struggles had I come to rest upon the free heart of New England; by what weary marches and flinty paths had I come to do homage to those men at whom he was sneering, as to heralds of this nation's promised land! I turned, and told him plainly that he had mistaken my opinions, which were not those common in the South; and that I could not help thinking that such disparagements of free men and institutions, on the part of those whom they had fostered, were like tempting with alcohol an inebriate whose family is starving at home.

I have in my mind a case of a very different kind. It was, I believe, about eight years ago that I was consulted by a committee at New Haven as to whether I knew any gentleman in the South who would be willing to deliver a lecture in New Haven in defence of the institution of Slavery. My mind fixed upon George Fitzhugh of King George County, Virginia, who had written works on the "Failure of Free Society," and "The Sociology of the South." Mr. Fitzhugh went to New Haven, and gave, on the evening of his arrival, a lecture entitled, “Free Society a Failure." Wendell Phillips was present and heard the lecture, and Mr. Fitzhugh evidently took pleasure in seeing him. Fitzhugh's method of proving Free Society a failure was by theories and speculations which had got into crevices and under the eaves of his brain, like the bats in the rickety old mansion, situated on the fag-end of a once noble estate, in which he resided. This spot of "the sacred soil" he had never left for a month, and of Free Society, of course, knew nothing. At New Haven he fell, I am happy to say, into very different hands from those of the Hon. Mr. of Boston, or Polonius at Newport. He was the guest of that honest and noble man, if God ever made one, the late Mr. Samuel

Foote. On the next morning after the lecture Mr. Foote took Mr. Fitzhugh in a buggy, and drove throughout the beautiful town of New Haven and its environs; showed him houses and cottages which would be marvels of elegance in Virginia, and informed him, without any allusion to log-cabins, that many of these mansions belonged to mechanics, and some even to day-labourers. Fitzhugh was thunder-stricken. He had proved Free Society a failure without ever leaving his State; nobody replied to him, but he went home answered. He always preserved an ominous silence about the visit; but he acknowledged his mistake about Northern society, and though before that he had invariably printed a pamphlet every six months in favor of the "Sociology of the South," I believe he has not penned a line of the kind since. The grave and impressive rebuke of Samuel Foote, who simply said that he "would take him (Fitzhugh) out to see how Free Society had failed," was never lost. Mr. Foote was a gentleman in an old sense, which is sometimes forgotten even in scholastic Boston; that is, he was gentle, but always man.

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If Northern men would oftener refrain from abnegating their manhood and slandering their own country, — did they act this manly and gentle part toward Southern men, I can imagine many benefits which must flow from such a course. The South would respect the North, and the sentiment of the North. The South always believed that the North would cringe to the last, as she had been doing for fifty years. What say you, gentlemen, are we done cringing? Or is Mr. Vallandigham and his posture to be first endured, then pitied, then embraced, as, according to the poet, is the way with moral monsters? "I do not trust him," said Richelieu of the soldier; "he

bows too low." Hamlet never despises Polonius more than when the latter fools him to the top of his bent. Had the North been determined, outspoken, and faithful to herself, she must have been faithful also to the South, and might have averted the tumor which now eats into her Southern brother's heart, instead of fostering it.

"What mighty matter," says the Brahmin, "is the subjugation of the sea-girt earth to those who cannot subdue themselves." Not until we have conquered this dapperness and inhumanity in ourselves; not until the North ceases to ask what shall be done with negroes; not until the infamy of Illinois Black Laws is held to be deeper than Carolina Slave Laws, can we gain any noble victory. Through self-control lies the only path to control; at present we have as yet to prove that we are worthy to win the victories of Liberty and Law.

When the North rises fully to the stature of manhood, and grasps the sharp horn of the Southern Achelous with a human hand, no longer meeting horn with horn,— then that horn will break off, and become for this nation the horn of plenty. A touch of pure humanity can make this Rebellion yield a fruitage of peace, prosperity, and honour for which we might otherwise have had to wait a century. Ah, had we a Hercules, knowing that hand is stronger than horn, to guide us!

XII

A POST-PRANDIAL POINT

Ar a dinner given in Washington to Mr. Prentice, Mr. Secretary Smith, replying with warmth to some strong anti-slavery sentiments which had just been uttered by Mr. Cameron, said: "If we, being eighteen millions, can

not put down this rebellion of six millions without freeing their slaves, we ought to give the war up."

Doubtless the Secretary, when he got off this bit of wisdom, had been paying more attention to his own Interior than to that of the country.

Six bad men can burn up a half-dozen blocks of a city, and destroy a thousand lives, before they could be arrested. It would be a fine thing for such to retain at their trial Mr. Smith, whose opening position would be: "Gentlemen of the Jury, if several blocks of a city and hundreds of people cannot keep from being burnt up by six men, they ought to be burnt up!"

The remark brings before us the inequality of the combatants in this war.

Some years ago Daniel Webster was challenged to a duel by some booby from Texas (I believe), whose range of ability was limited to the skilful use of rifle and bowieknife. Mr. Webster was inclined to accept the challenge; but his friends interfered, and declared that the stakes were unequal; that such a brain as that of Daniel Webster's could not be risked against even many hundreds of Texans, much less this bore. They were willing that a certain mad bull at Marshfield should meet the Texan, but compelled Mr. Webster to decline.

The reading public is now reading with delight the exquisite delineations of Theodore Winthrop. You who have read "Cecil Dreeme," "John Brent," and "Edwin Brothertoft," think a moment of such an imagination, such culture, being at the mercy of some wretched little drummer-boy! Where are his equals in the South? or those of Lyon, of Baker, or of Fitz-James O'Brien?

But these are minor inequalities, and we allude to them only to remember that there is a fearful inequality in the

institutions which produce such men as those I have named, and those which produce Floyds and Twiggses in shoals, but to eight millions of men not one literary or scientific man of any importance.

Americans! we have no right to imperil liberty one hour, nor to allow it to remain in peril, that we may show the world that we can "whip the South." The point which the Secretary of the Interior raised is but a point of sectional vanity, and it is far beneath the tremendous issue in this crisis. Is it a point of pride with Freedom to prove that it excels Slavery as butcher of men? When this war began, the successes were more frequently on the side of Slavery, and the wisest said: "There are glorious obstacles to the success of the North! Free institutions do not breed the requisite number of Floyds and Twiggses -thieves and traitors-for this work; Freedom's sons cannot hate and sting like vipers; they will not poison springs, and put up false banners to lure a foe into traps." There was room for some pride in that direction. But these glorious obstacles are fading; the thirst for Southern blood grows; and presently the North will be demoralized enough to equal the recklessness and spite of Slavery.

Once, says a fable, there was a stag which had long, branching horns, of which it was very proud; but of its feet it was very much ashamed. One day this stag, pursued by hounds, found its despised feet quite serviceable; and indeed the feet would have saved him had it not been for the horns of which he was so proud, for these becoming entangled in some bushes, the stag was overtaken by the hounds.

The North can win no military laurels in this conflict; should it gain the victory, the world will see as little glory