vicinity of Boston.  He and his family were absent for some days; but a lady in the house invited Mr. Crafts to come in and stay till they returned.  “No, I thank you,” he replied.  “There is a heavy fine for sheltering fugitives; and it would not be right to subject Mr. Loring to it without his consent.”  “But you know he is a true friend to the slaves,” urged the lady.  “If he were at home, I am sure he would not hesitate to incur the penalty.”  “Because he is such a good friend to my oppressed race, there is all the more reason why I should not implicate him in my affairs, without his knowledge,” replied this nobleman of nature.  His wife had slept but little the previous night, having been frightened by dreams of Daniel Webster chasing her husband, pistol in hand.  The evening was stormy, and she asked him if they could not remain there till morning.  “It would not be right, Ellen,” he replied; and with tears in her eyes, they went forth into the darkness and rain.  Was that a man to be treated like a chattel?  How many white gentlemen are there, who, in circumstances as perilous, would have manifested such nicety of moral perception, such genuine delicacy of feeling?  England has kindly received that worthy and persecuted couple.  All who set foot on her soil are free.  Would to God it were so in Massachusetts!

It is well known that Southerners have repeatedly declared they do not demand fugitives merely to recover articles of property, or for the sake of making an example of them, to inspire terror in other runaways; that they have a still stronger motive, which is, to humiliate the North; to make them feel that no latitude limits their mastership.  Have we no honest pride, that we so tamely submit to this?  What lethargic disease has fallen on Northern souls, that they dare not be as bold for Freedom as tyrants are for Slavery?  It was not thus with our fathers, whose sepulchres we whiten.  If old Ben Franklin had stood as near Boston Court House as his statue does, do you believe he would have remained passive, while Sims, the intelligent mechanic, was manacled and driven through the streets, guiltless of any crime, save that of wishing to be free? My belief is that the brave old printer of ’76 would have drawn down the lightning out of heaven upon that procession, with a vengeance.

What satisfactory reasons can be alleged for submitting to this degradation?  What good excuse can be offered?  Shall we resort to the Old Testament argument, that anodyne for the consciences of “South-Side” divines?  Suppose the descendants of Ham were ordained to be slaves to the end of time, for an offence committed thousands of years ago, by a progenitor they never heard of.  Still, the greatest amount of theological research leaves it very uncertain who the descendants of Ham are, and where they are.  I presume you would not consider the title even to one acre of land satisfactorily settled by evidence of such extremely