American fathers, let me ask you, are the advantages of slavery sufficient to induce you to submit to the terrible wrong of being separated from your wives and children, and sold to a distant owner? American mothers, do you desire that your husbands should be torn from the hearth-stone, and sold from your presence forever? Do you wish your children snatched from your cradles, knocked off at auction to the highest bidder, to go away from you forever? If not, then let your apologies for slavery cease.
Reader, I take my leave of you, with the fond hope, that the recuperative moral energies both of the north and the south will soon herald the dawn of that glorious day when the sweat and blood of the unfortunate African shall no longer be struck into coin for the use of the cruel, unrelenting white man.
Errata.—On page 13, second line from the bottom, for “writing” read writhing.
THE TRAVELLING PILGRIM.
I have no friends, no helper nigh,
But He who heard the raven’s cry;
My father’s house I’ve bid adieu,