“Yes.” And now there was deep bitterness. “And I find it only words!”
The Irishman leaned over and placed his hand upon the young man’s knee. He spoke softly.
“Aye, lad—words! But words that can come alive! And that’s worth working and even fighting for!”
Chapter Nine
“To be henceforth free, manumitted and discharged from all manner of servitude to me....”
The two letters reached them in the same mail. One came from James Buffum to Frederick; the other was for Daniel O’Connell from George Thompson, the English Abolitionist. Thompson, who had been stoned from his platform in Boston on his last trip to America, had not met Frederick. However, he had heard from William Lloyd Garrison.
Their letters said substantially the same thing: “We need Douglass in Scotland.”
The facts were brief. It had been proved that the Free Church of Scotland, under the leadership of the great Doctors Cunningham, Candlish and Chalmers, had taken money from slave-dealers to build churches and to pay church ministers for preaching the gospel. John Murray of Bowlien Bay and other antislavery men of Glasgow had called it a disgrace. The leading divines had thereupon undertaken to defend, in the name of God and the Bible, not only the principle of taking money from slavers, but also of holding fellowship with these traffickers in human beings. The people of Scotland were thoroughly aroused. Meetings were being called and strong speakers were needed. Buffum and Thompson were already on their way to Edinburgh.
“You’ll come back, Frederick?” O’Connell’s voice was wistful. It was like parting with a son.
“Come with us!” Frederick urged. But the “Liberator” shook his head.