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From the Free State Rally.
Wi'nl if no bcioon-bla.es
On di.-tint hill-lops Kliinc:
From 11 1 1 tliy ow n high places,
fiivc Heaven the light of thine!
Whit if, mitlirillu.l, untnoving,
The St atesman stands ap-.rt,
And comes no warm approving
I'rom Mammon's crowded mart!
Still let the I in I bo shaken.
By a summons of thine own;
I(y all save Truth f irsiken.
Why, stand with that nln !
Shrink not from Btrifn unetpnl.
With tlio best is always hope;
And ever in the sequel,
Clod holds tho ri git side up!
But, when with thino uniting,
Coino voices long anil loin!,
And far off hills are writing
Thy fire-words on the cloud;
When from Penobscot's fountain
A deep response is heard,
And across tho Western mountains
RolU back thy rallying word;
Shall thy line of battle falter,
Whitli its allies just in view?
Oh, by hearth and holy altar,
My Father-land, bo true!
Fling ahro-.id thy scrolls of Freedom,
Spaed thein onward far and fast;
Over bill and vallci', speed them,
Like the Sybil's on the blast!
Lo! tho Kmpiro State is shaking
The shackles from her hand;
With the rugged North is waking
Tho level sunset land!
On they come the free battalions,
East and West and .North, they come,
And the heart-heat of tho millions
Is tho beat of Freedom's drum.
'To the tyrant's plot no favor,
No hoed to place-fed knaves.
Bar and bolt the door forever
Against tho land of SLAVES!;
Hear it, Mother Earth, and hear it
The Heavens above us spread.
The land is roused its spirit
Was sleeping, but not dead!
Sweet is the pleasure.
Itself cannot spoil!
Is not true leisure
One with true toil?
Tiiou that wouldst taste it.
Still do thy best;
Use it, not waste it.
Else 'lis no rest.
Wouldst behold beauty
Near thot? all round?
Only hath duty
Such a sight found.
Rest is not quitting
The busy career;
Rest is the fitting
Of self to its sphere.
'Tis the brook's motion,
Clear without, stril'o,
Fleeing to ocean
After its life.
Nowhere hath knelt;
Heart never felt.
'Tis loving and serving
Tho highest and best!
'Tis onward! unswerving,
And that is true rest.
INSTINCT OF CHILDHOOD.
BY JOHN NEAL.
A beautiful child stood near a largo open
window. Tho window was completely over
shadowed by wilil grape and blossoming
nonoy-sucKle, and tho Uroopir.g branches ofn
prodigious elm the largest and handsomest
you ever saw. The child was leaning for
ward with half-open mouth and thoughtful
eyes, looking into the firmament of green
leaves forever at play, that appeared to over
hang tlio whole, neighborhood; and her loose
bright hair, as it broke away in the cheerful
morning wind, glittered like stray sunshine
among the branches anil blossoms.
Just underneath her feet, and almost with
in reach of her little hand, swung a largo and
prettily covered birdcage, all open tolliesljy!
The broad plentiful grape leaves lay upon it
ia heaps the morning wind blew pleasantly
through it, making the very music that birds
and children lovo best and tho delicate
branches of tho drooping elm swept over it
nnl the glow of blossoming herbage round
about fell with u sort of shadowy histro up
on tho basin of bright water, and the floor of
glittering sand within the cage.
" Well, if titer !" Raid the child: and then
she st.oped and pulled away the trailing
branches and looked into the cage; and then
her lips began to tremble, and iier soft ryes
filled with tears.
Within the cage was tho mother hird, flut
tering and whistling not cheerfully, but
mcu.iif illy and boating herself to" death
Jguin-it l!,9 delicate wires; and thren lin e
.its of i.i.-ds watching her, open mouthed,
i.i a nig ia ioiiow nr nom pcreli to perch,
i she 0ie(ied and shut Ik r golden wing,
i!;a sudden .flashes of Huushi.iu, and ilarfed
itliuruud thither, as if hunted by some in
isiblo thing or by a cat foraging in the
V-'1,'"' now ! l,,cro y ff a?'n ' yon
cltsa thing, you! Why what U tho maiterl
shoulJ be ashamed of myself! I should so!
Hav'nt we bought tho prettiest cage in the
world for von? Hav'nt von had enough to
and the best thai could bo bad for love or
money sponge cake loaf sugar, and all
sorts of seeds? Didn't father nut tip a nest
with his own hands; and havn't I watched
over you? you un grateful little thing! till the
ggs you put there had all turned to birds,
no bigger than grasshoppers, and so noisy
oh, you can't think ! .lust look nt tho beau
filial clear water there and the clean white
sand where do you think you could find
such water as that, or such u pretty glass disji,
or such beautiful bright sand, if He were to
take you at your word, and let you out, with
that littlo nest full of young ones, to shift for
The door opened, and a t ill benevolent
looking man stepped up to her side.
" Oil, father, I'm so glad you're come.
What do you think is the matter with poor
littlo bird v?"
The father looked down among the grass
and shrubbery, and up into the top branches,
and then into the cage the countenance) of
tho poor girl growing more ami more per
plexed and more sorrowful every moment.
" Well, father what is it 1 docs it see
"No my love, nothing to frighten her; but
where is the father bird!"
" He's in the other cage. He niada such
a to-do when the birds began to chippcrthis
morning, tint I was obliged to let him out;
and brother Hobby, ho frightened him into
the cage and carried him oil."
" Was that right, my love 1"
" Why not, father ? He would'nt be quiet
you know; and what was 1 to do I
" Hut, M ggy, dear, these little birds may
want their father to help to feed them; the
poor mother hird may want him to take care
of them, or sing to her?
" Or, perhaps, to show them how to fly,
" Yes, dear. And to separato them just
now how would you like to have me car
ried otf, and put into another house, leaving
no one at homo but your mother to watch
over you and the rest ot my little birds?"
Tho child crew more thoughtful. Sue look
ed up into her father's face, and appeared as
li more than halt disposed, to ask a question
which might be little out of place; but she
forbore, and alter musing a few moments,
went back to the original subject :
" Hut Hither, what can bo the matter with
the poor thing? you sue how she is flying
about, and the little ones trying to follow her,
and tumbling upon their noses, and toddling
about as if they were tipsy, and could'nt see
"fain afr;.id sha is getting discontented."
" Discontented ! How can that be, father?
Ilas'nt she her little onesabout her, and eve
ry tiling on earth sho can wish, and then,
you know, sho never used to ba so before."
" When her mate was with her, perhaps
" Yes, lather; and yet now I think of it,
the moment these little witches began to
peep-peep, and tumble about so funny, tho
father and mother began to fly about in
the cage, as if they were crazy. What can
bo the reason! The water, you see, is cool
and clear; the sand bright; they are nut in tho
open air, with all tho gr,;en loives blowiwr
about litem; their cage has been 8iv.u;ed with
soap anil sand; the fount lin filled; and tlm
seed box and and 1 declare I cannot think
what alls thein. "
'.My love, may it not bo the very fhinfs
you speak of! Things which you think ought
to make tlicm happy, are tho very cause of all
their trouble, you see. The father and moth
er are separated. How can they teach their
young to lly in that cage! How teach them
to provide lor themselves!
But father dear father!" laving her little
hand on the spring of tho cage door, 'dear
lalner! would you.-
'And why not, my dear child?" and the
lather s eyes tilled with tears, and ho stooped
down and kissed the bright face upturned to
ins, and glowing as il illuminated with :n
ward sunshine. "(7iy no?"
"I was only thinking, father, if I should
let them out, who will toed them.'"
"W ho feeds the young ravens, dear? Who
Iceds the ton thousand little birds that aro fly
..i,, .... '
"True, father; hut they have never been
imprisoned, you know, and have already leam-
cu iu i.iivu c.uu oi iiiemseives.
The father looked up and smiled.
"Worthy of profound consideration, my
uear; i uuuiii your pica; out Have a care lest
you overrate tho danger and the difficulty, in
your unwillingness to part Willi your beauti
ful little birds."
"Father!" and tlio littlo hand Dressed un
on the spring, aud tho door Hew open ,vidu
'Stay my child! What you do must bo
done thoughtfully, conscientiously, so lli.it
you miy ne saiisimi Willi yuurstii hen alter,
and allow me to hear all your objections."
'I was thinking, fttucr, al nit tlio cold
rains, and tiie long winlei's, aud how the poor
little birds that have been so lou r couiined
would never bo able to find a place to sleep
in, or water to wash iu, or seeds lUr their lii
"In our climate, my love, the winters aro
very short; and the rainy season iucif does
nut drive the birJs away; and thoii.yimlcnow
onus aiways luuuw ineMin; n our cll.uat'! is
too cold lor them, tiny have only to o j far
ther south. But iu a word, my li.vo, you are
to do as you would bo done by. As you
would not like to havo mo separated i'rom
your mother and you; as you would not like
io lie imprisoned lor lile, tiiougli you cage
were cram, no I wiih loifsugir and spoicn;
cake as you "
That'll do fither! that's enough! Broth
er B.ibby! hkiier Bobby! bring t.io little ca.re
with you; tiu;.-, 's a dear!" "
Brother Bob'iy sing out i.i reply; and after
moment or iwo of anxious inquiry, nppoir
cd at the window wiih a iitliu ejre. Tim
prison doors were opened; the faiher bird
escaped; the iindhi r bud immediately follow
ed, witli a cry of joy; and tin n came back and
tolled her little ones forth among the bright
green loaves. Tho children clapped their
hands in an ecstaey, and the faiher fell upon
their necks and kissed them; and the mother,
who sat by, sobbed over them both for a
whole hour, ns if her heart would break; and
told her neighbors with tears in her eyes.
"Tho ungrateful hussy! Whit! after all
that we have done for her; givingher thehest
room that we cneld spare; feeding her from
our own table; clothing her from our own
wardrobe; giving her tho handsomest and
shrewdest fellow for a husband within twen
ty milesof us; allowing them to live together
till a child is horn; and now, because wo have
thought proper to send him away for a while,
where ho may nam Ins keep now, lorsootii!
we aro to find my lady discontented with her
"Ay, discontented that 3 the word actu
ally dissatisfied with her condition! the jade
with the best of every thing to make her
happy comforlsand luxuries she could iiev
cr dream of obtaining if she were freo to-mor
row and always contented; never presum
ing to be discontented till now.
"And what does she complain of father?"
"Why, my dear child, the unreasonable
thing complains just because wo have sent
her husband away to the other plantation for
a few months; lie was idle here, ind might
li.ivo crown discontented, too, if we Ind n
nicked him off. And then, instead of being
liappier, and more tlmikful more thankful
to her heavenly Father, for the gilt ot a m in
child, .Martha tells me tint she found her cry
ing over it calling it a little er, an I wish
the Lord would t ike it av::y from her the
iinTratcful wench! when the death of that
child would be two hundred dollars outof inv
pocket every cent f it!"
"After nil we have done for hurtoo!" sigh
ed the mother.
"I declare I have no patience with ihe
jade!" continued the fither.
'rather dear lather! '
"Be quiet, Moggy? don't toi?.e mr. now."
"But, fither!" and, as she spoke, the child
ran up to her father and drew him to the win
dow, and threw back her sun-shiny tresses,
and looked up into his eyes with the face of
an angel, and pointed to the cage as it still
hung atthe window, w ith the door wide open!
The fither understood her, and colored to
the eyes; and then, as if half ashamed of the
weakness, bent over and kissed her forehead
smoothed down her silky hair and
told her she was a child now, end must not
t ilk about such matters till she had prown
"Why not, fither?"
"Why not? Why bless your little heart!
Suppose I were silly enough to open my doors
and turn her adrift, with her child at her
breast, what would become of her? Who
would take care of her? who feed her?"
"Who feeds the ravens, f.lher? Who
takes care of all the whito mothers, and all
tho whito babes we see?"
"Yes, child but then I know what you
are thinking of; but then there's a mighty
diirerence, let me tell you, between n slave
mother and a white muilu-r between a slave
child and a whits child."
Don't interrupt me. You drive every thing
out of my head. What w:ia I going to say !
Oh! ah! that in our long winters and cold
rains, these poor things who have been bro't
up iu our houses, and who know nothnur a-
bout the anxieties of life, and havo hever
learned to tike care of themselves and
"Yes, father; but coucln't thry Julluto the
tun, umf rr in J art iter Piuuthl
"And why net be happy here?"
"But, father dear father! Iuw ran they
lecffi iiieir Ultie ones tojly in a etti'tl
"I'hild, you are gelling troublesome!
"And how teach their young to provide for
'But the little imp lo bed, directly: doyou
"Good night, father! (Jood night, moth
er! Do A3 VOU WOULD BE DONE BY."
To be read on a cold night in December.
BY "OLD HUMPHREY."
Help mo my young triends! Help me, for
11)0 poor stand in need ot coinlort: let us try
io no mem a kindness.
How the casements rattle! and hark how
tho hitter, biting blast whistles among the
trees ! It is very cold, and will soon be cold
er. I could shiver at tho thought of w inter,
when the icicles hang upon the water-butt,
when tlu snow lies deep upon too ground,
nun uie oia, cold wind seems to liecito ilie
heirt as well as tho finger ends.
Yet, after all, the d.ukest night, tho bitter
est blast, and t,io rudest storm confer some
benefit, for they m ike us thankful for the roof
ta il covers in, tue lire ihat warms us, and lor
t ie grateful influence ol : comfortable bed.
Oil the lux iry of a gool, thick, warm pair
of blankets, when the w intry bljst roars in
tho chimney, while the feathery (lakes ol"
sii.o.v are flying abroad, and tho sharp hail
p itters against tho window panes !
Did you ever trawl a hundred miles on the
outside of a coach on a sharp frosty night;
your eyiM stiilened, your face smarting, and
your bo ly hall-petulied ! Did you ever keep
watch in December in the open air, till the
mare than midnight blast had pinched all
your features into sharpness; till your feet
wo.o cold as a stone, and tho very stars ap
peirr'J as il frozen to tho sky? If you have
never borne these things, I have; hut what
aro they compared witii tho trials that some
people havo to endure.
Who can tell the sufferings of thousands
of poor peoplo in winter, from tho want of
warm bed clothes ! and w ho can describe tho
comfort tiiat a pair or two of blankets com
inuiiicato to a destitute family ! How often
hive I seen the wretched children ofa wretch
ed habitation, huddling together on the floor,
beneath a ragged great-coat, or flimsy petti
coat, striving lo derive that warmth from each
other which their scanty covering failed to
In many planes, benevolent persons give or
lend blankets to tho poor, and thus confer a
benefit, tho value of which can hardly be told.
May they bo abundantly repaid by the grace
of that Savior who said, when speaking of
kindness dono to his disc.inles, " Inasmuch i
as vo have dono it unto one of tho least of,
these my brethren, yc have done it unto ine
Think ol theso things now, lor it will on
no use to reflect on them in summer. Char
ity is never so cordial as when it feels the
ninety it relieves; while you leel the cold,
then do something to protect others from the
inclemency ol the season. It is enough lo
bo ill-fed, "and ill-clothed, and lo sit bending
over a dying fire without a handful of fuel to
revive i!; hut after that to pass the night with
out a blanket for a coveiing, must indeed be
Seo in the sharpest night tho poor old man,
over whose head t'irnescora and ton winters
hive rolled, climbing with diiuculty his nir
row staircase, to creep beneath his thin rag
ged coverlet! Sen tho aged widow, once
lulled iu the lap of luxury, but now girt a
round with trials, in fastings often, in cold,
and almost nakedness, worn by poverty to
tho very bones, stretching her cramped limbs
upon her bundle of straw ! Fancy hut w hy
fancy w hat you know to be true? these poor,
aged, miserable beings have to shivorthroug'.i
the live-long night, when a blanket would
gird them round w ith comfort. 1 could weep
at such lui.srrics as these, miseries which so
small an effort might rdi-ve. Tho table
crumbs i.i" tho rich would make a banquet for
the poor, and the spare rcmnanU of their clo
thing would defend them froai the cold.
Come, come, reader! you are not without
some leel I ug ol pnv ana auecuon inr your
ru ... . 11 .,t .1 :.. :
... r -:: ,., ;:.. ;.;" ;:: z "r rzz
If there be a heart within you, if you have
a soul that ever offered up an expression of
thanksgiving for the manifold mercies which
your lieiveulv Father has bestowed upon you,
then sympathize with the wretched, and re
lieve, according to your ability, tho wants of
tho destitute. L: t inn beseech you lo do
something this very winter towards enabling
sonic poor, aged, helpless, r.r friee.dh.ss per
son, who is slenderly provided for, to pur
chase a blanket. You will not sleep the less
comfortably, when you reflect that some shiv
ering wretch his been, by your assistance,
enabled to pass the wintry nights io comfort.
It is not a grsut thing that is repiired; do
what yoi can; but do something. Let me
not plead in vain; and s'.iaaie betide me if 1
neglect myself the thing that I recommend Ij
you to perform.
Did you ever lie snug and warm in bleak
December, the bed-clothes drawn close round
your neck, and your nightcap pulled over
your ears, listening to the midnight blast,
and exulting in the gr.-,tcl"ul glow of your de
lightful snuggery:' I know you l.avc, anil I
trust, too, that the very reading f lh"se re
marks will affect your hearts, and dispose you
to some "gentle deed of charity" towards
:.,.. ,. .,. .., .!.....;..,,. ..I- . ..i. .. ..;.,
v. ma,: ,,,,. airui'.t.i.trui aui.,1 1 1 II I II , , , uiu I, fc.
Now, then, while tlio subject is before you,
while ynu look round on your manifold com
forts, while you feel tho nipping and frosty
air, resolve, aye, and act, iu a way that wiil
bless others, and give comfort to your own
Youth and health may rejoice in frost and
snow, and while the warm blood rushes
through tho exulting frame, we can smile ::l
tho wintry blast; but age, sickness and in
firmity, can t n.e no exercise s iffu icnt t
q'deken the sluggish current of their veins.
Wrap them round, then, with your clnrity;
help them to obtain a piir of warm blankets,
and the blessings of the widow and tho fath
erless, the ng-'d and infirm, the destitute, and
those ready to perish, shall rest upon you.
A JUVENILE PHILOSOPHER.
Of perfect social freedom I never knew but
one instance. Dr. II of Boston, com
ing homo to dine one day, found a very bright
looking, handsome mulatto on the steps, ap
parently about seven or eight years old. As
lie opened the door, tho boy glided in, as it
it were his homo. ' What do you want!' said
the doctor. Tho child looked up with a smil
ing confidence, and answered, ' I am a little
bay that run away from Providence; nnd I
want some dinner; and I thought mavbe von
Huuiu give inn some. ins rial, nil lace and
childlike recdoni operated like a charm.
lie had a good dinner, and reiuiiiied several
days, becoming more and more the pet of tho
whole household, llo said ho had been cru
elly treated by somebody in Providence, and
had run away; but the people he described
could not be found. The doctor thouMit it
would not do to have him growiiiT up in id!e-
liou. nn,l lio lm,..l t.i Ui.. I . 1 ! I
could run of errands, clean knives, &c. fur
his living. An hour alter tins was mciiti..ii-
ed, the boy was missing. In a few weeks,
they heard ot him iu an opposite part of llio
sitting on the door-step at dinner time.
Wnen the door opened, h;v a ! el insmil n .
and said Mam a little boy tint run aw.iy from
Providence; aud 1 want so.ne dinner; 'nd I
thought maybe you would give me s-ne.'
lie was not mistaken this time either. The
heart that trusted so completely, received a
cordial welcome. After a time, it was aaiu
proposed to find some place at service; aud
straightway this human butterfly was oil', no
one knew whither.
For several mouths no morn was heard
of him. But ono bright wiiUer-day, his
first bei efctor found hint seated on the
steps of a house, iu Beacon street. ' Why,
loin, where did you coino from!' said I e.
'1 euino from Philadelphia.'
' How on earth did you iret there?'
'I hoard folks talk about New York. nn! i
i thought 1 should liko to see it. So 1 went
on board a steamboat; and when it put oil",
the captain ask"d nio w ho I was: and I told
nun tiiat l was.alililo bey.that run away from
I rovidence, and 1 wanted to go to New York,
" y money. ountllu rascal,'
"uJ"":i i inrovv you overnoaru. 1 don't
believe ymi will, said I; and ho didn't. I
told him 1 was hungry and he n-ave me some
thing to eat, and made up it nice littlo bed fur
mo. When I got to New York. I wnni i,,l
sat down on a door-step; and when tho gen
tleman came homo to dinner, I went in,"and
told him that I was a litlle boy that run a-
way from Providence, and I was hungry.
So they gavo me something to eat, amf made
up a nice little bed for m, and lot mo stay
there. Bui I wanted to see Philadelphia: so
I went into a steamboat; and when thev ask.
cd me who I was, I told them that 1 was a
little boy that run away from Providence.
They said I had no business there, but they
pave me an orange. When I got to Phila
uuiphiu, I sat down on a door-step and whan
the gentleman came homo to dinner, I told
him 1 was a littlo boy that run away from
Providence and I thought perhaps lie would
give mo something to eat. So they gave mo
a good dinner, and made me up a nice little
bed. Then I wanted to coino back to Bos
ton; and every body gave me something to
eat end made mo up a nice little bed. And
1 sat down on the door-step, and when tho
lady akked ine what 1 wanted, told her 1
was a little boy that run away from Provi
dence, and I was hungry. So she gave mo
something to eat, and made inn up a nice lit
tle bed; and I stay hero and do some errands
sometimes. Every body is very good to me
and I like every body.
lie looked up with tho most sunny gayety,
and striking his hoop as he spoke, went down
the street like un arrow, llo disappeared
soon after, probably iu tpiest of new adven
tures. I have never heard of hint since; and
sometimes a p:.inful fear passes through tny
mind that the kidnappers, prowling about our
large town-:, have carried him into' slavery.
The story had a chirm for me, for two rea
sons, I was delighted with theartless freedom
of the winning wavward cbil.h nn,l oilM
did 1 rejoice in tl,0 'perpetual kindness, which
...i,..,, ,,.:, i .
cu., int-uuiy erppiin'T.
" w.e but ,i,re l0 thmw ouwewe.
upon eacn oilier s liearis, liow the image of
heaven would be reflected all over the face
of this earth, as the clear blue sky lies mir
rored in the waters. Mrs. Child.
A Cheap Breakfast A son of Erin at
Schenectidy heard the breakfast bell ring on
board n canal boat just starting out for Buff.i
o. I'he fragrance of tho viands induced
htm to go on board.
"Sure, dipt iin, dear," said he, "an'
what II ye ax a poor man for travelling on
yer liiegaiit swan ov a boat!"
"Only a cent and a half a mile and found,"
replied the captain.
"An' is it the viulesyo mean to find sure?"
"e.3. And if you're going alonir, to
down to brnikf.sst."
Put didn't w.u.t to he told a second time,
but hiving descended into the ..,lo '.?
j made a he .riy inc. 1, ho came on deck aud
re im's.eu ilV,,i iau n, at might be st ipped.
"What .io you waul to slop for!" inquired
"How fir hive wc come, just," asked Pat.
"Only a lit:le over a mile."
Pt thereupon handed the captain two
cents, and coolly t-.i.l him that he believed
that be w ould not go any further with him,
as Judy would want her breakfast, not know
ing that he had breakfasted out!
The joke was so good that the captain
took the cents, ordered tho boat to stop, help
ed Pat ashore aud told him tiiat should he
evrr have occ isiou tj travel that way ag..in
ho should be most happy to carry him.
CTlIow eloquently forcible the great
Chanuiiig thought and u rote, lie wisi
j of the first men of Ihe ego, an I when h i
I died one of the bright st light ; that burn?!
on earth was quenched. is;en t) hini j
".No mm, who s.viously considers what
human nature is, what it h ,s i-.i.kIj for, can
think of selling up a claim to contrjl a fel-
I low. hat! own a sniri.u.il hi-inr madr. t
know anil adore Ond, and who i i to outKm
tho sun an I si ir ;! . h ,i! chain t our low
est uses a bring made f r truth and virtue!
Convert into a unite ins'.nrnent tint intelli
;;eut m i ii n on which the i.iei of duty dawn
ed, and which is a liohler ide-. if Cod than
all outward creation! Should we not deem
it a wrong which no punishment could expa
tiate, were cue of our child-en seized as
property, ami driven by the whip to toil?
An 1 shall Cud's ciiiid, di ar.;r to him than an
only son to a parent, be thus degraded! Kv-
i f. '"" - ' "n '? ""ivmso.
cry i, inig els,.' may lie uw.ieu i
i oiu a mora .
a mora!, rational being cannot be proper-
il. Suns and stars may be owned, hn. not
tho lowest spirit. Trado in anything but
this. Lay not your h ind upon 'God's n-
tional offspring, 'i'he highest intelligences
I recognize their own rights in tho humblest
! hum in being. By that priceless immortal
: apiiit which dwells iu him, by that likeness
of God which ho wears, tread him not in tho
mis', confound him not with tho brute.
"Ine mass ef mankind havo not been horn
with saddles on their backs, for a favored few
booted and spurred, ready to rido thein legiti
mately by the grace of Cod.' 'Jejjer, un?
,, r i ...
1 o- ! ,, ""P l,;,nnst ? "nn In3 ,lie le,s ll8
i r 10 alf ,' a S t!, Hectation ot"
i Ba"ctll' 11 blotch on Ihe face of piety."
ANTI-SI, A V'EIt Y PUBLICATIONS.
. 2, 2"mY3l'3 iTJBUBDCS ha.
just recei.i.d -and has now for salo at her
boarding house, Sarah Galbroath's, west siti
Tl I K CONSTlTirriON A PRO-SLAT
Lii COMPACT, or seleotions fuoj
tup. Madison Papers.
THE BROTHERHOOD OF THIEVES,
0!t A Till'E PICTURE or THE Amudii.
Church and Cmitny, by S. S. Foster
COME OUTERISM, or "the dutv or'ss-
CESSIO.N r BOM A CORRUPT CIIUKen, by Win.
TUB AMERICAN CIIURCHS TUB BUL
WAK IvS OF AMERICAN SLAVERY
by James G. liirncy,
" 1 1 1 K OrT KlllNfi,
"THE DISUNIONIST." hy Wendell Phil
"ARCHY MOORE" by Richard R. Ilil
dreth. "VOICES OF THE TRUE HEARTED
From No. 1 to (5 inclusive.
PORTRAIT OF LUCRETIA MOTT.
CHANMNG'S LAST ADDRESS.
NARRATIVE OF THE LIFE OF FRED