crumbling mansions, of beggared planters and barren plantations, of fear from without, of terror within.
The once fertile fields are wasted and tenantless, for the curse of slavery, the improvidence of that labor whose hire has been kept back by fraud, has been there, poisoning the very earth beyond the reviving influence of the early and the latter rain.
A moral mildew mingles with and blasts the economy of nature.
It is as if the finger of the everlasting God had written upon the soil of the slave-holder the language of His displeasure.
Let, then, the slave-holding states consult their present interest by beginning without delay the work of emancipation.
If they fear not, and mock at the fiery indignation of Him, to whom vengeance belongeth, let temporal interest persuade them.
They know, they must know, that the present state of things cannot long continue.
Mind is the same everywhere, no matter what may be the complexion of the frame which it animates: there is a love of liberty which the scourge cannot eradicate, a hatred of oppression which centuries of degradation cannot extinguish.
The slave will become conscious sooner or later of his brute strength, his physical superiority, and will exert it. His torch will be at the threshold and his knife at the throat of the planter.
Horrible and indiscriminate will be his vengeance.
Where, then, will be the pride, the beauty, and the chivalry of the South
The smoke of her torment will rise upward like a thick cloud visible over the whole earth.
Belie the negro's powers: in headlong will,
Christian, thy brother thou shalt find him still.