Reeve. Jlltron Thomas P. Beach.
A cie Lillian George Garretson. Cincinnati
William Donaldson. East Fairfield John
Marsh. Sclma Thos. Swfyne. Sprinboro
Ira Thomas. Harveyihurg V. Nichol
son. Oakland Elizabeth Brook. Chugrin
Fall' S. Dickenson. Malta James Cope.
Columbus W. W. Pollard.
Indiana. ureenhoro Lewis Branson.
Marion John T. Morris. Economy In C.
Maulshy, Liberty Edwin Gardner. Win.
ehester Clarkson Picket. A'nighlstown.-m
Dr. If. L. Terrill. Richmond Josoph Ad
dleman. Pennsylvania. Fa'.lston Joseph B. Coals
.In 1 1 Slavery Public at ion$
just received and bus now for sale at her
boarding house, Sarah Galbreath 's, west sad
of High st.
THE CONSTITUTION A PRO-SLAV
ERY COMPACT, or selsctions rao
the Madison Papers.
THE BROTHERHOOD OF THIEVES,
OR A TRUC PICTURC OP THE AMSRJ0A5
Church and Clirov, by S. S. Foster.
COME OUTERISM, or thb dltf or se
cession FROM A corrupt OHunea, by Wa.
Goodell.
THE AMERICAN CHURCHS nre BUL
WARKS OF AMERICAN SLAVERY,
by James G. Birnoy,
"THE OFFERING,"
"THE DISUN10NIST," by Wendell PhU-
"ARCHY MOORE" by Richard R. HIU
dreth.
"VOICES OF THE TRUE HEARTED'
From No. 1 to C inclusive.
PORTRAIT OF LUCRHTIA MOTT.
CHANNIN'G'S LAST ADDItKSS.
NARRATIVE OF THE LIFtu OF FRED
ERICK DOUGLS.
'CAR ICON'S POEMS."

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