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ones, and because I believe that there is more certainty, that the desired object will be immediately attained in this way than any other.

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"Yours respectfully,

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S. B. WOODWARD."

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No testimony could be more valuable than this. It should be remembered, however, that the provision proposed, while it would give accommodation to 150 or 200 more than are now provided for, would not be sufficient for all who should have a place in such an asylum. This additional provision would, indeed, be a great gain. But we trust, that when this subject comes before the Legislature, there will be a committee appointed to enter into a thorough investigation of the number of insane throughout the State, and to report concerning their condition, that the community may have authentic information upon this subject.

During the past year, several gentlemen, by visiting our jails and alms-houses, have endeavored to become better acquainted with the present state of things, and one individual, a lady, who has long been practically interested in the moral welfare of those who are in prison, has, at her own expense, not only visited alms-houses, jails, and hospitals in distant cities, but has visited within the last six months every county, and nearly every town in the State, and is at this time pursuing her investigation, which voluntary and Christian labor she will not close, until every alms-house and jail has been examined. The shameful neglect manifested in a few places, first awakened sympathy, and, with earnest perseverance, the work has, thus far, been carried through. These things show what can be accomplished by individual effort, and that there are substantial causes for continued exertion.

We do not doubt, that if this subject can be fairly brought before our State Government, ample accommodations will be provided for every lunatic in the State, either by the erection of a new asylum, or by the enlargement of those institutions which already exist. Should the Commonwealth persevere until this good work is accomplished, she will eradicate a fearful wrong from the midst of society, relieve hundreds from suffering, and complete what has been nobly begun; a work which is worthy of a people's sympathy, and the fostering care of an enlightened government.

R. C. W.

POEMS ON SLAVERY.

In both prose and poetry, in any and every form that language can assume, we desire ever to raise our voice against Slavery Slavery of body and mind, at home and abroad, original and transmitted. Yet we ally ourselves with no existing association, of any name or kind; nor are we partisans of any movement, at present devised or in progress for the abolition of that gigantic evil, that hovers like a destroying curse over the land, and which, if the South find not its reason or humanity, nor listen to the entreaties or warnings of mankind, will one day fall, and bury freeman and slave, them and us, in a common ruin. For no movement, we apprehend, save one on the part of the slaveholding community itself, can free the slave, without entailing upon the country a greater evil than that which it removes. On our part, at the North, this seems to be a subject for action no otherwise than, in the first place, through a moderate, just, and humane press:moderate, in that it shall not require moral changes in the character of the slaveholder, in his opinions, principles, and feelings, as great as the mind can well conceive, to be accomplished in a day or a year—just and humane, in that it shall consider the rights and feelings of the unfortunate, in most cases, involuntary slaveholder, as well as the scarcely more unfortunate slave. And in the second place, through petitions to Congress, both for the removal of this offensive institution from the District of Columbia - common ground to all the Union, and where the Northern man ought not to be compelled to witness any of the signs of that traffic in blood, which is apt to stir his passions too much against the abettors of it, when his reason is enough—and for the passing of such laws, and making such changes in the constitution as shall lead the way to its ultimate extinction.

In the mean time we hold that the provisions of the constitution are to be inviolably observed, in their letter and in their spirit; nor should any rash and unprincipled violation of it — as by the South in the imprisonment and selling as slaves of free colored citizens of the North landing on their shores — serve as a pretext for similar violation on our part. Whatever others VOL. XXXIII.—3D s. vol. XV. NO. III. 45

may do, let not us violate a moral obligation, or break our promises, or do evil that good may come, or think we are serving God and right by forcing our own sense of duty and religion upon the conscience of others. Let nullification become right, here, and in one thing, and it is right, everywhere, and in everything, and anarchy is come. Absolute, unconditional fealty to the constitution is a more binding duty, and a higher virtue, and a more probable means of securing the general welfare, than carrying into effect any one, or any twenty, benevolent projects, to which our own judgment or humanity may prompt us. We can listen to proposed changes in the constitution though to change, even but for once, seems to imply corruptibility, and to threaten death-nay, we can listen to discussions of projects for new divisions of the Union, to the nicest calculations of its value, but never to any proposition that involves a violation of the original compact. carries with it the taint of treachery, and the breaking of a plighted word, and no evil can be so great as that. While the constitution stands, let it stand. Let it be the Constitution or Revolution.

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But whatever fault we may find with some attempted or proposed methods of political action, we cordially greet every new laborer in the moral field of this divine labor of human emancipation. Especially happy are we to be able to count one of Mr. Longfellow's genius and celebrity among those friends of universal liberty, who are willing to speak their word in its behalf. In this little book of poems he has spoken with feeling, with truth, and eminent poetic beauty. It would not be right to quote the whole volume, and would, we suppose, be an invasion of copyright, and bring us into trouble; but we will venture upon half, and trust to the author's clemency.

THE SLAVE'S DREAM.

BESIDE the ungathered rice he lay,
His sickle in his hand;

His breast was bare, his matted hair
Was buried in the sand.

Again, in the mist and shadow of sleep,
He saw his Native Land.

Wide through the landscape of his dreams
The lordly Niger flowed;
Beneath the palm-trees on the plain

Once more a king he strode;
And heard the tinkling caravans
Descend the mountain-road.

He saw once more his dark-eyed queen
Among her children stand;

They clasped his neck, they kissed his cheeks,
They held him by the hand!.

A tear burst from the sleeper's lids

And fell into the sand.

And then at furious speed he rode
Along the Niger's bank;

His bridle reins were golden chains,

And with a martial clank,

At each leap he could feel his scabbard of steel Smiting his stallion's flank.

Before him, like a blood-red flag,

The bright flamingoes flew ;

From morn till night he followed their flight,

O'er plains where the tamarind grew,

Till he saw the roofs of Caffre huts,

And the ocean rose to view.

At night he heard the lion roar,

And the hyæna scream,

And the river-horse, as he crushed the reeds
Beside some hidden stream;

And it passed, like a glorious roll of drums,
Through the triumph of his dream.

The forests, with their myriad tongues,

Shouted of liberty;

And the Blast of the Desert cried aloud,

With a voice so wild and free,

That he started in his sleep and smiled
At their tempestuous glee.

He did not feel the driver's whip,

Nor the burning heat of day;

For death had illumined the Land of Sleep, And his lifeless body lay

A worn-out fetter, that the soul

Had broken and thrown away!

THE SLAVE SINGING AT MIDNIGHT.

LOUD he sang the psalm of David!

He a Negro and enslaved,

Sang of Israel's victory,

Sang of Zion, bright and free.

In that hour, when night is calmest,
Sang he from the Hebrew Psalmist,
In a voice so sweet and clear
That I could not choose but hear,

Songs of triumph, and ascriptions,
Such as reached the swart Egyptians,
When upon the Red Sea coast
Perished Pharaoh and his host.

And the voice of his devotion
Filled my soul with strange emotion;
For its tones by turns were glad,
Sweetly solemn, wildly sad.

Paul and Silas, in their prison,
Sang of Christ the Lord arisen,
And an earthquake's arm of might
Broke their dungeon-gates at night.

But, alas! what holy angel
Brings the Slave this glad evangel?
And what earthquake's arm of might
Breaks his dungeon-gates at night?

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