New York, November 8th, 1853.
A Dialogue.
SCENE.—A breakfast table.
Mrs. Goodman, a widow.
Frank Goodman, her son.
Mr. Freeman, a Southern gentleman, brother to Mrs. Goodman.
Mr. Dryman, a boarder.
Mr. Freeman. (Sipping his coffee and looking over the morning paper) reads—
"The performance of Uncle Tom's Cabin attracts to the theatre very unusual audiences. In the "genteel row" last evening, we observed the strictest religionists of the day, not excepting puritanic Presbyterians, and the sober disciples of Wesley and Fox. For ourselves, we must candidly confess we have never witnessed such a play upon all the emotions of which humanity is susceptible. Mrs. Stowe, however unworthy the name of Patriot, is at least entitled to the credit of seizing the great thought of the age, and embodying it in such a form as to make it presentable to every order of mind and every class of society. She says, in effect, to Legislators, let me furnish your amusements, and I care not who makes your laws."
Politicians would do well to look to this—(laying down the paper and speaking in a tone of impatience)—so, so, Fanaticism is leading to its legitimate results. Uncle Tom in our parlors, Uncle Tom in our pulpits, and Uncle Tom in our plays.