QfortteU Httiocraitg Eibrara BOUGHT WITH THE INCOME OF THE SAGE ENDOWMENT FUND THE GIFT OF HENRY W. SAGE 1891 Cornell University Library ACS .C58 Pioneer: or. Leaves from an editor's por olin 3 1924 029 631 706 Cornell University Library The original of tliis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924029631706 THE PIONEEK; OK LEAVES FROM AN EDITOR'S PORTFOLIO. By henry CLAPP, Jr. For Heaven's sake, Harry, do not attempt to weave your fragile, finespun theories into the web of actual life : you have been a dreamer of dreams, and aprojector of schemes all your days, yet what have yongaii^ed by tjhem all f " I have gained, as Byron- says, a deal of judgment." Emma C. Embdby. L Y N. N : PRINTED BY J. B.JFf^AN, 12 EXCHANGE-ST. 1846. " Let us speak plain ; there is more force in names Than moat men dream of! and a lie may keep Its throne a whole age longer, if it skulk Behind the shield of some fair seeming name ; Let us call tyrants, tyrants, and maintain That only freedom comes by grace of God, And all that comes not by his grace must fall ; For men in earnest have no time to 'waste In patching fig-leaves for the naked truth." J. R. Lowell. PREFACE AND INSCRIPTION. The following pages consist mainly of editorial articles written for the "Essex Cotjntt ■WashingtoiIian," and "The Pioneeb," * interspersed, — for sake of variety, and to give the book a redeeming trait in the minds of those who have a strong aversion to its leading principles, — with some thirty or forty of the first poems of the age, and two or three of less pre- tensions, which may well congratulate themselves on having an opportunity to appear in so good company. The sentiments which characterise the work, as will be seen at a glance, are at open war with our popular Eeligion, and nearly all its "Institutions." The writer sees no beauty in its rites, and no comeliness in its temples. They seem to him cold, barbarous, repulsive, and degrading. Seeing its priesthood enlisted against every radical movement for the removal of human misery, and its places of worship closed hermetically against nearly all the advocates of human progress, — ^he fails to perceive in that Eeligion any elements of moral beauty or spiritual life. — Its faith is a gloomy, inhu- man, sepulchral principle which may, as its partisans contend, do very well " to die by, " but which is utterly unfit for any intelligent being to live by — either here or hereafter. — Its God is a haughty, despotic, revengeful king, glorying chiefly in the abasement of his subjects, and of so low a character * "The Fioveee " is a continuation of the " Essex Coomty Washinotomiak," with no change except or name. It is published weeldy, in Lynn, Mass., under the editorial care of the writer, and is devoted to the advocacy of such sentiments on the subject of reform as its name indicates. It endeavors to be "independent in everything, neutral in nothiuff, " asking " a fair field " and such favor as it deserves. PEEFACE AND INSCRIPTION. as to take delight in the softest adulation, and the grossest flattery. The eold and far off Heavens are fitly represented as his home, the fitful light- ning as the flash of his eye, the hoarse thunder as his voice, and this earth, with its myriad of human hearts struggling for Hfe and light, as his foot- stool. Not a frightful event takes place in the concerns of man which is not attributed to his revengeful " Providence ": and there is not a wild passion in the human breast, — not jealousy, not envy, not pride, not ambi- tion, not vengeance, — which has not been represented as a component part of his divine character. The priesthood of this baneful Religion are, for the most part, the relent- less enemies of all innovation, and the swift defenders of all popular sin. Only entrench a system of iniquity, however great, behind the walls of the statute book, — throw before it the broad shield of popular opinion, — and yon may be sure that thenceforth, (unless those protections are withdrawn,) that priesthood will extend it the right hand of fellowship to the end of time. The highest standard of right which that order of men practically acknow- ledge is the popular will, — whose shifting vane they watch with the restless eye of the mariner, anxious to trim his sails to the uncertain wind. How different the Religion, the God, and the Priesthood in question are from the Religion, the God, and the Priesthood of the New Testament, there is no room here to inquire. Let each one,— lifting the thick film of pre- judice, and drawing the deceptive veil of early association from his eye, judge for himself. For one, the writer is free to say, that if the Religion of this nation were the Religion of the New Testament, that book instead of being the blessing it now is to the human race, would be an unmitigated curse, and the Saviour it reveals, the greatest tyrant who ever lent the sanction of a charmed name to bigotry and crime. But let not this thought (that the popular Religion is one with that of the New Testament,) be expressed or intimated, even by way of hypothesis ; for surely every person whose soul has not become petrified by the hardening elements of a false society, must Tenom that a Rehgion whose protecting arms embrace every species oflegalized iniquity in the world, is as different from the Religion of the New Testament as darkness from light, as Christ from Belial. But why lengthen this preface into an essay. It needs only to add that PREFACE AND INSCRIPTION. the author of these desultory papers believes that Christianity contains the only system of ethics from which the human race has anything to hope, and that in proportion as its benign influences take possession of the human heart, crime will disappear from the face of the earth, and Bigotry and Superstition — those twin Goddesses of crime — ^wiU fold their black wings in the embrace of death. It may be too much to hope, that the-foUowing " articles " — (composed, as they were, amid the conflicting labors and wearing responsibilities of more than one employment) — ^will do anything to shake the faith of the people in their unrighteous God, nevertheless the writer entertains and indulges that hope, and was strengthened by it in preparing them for the public eye. If the writer has been fortunate enough to escape to any extent from the meshes of politics and sect, and to adopt a philosophy unlimited by sectional lines and unwarped by sectarian prejudices : if he has learned to consider the claims of Humanity as paramount to all others, and to repudiate and trample under foot whatever conflicts with those claims, however hallowed by age or consecrated by association : if he has been enabled to see with tolerable clearness the intrinsic evils of all political or religious corporation, and to protest with any power against cumbering the reforms of the day with a particle of its destructive machinery : if he has come to appreciate the sublime character and inconceivable power of unrestricted and unor- ganized speech as a reform instrumentality : if, in one word, his eyes have been opened to the infinite beauty and entire practicability of the distinctive principles of the New Testament : — he is mainly indebted for such wisdom to the brilliant pen, and heroic life of Nathaniel Pkabodt Eo&ebs, to whom, therefore, this little book is affectionately inscribed, as the most sigaificant token the author can offer of his profound admiration and esteem. H. C. Jr. Lyhn, Jan'y 1st, 1846. CONTENTS. WASHINaTOKIANISM, Common Cotiktesies, . Prefaeation for War, . The Devil, The Bible, . The Worldly Great, Peace on Earth, . PROSE. Page 1 15 16 18 22 24 28 Letter from Nantucket, 33 38 40 45 49 51 57 60 65 71 76 82 The True Spirit of Keform, . ... Modern Christianity, A Harmless Soldiery, WASHINaTONIANISM IN CONNECTION WITH OtHER EeFOKMS, Reaction, Spiritual Tyranny, Correspondence, Spiritual Lieht, Great and Grotesque Celebration, .... The Dismal Swamp, Self Reliance, Washinstonian Jubilee on Boston Common, . Free Speech, The Gibbet, Society, Misfortune a Cause of iMTEMrjSBANCE, 91 95 102 105 CONTENTS. Page The Liberator, - ... 112 Reform Instrumentalities, 117 The Truth, 120 MiUTARV Companies, ... 121 Slavery as Sanctioned bv the Bible, 125 William Rich, . ... ... 131 The Hutchinson Family, . 136 Talkins Machines, ■ 137 Sunday, June 16, 1844, 140 The Bright Side, 149 Letter from N. P. EoffERS, 151 Radicalism, • 159 Reyitals, 162 Simon and his Family, 167 New Orleans, 174 New Orleans, No. 2, 179 Scraps of History, 185 Jesus Christ, 192 The Medals, . . 196 Our Cause, 207 POETRY. The Old Oaken Bucket, .... By Samuel 'Woodworth, Oh Trifle not with any Heart, . By Henry Clapp, Jr., . Peace on Earth, ...... By John Pierpont, Be Patient Editor of the Dublin Nation, A Psalm OF Life, ... By H. W. Longfellow, To THE Unsatisfied, By Harriet 'Winslow, How TO Keep Lent, .... By Robert Herrick, SoNa, By C. T. Congdon, The Brid&e or Si&HS, . . . By Thomas Hood, 14 21 30 37 43 47 48 53 54 CONTENTS. The Bereaved Slave Mothek, . By Jesse Hutchinson, Jr., Hymn to the Flowers, ... By Horace Smith, Each in All, By Ralph Waldo Emerson, The Battle of Blenheim, By Robert Southey, Slander, . . By Frances S. Osgood, Bridal Wishes, . . . . By " Barry Cornwall," Lament of the Widowed Inebriate, By A. J. H. Duganne, . Labor, . . -By Frances S. Osgood, . The Gallows Goers, By Thomas Dunn English, Childhood, .... By Charles Lamb, Faith, By R. S. ,S. Andros, A , Christmas Carol, .... By S. T. Coleridge, Not on the Battle Field, . , By John Pierpont, Give me A Grave, &c., .... By Caroline A. JBriggs, Man, . By George Herbert, The Lover of Nature, . . , . By R. W. Emerson, Jeanie Morrison, By William Motherwell, Abou Ben Adeem, By Leigh Hunt, . The Sons of the Shirt, . . . By Thomas Hood, It IS Little, . .... From Thomas N. Talford's " Expostulation and Reply, . By William Wordsworth, The Tables Turned, , By William Wordsworth, The TmES,THE Manners and the Men, By James Rassell Lowell, Midnight Musie, By Lydia H. Sigourney, Rest, \ By George S. Burleigh, The Lat of the Labome, ... By Thomas Hood, The Toilers, Anonymous, The Baed, By Alonzo Lewis, . J^HouaHTs ON Partj;ng, .... By Henry Clapp, Jr., Page 68 69 75 80 84 85 89 94 :oo 104 111 115 122 129 134 139 146 150 156 Ipn," 161 165 166 172 183 184 189 194 206 208 THE PIONEER, WASHINGTONIANISM. AN ADDRESS PREPAKED FOR THE UNION MASS MEETING OF SUFFOLK, NORFOLK, PLYMOUTH, AND BRISTOL COUNTY WASHINGTONIANS. It would be aa insult to an intelligent public, to enter into a serious argument against the use of intoxicating liquors as a drink. No such argument is' needed. Their deleterious influence has long since been established to a demonstration. No man who enjoys the reputation of a reasonable being denies it. It has taken place among those facts which it is a mark of insanity or foolishness to question. The same may be affirmed of the sale of intoxicating liquors as a drink. The argument on this point is very simple. Mem- bers, as we all are, of a social compact whose main security is ■yirtue, it is plain that any one who persists in an occupation which saps the foundation of public morals, is an enemy to his race. That the man who sells intoxicating liquors as a drink is engaged in such an occupation, he does not himself deny. It is evident, therefore, to the humblest apprehension, that such a man is an enemy to his race, and, of course, should be treated as such. It is pleasant to know that this view is so generally received, that decent men are fast withdrawing from the dreadful traffic in question, and leaving it in the hands of men, whose moral char- acters are somewhat in keeping with their business. Under these circumstances, it does not seem worth our while to spend any more time on this branch of our subject. We shall 2 THE PIONEER. confine ourselves, therefore, to those topics which have not as yet received general attention. The " Washington ian movement" commenced on the 5th day of April, A. D. 1840. On that memorable day — which should be consecrated in the annals of every true friend of temperance — William Mitchell, David Anderson, Archibald Campbell, John F. Hoss, George Steers, and James McCurley, met together in the city of Baltimore, and formed the first Washington Total Abstinence Society. Their proposed aim was first to reform themselves, and then to reform their brother inebriates. Their idea was as simple as it was great. It had its foundation in the principles of Faith, Hope, and Charity; — "and the greatest of these was Chaeity." It considered no man as beyond or beneath its influence. It recognized neither despair nor despondence ; and gathered strength from the very magnitude of its task. The few men who received into their breasts this great idea, and gave it a practical illustration in their lives, had no concep- tion of its destined popularity. They little thought that they were raising a spirit which it was not in the power of man to put down. But such was the fact. Their noble idea travelled through the country with the speed of light. It visited every city, town, village, and hamlet, and its progress may be traced by the footprints of charity and love. It went on " conquering and to conquer," with a power and Success unparalleled in the history of reform. Its insignia was the pledge, which it nobly assumed, when once taken would always be kept. That pledge has proved the magic word, the " open sesame," to hearts which, it was thought, were closed forever against the admission of any good influence. Men who had long since parted with all the charac- teristics of men, — whose reasons were beclouded, whose con- sciences were seared, whose whole constitution, moral, intellec- tual, and physical, had for many years been palsied by the dreadful power of intemperance,— who were by-words in the community, and whose sin and degradation had passed into familiar proverbs, —such men (and, alas, such men are found all over our land,) in THE PIONEER. large numbers, seized instinctively the proffered pledge, and gathering up, as it were, the wasted energy of a whole life for the effort, made one mighty struggle, snapped asunder the chains of sensuality, and came forth renewed in the spirit of their lives, transformed from the condition of beasts which perish to the stature of men and of Christians. " Whereas once I was a DEUNKAED," Said JoHN HaWKINS, " NOW I AM A SOBER MAN :" and these words of exultation sounded from countless lips, and en- tered into countless hearts. Thousands of wretched families who depended on the cold charities of the wtirld for their support, whose misery of body and soul was beyond the power of expres- sion, and found its only language in cries and groans, — who were sinking deeper and deeper every day in the black depths of sensuality and sin, — who were "living without God in the world," and saw no better world beyond, — whose prospect seemed to be one dark, cold, starless, and endless night, — whose children were thin with hunger and pale with suffering, — and all of whose wretchedness was the result (and the natural result) of drunken parents, who, instead of repenting of their brutal conduct, added daily to its power by the most cruel and disgusting acts of per- sonal violence ; — thousands of such families, we repeat, in every section of the country, have been raised by the almost miraculous power of the Washingtonian pledge, to the state of comfortable, prosperous, and Christian homes. We should like to dwell upon such pleasant pictures. It would be a delightful task to present to your minds a view of some of the innumerable homes which are now smiling with peace and plenty, and radiant with the beauty of holiness, through the re- generating power of the Washingtonian idea, as administered through the Washingtonian Pledge. But, thanks be to God, this is not necessary. There is not a person, probably, who will read this address, who does not know within his own experience, however limited, instances of the same kind, so bright and so beautiful as wholly to eclipse any picture which it is in the power of language to portray. THE PIONEER. Imagination fails, the pen drops powerless from the hand, and all words become poor and cheap, when we attempt to transfer to paper the sublime beauty and happiness of a reformed family. If you would gather new zeal in our behalf, if you would dispel every doubt as to your duty in this cause, if you would receive an impulse to your benevolent spirit which it shall feel to the " last syllable of recorded time," go and visit a reformed family ; — and as the smile of the happy wife falls like sunlight upon your heart; as the merry voices of her children ring through your soul; as the reformed man reaches out to you his hand, first brush- ing from his face the tear of joy, and gives you his hearty wel- come ; as you look around his tidy room and see all about it evidences of comfort and happiness ; — and then as you turn your eye up to the tastefully decorated mantelpiece and behold over it, in a neat frame, that pledge, which, under God, has caused all this happiness, (and which pledge is held second only to the Bible, in point of sacred importance and worth,) — as you behold all this, tell us if our cause is not noble enough to engage the attention of " earth's wisest and best ;" tell us if it is not overrunning with the spirit of Christian brotherhood and love ! We come now to ask, wherein is the wonderful efiicacy of this movement ? The consideration of this question will lead us to many topics which, at the present time, need to be clearly pre- sented to the public mind. We answer, in the first place — that the Washingtonian move- ment found the field white for the harvest. The ground had been prepared by the temperance organizations instituted prior to 1840. True, when this movement was commenced, but little, compara- tively, was doing ; but this is to be accounted for by the fact that the energy and efficiency of the old means were nearly exhausted. It was not within the scope of the old organizations to accomplish much upon the drunkard — nor indeed to effect much any way on the Washingtonian plan. Their work was in another direction, and in another form — and it was faithfully done. They entered upon the work — we speak particularly now of New England — THE PIONEER. when rumselling was a reputable traffic, and they did not relax their labors until it was disreputable. They placed the brand of shame on the distiller, until " it went hissing to the bone." They flooded the country with facts. They labored with an iron ener- gy, and published report after report, until the light of truth had penetrated every part of the country. At the time the new movement commenced, however, the storm they had raised ap- peared to have passed over, and the waters were becoming still and stagnant. The tide of public opinion which, through their great exertions, had been made to set in favor of temperance, was, if not actually ebbing, very nearly in that state. It was evident, therefore, that a new agency was needed — that new machinery and new principles were needed to carry out the work. And as God has, in all great crises in the world's history, raised up men — ^not always the great and mighty, but often the weak and humble — to meet the emergency ; so, now, he did not fail us, but, in his good providence, raised up the men, (whose names we have before mentioned,) and to whose triumph, through his blessing, we are indebted for the present Reform. Most of the men engaged in the former movement are now engaged in this ; and the few who now hold back, naturally distrustful of any innovation, will, no doubt, ere long, enter our ranks, and labor with their accustomed vigor and success. The second answer to the question, wherein is the efficacy of this new movement, must be found in its intrinsic character. — This leads us to a brief analysis of the Washingtonian Idea. Its elements are — 1. Faith in Man. This is its distinctive feature, its pride and power. Prior to the Washingtonian movement, there did not appear to be faith enough in the whole country to save one drunkard. He was given up as hopeless. It was generally con- sidered that to him that dreadful time had come when God would no longer strive. The fact that a man had feUen among rum- sellers, who had " stripped him of his raiment, and wounded him, and departed, leaving him half dead," was considered a valid THE PIONEER. reason for passing him by on the other side. He wa^ left on the rough highways and byways of the world, bruised and bleeding, — the scoff of the wicked, the jeer of the thoughtless, the neglec- ted of nearly all. The language even of the temperance man was, "Ephraim is joined to his idols; let him alone." And so the poor inebriate was left " alone," festering in iniquity, shut out from all pure influences, a neglected leper by the road-side, with the words " unclean, unclean," written all over him, that none might approach him, or give heed to his cries. His case, in other words, was considered as past cure. Tot- tering on the slippery verge of the grave, the feeling of the world was, let him fall into its devouring jaws, that he may be swal- lowed up forever. Now before the Washingtonian faith all such ideas flee like the small dust before the whirlwind. That faith embraces all. It is a panacea which never fails. It dreads contact with no lep- rosy of soul or body. When both soul and body are reduced to the lowest state of degradation, and man is trembling on that line which separates him from the beast; the Washingtonian, full of that faith which, in such an extremity, is indeed " the substance of things ho'pei for, and the evidence of things unseen" believes that beneath the decaying embers of the mind, glimmering be- neath the " repentant ashes," the vital spark still lives, and that the breath of human affection may fan it into a warm and purify- ing flame. With such a faith, he laughs at all obstacles, and spurns all opposition. Clad in the panoply of love, he visits the darkest haunts of human wretchedness, and the star of hope sheds its cheering light upon his path, and guides him to success. Besides the immense power which this faith has upon the in- ebriate, the Washingtonian who applies it with unwavering fidelity, finds that it reacts with two-fold power upon himself. la laboring to impart its noble virtues to his unfortunate neighbor, he feels that "It is twice blessed, It blesses him that gives and him tha^ takes." THE PIONEER. In fact, one of the greatest indusements which we can offer to the public to " come over to Macedonia and help us," is, that by embracing our noble faith, and incorporating it into the life, a man receives into his heart a principle, which, if faithfully adop- ted, carries with it some of the loftiest thoughts and purest emo- tions of which the human mind is susceptible. He finds himself the possessor of some of the noblest truths which have dawned on the world — " truths which wake to perish never " — truths which, in the hurlyburly of the world, have been almost forgot- ten, although essential elements in the Christian religion. This Washington ian principle is as old as truth itself, and has always existed, in greater or less distinctness and power, in every human breast. In most, however, it has been obscured by the mists of sensuality and sin, or buried up beneath a mountain load of cark and care. Bat when, these mists scattered, and this load removed from the mind, this primal principle of the soul comes to light with something of its pristine beauty and power, we learn with deep surprise that we have been " entertaining an angel una- wares ;" in other words, that away out in the background of the soul, in its " holy of holies," there has always been a spiritual presence straggling to make itself known, and which, now that it has revealed itself, encircles us, as it were, with a new atmos- phere, and imparts to us an elasticity and energy of mind of which before we had no conception. 2. The next element in the Washingtonian Idea, is its Faith IN THE Teuth. It believes that the truth is mighty and must prevail. It has no fears concerning its final success. Its lan- guage is, as sure as there is a God in Heaven, the truth must conquer. "The lip of truth shall be established forever." — Though the minds of the people may be darkened by passion, or beclouded by self-interest, it has faith that though slowly, yet surely, the truth must work its way into the convictions of the community. For this, the Washingtonian is willing to work and to wait. He does not expect to gather in the harvest, the moment the seed is cast upon the ground ; but he has never a doubt that. THE PIONEER. in due time, God smiling on his efforts, the harvest will come, bearing fruit, some ten, some twenty, and some an hundred fold. 3. Again, Faith in Love is an important element in the Washingtonian idea. We have already touched upon this point; but it cannot be touched upon too often. The power of love, that perfect love which casteth out fear, is the great instrumentality of the Washingtonian. He believes that the winds of persecution only compel the sinner to wrap the garments of iniquity closer about him, while the warm sun of affection causes them to drop instinctively from his limbs. It is hard to drive a man. The slave, whose constitution has become inured to tyranny, may be driven : but the man, the free man, will submit to no such treat- ment. He does not recognize the right of his fellow sinner to compel him to any thing. He is easily persuaded, but hardly ever forced. The most attenuated cord of affection may draw him into the right path ; but once arouse his passions by threats and abuse, and he will break away from the stoutest cable, as it were gossamer. Such at all events, is the experience of the Washingtonian ; and it is a rich experience, shedding light upon every path of duty. He has reached thousands, and drawn them into the fold of temperance, whom the world had been for years endeavoring to reform by neglect and persecution. In this connection, it is proper to observe, that, as the affections have had so prominent a part in our reform, we have had, to an unexampled extent, the influence of woman. She knows, better than man, the avenues to the human heart : and this knowledge has been of incalculable value to our cause. She embraced the Washingtonian faith as soon as it was presented to her. She had an intuitive assurance that it was the truth. It answered to all her noblest aspirations. It harmonized with all her con- ceptions of moral beauty. It was an instrument fitted to her heart and to her hand ; and that she embraced it warmly witH both, her successful labors will bear witness. Hand in hand with her brother laborers, she has entered into the work, and reached many hearts which else had remained in darkness. She THE PIONEER. 9 touched the tender springs of the soul which evaded the hand of her less delicate brother. That quickness of perception and delicacy of execution which belong to her sex, have done more than most any other agency in carrying on the gresCt work. Her influence, though silent, has been constant and efficient. She has come "without observation;" and with a Christian's faith and a Christian's patience has labored, not unsuccessfully, to crown oiir efforts with the garlands of her affection. 4. And, finally, the Washingtonian Idea includes Faith in God. The Washingtonian feels this to her an important article in his creed. " Paul may plant, and Apollos may water ; but God must give the increase." Unaided by the "breath of Heaven," our cause will be carried back on the strong tide of pop- ulax sin, and swallowed up in the great maelstroom of intemper- ance. We build upon the Christian platform. Every other is unsta- ble as water. In humble imitation of Jesus Christ, the Washing- tonian would go about doing good. Like him, he professes of himself to be able to do nothing ; but relies, at all times, for suc- cor and success, on "his Father and our Father, his God and euiGod." We have thus endeavored to present to your consideration some idea, however inadequate, of the " Washingtonian Faith." We now appeal to you, whether it is not entitled to your support. This is evident. Talk as we may, in our zeal, of the popularity of our cause, — 4t has, as yet, but a slight hold on the public re- gard. The proof of this rnay be found in the large number of rum-shops and rum-hotels, in the small number of temper- ance-shops and temperance-hotels, and the fact that these are not countenanced to any extent even by temperance men ; in the fact that, in many instances, we have not the influence of the professedly Christian Church : in the fact that it is very dif- flcult to raise funds to carry on the cause ; in the fact that, in many parts of the State, it is still fashionable to offer intoxicating liquors as a refreshment ; in the fact that merchants of otherwise 3 10 THE PIONEER. reputable character, are engaged in importing such liquors ; in the fact that influential men let their buildings for rum-selling taverns and shops; and, finally, in the fact that, notwithstanding the beneficent influences which have proceeded from our labors, they are looked upon by many of the leading men and women of society as hardly worthy to engage the attention of intelligent, re- ligious, or influential persons. At first view, this seems like a strange state of public sentiment. It hardly seems credible that an institution which labors so suc- cessfully for the removal of one of the greatest evils which ever afflicted society, should have to labor against such adverse influ- ences. It would seem that the conscience of the community had become petrified. But when we consider for how long a period - the atmosphere has been poisoned by the breath of the distillery, how accustomed we have been to witnessing th^ frightful effects of that dreadful miasma, — and then remember how true it is that habit becomes second nature : it is not, perhaps, to be wondered at that it is so hard to lift the leaden eyelids of the people. We will not — at least we will not yet — believe that the heart of the com- munity is a heart of stone. It cannot be. This is evident from the fact that when any unusual calamity visits the land, approach- ing in its terrible consequences the evil of intemperance, every heart is touched, and almost every person in the community is ready to contribute his mite towards its removal. Let a man ' meet with some unforeseen accident depriving him of the use of his limbs, and incapacitating him from earning his livelihood, — and there is no difficulty in exciting sympathy and procuring pe- cuniary relief in his behalf. Take a case of late occurrence. There was recently a great fire in Fall River. That beautiful tovro was nearly consumed to ashes. The rich were reduced to poverty, the poor to beggary. The news of the disaster went abroad upon the four winds, and reached every section of the country. The destructive flames themselves, as they leaped from house to house and from street to street, did not spread more rapidly. The public sympathy was THE PIONEER. 11 every where excited. Assistance was proffered and sent from all directions ; and the mails groaned with the abundance of letters containing remittances and expressions of sympathy. Wagons laden with furniture, clothing, provisions, and other articles of re- lief, arrived almost hourly. And all this was well, was noble. It spoke volumes for the intrinsic benevolence of the country. It proved that the heart of the people was warm. Now such facts go irresistibly to prove that the only reason why the people do not come to the relief of the victims of intemperance is that they have been so accustomed to their presence as not to realize their terrible condition. It cannot be that the people know or suspect the horrors of intemperance ; if they did, they would rise up en masse, and drive it from the land. Would that we could arouse the public mind to some idea of the sufferings which are occa- sioned even in one day by intemperance ! Why, what was that fire in Fall Eiver to which we have alluded, and which drew so largely upon the public sympathy ? — Why, it was but a spark, compared to the fire vtrhich is raging in every town in the country, at this very moment. Wherever there is one family suffering from the consuming heats of intemperance, there is a fire, in comparison of which the fire of Fall River is not worthy of a thought : — that is, if a man is of more importance than a house, or a family of more value than a town. We are of those who think it is a terrible thing to see a man on fire ! And yet we see this every day ! A man on fire ! How awful the thought ! A hu- man being burning to death ! A family of men, women, and children, in the very midst of a civilized country, burning before a slow fire ! Awful, staggering as is the thought, such scenes are as common as the rising and going down of the sun ! And yet, how inconsistent we are ! We all stand ready to work our fingers to the bone, to climb up burning rafters and swim through a sea of flames almost, to save " buildings made with hands ;" and yet buildings not made with hands — the tem- ples of the immortal spirit — are blazing all around us, and we will scarcely lift a finger for their relief. To arouse the people to a 12 THE PIONEER. sense of this wide conflagration, which is burning in all our towns and cities '' As one great furnace flamed ; yet from whoSe flames No light but rather darkness visible," which, after it has consumed the body, has power to destroy the soul ; and to assist in extinguishing that conflagration, is the ob- ject of the Washingtonian movement. It has already snatched thousands and tens of thousands as brands from the burning; and it now asks your aid and sympathy for the completion of its noble work. When you are with us, the work is done. But so long as we have to breast the tide of your influence, our progress must be slow. We appeal, especially, to the leading portion of the community. It is you who give the bent to public opinion. You hold the reins of power, and yet it is behind your example that the rum- seller and rum-drinker skulk, and skulk successfully, for support. You do not mean to cover the land with drunkenness ; but you do. Once let your opinion go against the rum-seller, and he is no more. He sucks his sustenance indirectly, and too often di- rectly, from such persons. So long as he is sustained by the Wealthy, the educated, the influential classes of society, so long, he will continue to cUrse the community. Withdraw that suste- nance and he perishes. But while members of the legislature, judges of courts, lawyers, school-masters, clergymen, officers of temperance societies, professing Christians, State and town offi- cers, physicians, lecturers, men of " property and standing," put up at rum-selling hotels and drink intoxicating liquors, so long the fires of the still will continue their ravages, and men will make it a regular business to set each other on fire ! And now what more need be said ? We have proved our cause to be the cause of humanity, and the cause of Christian truth : and we now appeal to you by every high and holy virtue, in the name of our common faith and our common Father, to give it your support. It is a work whereof the workman need not be ashamed. It is THE PIONEER. 13 the star of hope to millions of the poor and down trodden. The flowers of pure affection are strown all along its path. The grate- ful tears of them which were lost fall upon it like rain; — the hap- py smile of their families gilds it with the light of heaven. It breathes the spirit of Christ in every breath. Its true laborers go forth " shod with the preparation of the gospel." By the blessing of heaven it is " Almighty to create, almighty to renew." We feel that it is good to be engaged in such a cause. We can enter into it with all our heart, soul, and strength ; and more than at any other time can we enter upon it when our hearts are warm with the spirit of our holy religion. While the consecra- ted elements are yet upon our lips, while the baptismal waters are still glistening upon our brow, while the echo of the Christian benediction is still sounding in our ears, we would hasten, in all the earnestness of our Christian zeal, to give to the cause of tem- perance renewed tokens of our interest and affection. And it is this cause — this holy cause — ^which we now submit to your con- sideration. We beseech you consider it thoroughly, earnestly, and prayerfully. And if you do this in good faith, we are sure you will soon be with us. Judging our cause by the Christian standard of its fruits, beholding as you will the regenerating power it has exercised upon society, and remembering, as we trust you will, that he who is not with us is against us, and who gathers not with us scattereth, we do hope that you will soon give us the powerful aid of your labor, your sympathy and your prayers. 14 THE PIONEER. THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. EV SAMUEL WOODWOETH. How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood, When fond recollection presents them to view ! The orchard, the meadow, the deep tangled wild wood, And ev'ry loved spot which my infancy knew ; The wide-spreading pond, and the mill which stood by it, The bridge, and the rock where the cataract fell ; The cot of my father, the dairy house nigh it, And e'en the rude bucket which hung in the well ! The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, The moss-covered bucket, which hung in the well. That moss-covered vessel I hail as a treasure ; For often, at noon, when returned from the field, I found it the source of an exquisite pleasure, The purest and sweetest that nature can yield. How ardent I seized it, with hands that were glowing, And quick to the white pebbled bottom it fell ; Then soon, with the emblem of truth overflowing. And dripping with coolness, it rose from the well ; The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket. The moss-covered bucket arose from the well. How sweet from the green mossy brim to receive it, As poised on the curb it inclined to my lips ! Not a full blushing goblet could tempt me to leave it, Though filled with the nectar that Jupiter sips. And now, far removed from the loved situation, The tear of regret will intrusively swell. As fancy reverts to my father's plantation, And sighs for the bucket which hangs in the well ; The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket. The moss-covered bucket, which hangs in his well. THE" PIONEER. 15 COMMON COURTESIES. It is the little every day courtesies of life which betray the true Christian and gentleman — those little expressions of regard and interest, those little kindnesses and forbearances, which he has an opportunity to practice every hour of his life. They are the un- . failing indices of character. They are more eloquent of virtue than all great actions or high sounding professions. The heart from which they do not continually flow, like sparkling streams adown the hill side, you may depend upon it, is barren of all true excellence. That religion which consists in large gifts to the church treasury ; scrupulous attendance upon church meetings ; unqualified adherence to creeds and creed makers ; harsh judg- ments of the wicked; and great devotion to the far off heathen ; but which sets at naught the " sweet charities of life " — and makes no account of the common courtesies of society, is but as sound- ing brass and tinkling cymbals. The hearty " How d' ye do," "God be with you," "I'm glad to see you," "Good luck to you," and all the other greetings which are so often inter- changed by passers-by, fall upon the heart like seed sown in good ground, and give growth to all those gentle affections and humble virtues, which are to the mind what the luxuriant under-growth of shrubs and flowers is to the earth. The smile of kindness which you bestow upon the care-worn laborer, falls like sunshine upon his heart and warms all his faculties into new life and beau- ty. The word of comfort which you speak to the homeless wanderer goes deep down into his soul and kindles a new fire among the decaying embers of his mind. The mark of esteem and reverence which you extend to the aged man on whose brow is written, in deep characters, the history of many sorrows, recals to his mind the faded hopes and joys of youth, and' causes his pulse to beat with renewed vigor, and his eyes to glisten with un- wonted brilliancy. The look of sympathy shed upon the child of sorrow, or the word of consolation whispered into his ear, ex- 16 THE PIONEER. tracts the poison from his cup of sorrow, and tinges with the gold- den hues of hope, the cloud which heshadows his path. In the hallowed precincts of home, how much depends upon the countless and nameless acts of a kindly spirit ! How often a kind word or a reproving smile will extinguish the spark of harsh feeling which else had been fanned by the rude breath of passion into a devouring flame ! By warding ofT an unkind expression of hasty wrath with a forbearing and forgiving look, how easily we disarm all anger and restore the soul to serenity and love ! Is there a quarrel — a fierce dispute — a war of words, in the fam- ily circle, how easily one gentle spirit will subdue the elements, and make the thoughtless destroyers of domestic peace hang their heads with shame, and heartily repent of their ill-considered difficulties. Oh, my friends, it is these words of kindly remembrance sown along the dusty thoroughfare of life, which make the poetry of life, and which, falling upon a heart which has been broken up by vicissitudes, take deep root, and soon garnish the mind with flowers of perennial beauty. PEEPAEATION FOR WAR. The New Orleans Picayune comes out very strongly against the custom of wearing deadly weapons. It has frequently hap- pened, in New Orleans and otherwheres, that the most intimate friends have imbrued their hands in eaCh other's blood in mo- ments of hasty passion, when had there been no deadly weapons about them (or in the vicinity) the dreadfiil deed would not have been done. Indeed it is thought that at least two thirds of the murders (and manslaughters) which are committed at the South, grow out of this pernicious custom of " going armed." — It seems, then, that in cases of individuals, the often quoted saying — " in time of peace prepare for war," in other words, in time of friend- ship prepare for strife, is proved to be highly dangerous. It tends to produce the very war it would avert. Instead of settling dif- THE PIONEER. 17 ficulties, it multiplies and aggravates them. Why isn't it equally- true with regard to nations ? Why should they go armed? — Why should they belt themselves round about with pistols and bowie-knives ? Do such things " make for peace ?" Or do they not rather nurture a bloody and revengeful spirit ? Let our com- mon-sense answer. I am not sure but this peace question is the most important question before the people. It seems to me to include the whole circle of moral truths. My strong-minded friend John Pulsifer (of Lowell) said to me, the other day, that he had noticed this fact, — that every man who was converted to the principles of peace, became instantly a thorough-paced opponent of all slavery. My experience has been the same. And how could it be otherwise ? How can a man embrace the principle of the brotherhood of the human race (which is the vital principle of the peace doctrine) and sanction any form of human enslavement ? Will it be said that there are many true reformers who believe in war " under certain circumstances ?" It cannot be. Whoever is in favor of slaughtering his fellow men, whether aggressively or by way of retaliation, (or punishment,) can in no proper sense he called a moral reformer: He may be honestly opposed to apecific evils, such as drunkenness, slavery, licentiousness, gambling, — ^but so long as he advocates the old retaliatory doctrine of "an eye for an eye " — which is the essence of all war — so long his reform efforts will be worse than neutralized. It is idle for a man to tell me that he is doing a great Anti-Slavery work, when he would have the whole human race subject to a military despotism. I say a " military despotism " — because every military system, how- ever mild, is a cruel despotism. For in time of war every man in the country is the abject slave of the soldiery, — and if the order comes from the commander in chief (whether he be a President or a King) to cut the throat of one's own mother, or blow out the brains of his wife, — it must be obeyed at the peril of life. And in time of peace every one is compelled (also at the peril of life) to hold himself in readiness, " armed and equipped as the law di- 4 18 THE PIONEER. rects," to commit the grossest acts of violence which the powers that be command. Now I call this despotic, most cruelly so, — and no man who thinks it humane and brotherly, is competent to do much in the way of any reform. This war policy precludes the possibility of all faith, either in man or God. And, further- more, it tramples upon the right of private judgment, and admits of no individual conscience. How then can any man be a con- sistent opponent of any species of tyranny or sin, who can give the least countenance to so atrocious a system as that of war in any of its " Protean variety of shapes"? You will say that war, even in its most offensive manifestations, is allowed, and defended, by our " Christian Churches," (so called) but when you will men- tion to me a species of villainy which that church has not (at some time) allowed and defended, then I will admit your state- ment (which is notoriously true) to be an argument against my position, and in favor of war. I havn't time to pursue the subject, but throw off these rude suggestions in the heat of the moment, and in the hope that they may lead to deeper and wider views. The subject is one of im- mense importance and cannot be slighted by anybody with im- punity. THE DEVIL. Start not, most timid reader, at the name of this thine old ac- quaintance ; for why should'st thou be frightened at the name of so familiar and popular a character ? Thou hast known him from thy youth up— a good looking and courteous personage, who could tell thee, an' thou would, many a forgotten reminiscence of thee and thine, and who is, withal, one of the blandest and most affable creatures in the world. He moves in the best society, is rigidly scrupulous of his out- ward appearance, and prides himself no little on his knowledge of human nature, and his tact at ingratiating himself into the human heart. Polite to a fault, with a voice of the richest tone, and an THE PIONEER. 19 eye of the brightest glance ; bewitching by his smile, and entran- cing by his eloquence ; with a mind laden with knowledge and overflowing with light, he has ever been one of the most popular and influential characters of the day. Full often has he taten thee by the hand, and led thee into green pastures and by the side of still waters, while thou, poor deluded soul, imagined thyself in the society of one of " Heaven's elect." And yet thou tremblest at the mention of his name — and the very idea of contact with him blanches thy warm cheek, and fills thee with terror. Mistaken soul ! On the pages of the primer, and on the tablet of thy mind, this gentlemanly and accomplished Devil is painted, perhaps, as a poor fleshly body, gaunt and grim, having eyes of fire and feet tjiat are cloven ; with horns growing from his head, and barbed arrows from his mouth; with a long tail of many folds behind, and a long arm with many claws, before ; in short, " a monster of such frightful mien, As to be hated needs but to be seen." I tell thee, reader, such a picture is a gross slander on the per- sonal appearance of the Dark Prince. He is " black, hut comely, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, as the tents of Kedar, or the cur- tains of Solomon." Herein, thou should'st know, is the secret of his power — the cliarm of his life. Deformity has no attractions. Men are not drawn into any snare by repulsive and sickening leaders. They will not— unless barbarians indeed — ^worship"at the shrine of any monster. No. He who would lead them captive must array him- self in purple and fine linen. So at least thinks the personage in question, and he acts accordingly. 1. He comes in the gilded habiliments of pleasure. With smil- ing face and lightsome step he trips along, followed by a gay and thaughtlessi host, who sing and dance along the road to ruin, un- conscious of their danger, and careful only of immediate and pal- pable enjoyment. Lured on, step by step, from innocent recreation to unlawful 20 THE PIONEER. indulgence ; from unlawful indulgence to gross licentiousness ; from gross licentiousness to loss of self-respect and utter reckless- ness ; with besotted mind, and broken heart, and withered body ; their polite and fascinating conductor leaves them at the portals of the grave, where a press of other business obliges him to bid them a polite and affectionate goodbye, promising — the only prom- ise the deceitful wretch keeps — to meet them on the other side of the grave ! 2. He comes in the flowing dishabille of the Idler. With a jaunty air, a mind at peace with all the world, an enviable indifference to all the storms and calms of life, an unwrinkled brow and a spotless hand, — ^he allures many sons and daughters of industry from their toil, and| soon teaches them to look upon work as a burden, and industry as a disgrace. Cunning and crafty, art thou, indeed, oh Devil, with thy oily tongue and bland address, and thou dost truly erect thy busiest work shop in the brain of the idle man. 3. The Devil comes also in the " sober black " of hypocrisy. Gentlemanly, indeed, is he in this favorite character. In cowl and gown, with smooth face and smoother speech, he walks cau- tiously before the people, and gathers into his dark fold many a wandering sheep. Sympathizing with all sorrow, subduing all passion, regular in attendance upon Church, loudest in exhorta- tion and longest in prayer, he soon wins upon the heart of the credulous, and ingratiates him into his black art. The name of his followers is legion. It needs not, oh reader, that we describe them to thee ; for thou knowest them too well already. Neither is it necessary that we should show up the too fascinating Devil in any other suit from his many colored wardrobe. In conclusion, see to it, oh ye people, that ye look not for his Majesty as a horned and bloated monster, but rather as a bloom- ing and accomplished courtesan. Not in rags, not in deformity, but in purple and fine linen, works he about all thy paths, and lurks he about all thy hearts. THE PIONEER. 21 OH TRIFLE NOT WITH ANY HEART. Oh trifle not with any heart, However weak or wrong, And from thy quiver send no dart, To join the poisoned throng. The averted eye, and heart of ice, May freeze the trembling soul. When but a word of kind advice. Had saved it clean and whole. There is no heart unblessed by truth, — Where virtue has no place, — There is no age, there is no youth, Without its latent grace. The brightest mind may be o'ercast By Error's gloomy cloud, The wisest soul may, for a time. Seem lost in Folly's shroud ; — But eye of faith, and heart of love, Can see no deathly " shroud," And not a ray shines from above. But loves to gild the cloud. Then trifle not with any heart. However weak or wrong. And add no anguish to its smart. By speech, nor yet by song. If any sins be growing there. And spreading wide their roots, Instilling death into the air. And yielding bitter fruits, — With careful eye, and tender hand, Remove their parent stem; — But virtues, too, are growing there. Be sure and water them. So shall your path, by hill and dale. O'er life's uneven road. Be peaceful as the stream which " flows Fast by the Throne of God." 22 THE PIONEEE. THE BIBLE. Why is this repository of ancient history and literature, written by the greatest minds which have ever visited the earth, and in- spired by the Almighty with the Ibftiest strains of eloquence and truth ; why is this vast mine of intellectual and spiritual wealth so poorly appreciated and so little studied ? This is a question of vital importance. Here is a book, which, independent of its sacred associations, stands alone, unrivalled, unapproached, as the master-piece of the world's literature, and yet few, out of the pale of the priest-hood, are at all acquainted with its beauties. Rich beyond all comparison in bold and glowing imagery ; breathing, throughout, the most stirring eloquence, betraying in every ; line a thorough mastery of the human soul ; its poetry of such dazzling brilliance as to astonish and overawe the most gigantic minds which the world has produced ; it is looked upon by the great majority of readers as a book fit only for spiritual enthusiasts, and bigoted fanatics. It is read as a task and not as a delight. It is approached with an undefinable awe which beclouds its beauty, and renders its light dull and uncertain. How shall we account for this strange state of things? And, which is of more importance, how shall we brush the dust from its neglected leaves, scatter the mist which envelops its pages, and induce reflecting and intelli- gent people to search after its hidden treasures, and explore its unfathomable mines ? In answer to the first question, I would reply, it has been look- ed upon with an unnatural reverence and a superstitious fear. The shadow of the Church has fallen upon it and obscured its brightness. It has been buried up beneath uncounted volumes of stupid commentary, and barrel upon barrel of dingy sermons. Sectarians have placed false sign-boards over every passage, puz- zling the mind with all manner of foolish directions and false in- dices. Verse after verse has been wrenched from its proper con- nection and perverted to all manner of base uses. In this way THE PIONEER. 23 the pure stream of living waters, gushing fresh from the great fountain of truth, has. heen darlcened and polluted, until it seems to have lost all its healing and invigorating power. To drop the simile and speak the naked truth, the Bible has been so outrage- ously abused, that men lay it, carelessly, upon the shelf, where it has become moth-eaten and dust-worn for want of use. In answer to my next question, how shall we brush the dust from its leaves, and induce intelligent and reflecting people to search for its hidden treasures, I answer, let them read it for them- selves. Cast aside all commentaries, disrobe your mind of all prejudices, and enter upon its perusal with candid hearts and teachable minds. You will then wonder, as you peruse its bril- liant pages, that you have been so long ignorant of their intrinsic worth. Every chapter will inspire you with the noblest enthu- siasm. Imperceptibly, but surely and permanently, its noble spirit will steal over your soul, and give tone and character to your whole life. The cobwebs of modern religion will be swept from your mind, and thenceforth your heart will feel absolved from all priest-worship and creed-worship, and devoted to the service of the true God.-^Thus it is that the Bible will be redeemed from daily neglect and profanation, and many, to whom now it is a sealed book, will pant for its pure gospel " as the liart panteth after the water-brook." Even priests and D. D's will then be compelled to interpret it aright, and will become ashamed of the old wive's fables and Munchausen stories which they have been so long in the habit of representing to their parishioners as part and parcel of God's word. 24 THE PIONEER. THE WORLDLY GREAT. It is amusing (and instructive) to see how the friends of the various sectarian enterprises of the country, seize upon the influ- ence of " the worldly great," and even the worldly vicious, to help them out in their great work of enslaving humanity. It was made matter of loud boasting in the religious newspapers, a short time since, that the honorable Henry Clay was a church-goer. Now I have no question that Henry Clay's moral character will bear a triumphant comparison with that of the American priest- hood, — still it amuses me to hear that priesthood with one breath talk of its discipleship to the " meek and lowly Jesus," and with the next, " crow,'' with the zeal of a Chapman, over the possession of titled adherents ; — at one moment talk of the purity and piety of its ranks, and the next, brag of its slave-holding advocates.' — Unlike their professed Master, these fishery of men delight to bask in the sunlight of " principalities and powers," and when they are lucky enough to hook up a Lord, a President, or a " Mem- ber of the Cabinet," they are tickled e'enmost out of theirw its. In- deed it may be set down as the distinctive feature of modern Christianity, that it relies for support upon the favor of the great and the mighty. Conscious of its utter deficiency in all the ele- ments of a pure and self-relying faith, it clings to the powers of the world as its only support, and enters into a compromise with them to " secure a more perfect union." The connexion is not " sanctioned and sanctified" by law, as in the old world, — but on the contrary is an illicit connexion, carried on cunningly and se- cretly. As its part of the contract the state defends the church with the whole force of its military power, while she, in turn, stands ready, with outstretched hand, to baptize all the laws of that state in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost,— and compel the obedience of her victims with all the mighty enginery of « hell." As a proof of this position, take the course which the clergy have pursued towards the great constitu- THE PIONEER, 25 tional institution of this country, — chattel slavery. With a few exceptions they have brought to bear all their immense influence in its defence, so that, in order to reach that most accursed of hu- man institutions, the Reformer has had to hew his way through the very bowels of the church. And then the voices of both church and state have joined together to anathematize him as an infidel. Nothing is more despised in the professedly christian community than a religion which declares itself independent of principalities, and relies wholly fo^ its success on the intrinsic humanity of its character. I mistake. There is one thing which is despised more still, — and that is, a religion, which, in addition to its simple humanity, ventures to assert that the laws of God are more pow- erful for the pulling down of the strong holds of Satan than the laws of man. It is a most remarkable and significant fact, that the moment you declare absolute reliance upon the perfect law of God — ^which is only another name for the " perfect law of love " — that moment you are classed by all the religionists in the land as a hopeless atheist ! It will be seen, from a thoughtful consid- eration of these facts, that the religion of the day, instead of being the pure religion taught and lived by Jesus Christ, which consists simply in a life of brotherly love, — is a complicated and perplex- ing system, which requires for its support and defence all the cumbrous and destructive machinery of the state, — and not only of the state, but of corporate power in all its departments. My attention was drawn to this subject by an article in a recent number of the Salem Register, on the subject of " American Missionaries abroad." The object of the article was to inform the people of the important fact that the honorable Caleb Gushing of Newburyport, Mass., late "political Missionary to China, had fallen in with the religious Missionaries to that benighted coun- try, and, since his return, had given them a good round puff. — The Register grows warm on the subject, and says of these Amer- ican Missionaries, that the " places of diplomacy and power are resounding with their praise ! " In confirmation of these high- sounding laudations, the Register quotes a letter from " Lord 5 26 THE PIONEER. Stanley, the British Secretary of State," who says, among other things, speaking of the Mission in the Northern province of Cey- lon : — " It is impossible to doubt that the establishment of the mission has been of essential service to the diffusion of education and a knowledge of Christ- tianity in the district where its labors have been employed. I trust that the mission will be encouraged to proceed in their interesting work, and I shall at all times be happy to take into favorable consideration any proposition which you may .feel it necessary to make to me for their protection, or assis- tance. Now who supposes that the " British Secretary of State " cares a straw about the religion of Jesus Christ, which, if faithfully administered, would sweep the British Government to perdition ? And what inference must we draw from the fact that the profes- sors of that religion accept the proffered " protection and assis- tance " of " my Lord Stanley? " In the name of all that is decent and humane, what kind of a religion is in unison with the blood- thirsty despotism of Great Britain, and which, through her lordly Secretaries, she offers to protect and assist ? Is it the christian religion ? Think you if the Missionaries on " Ceylon's isle " preached Christianity, — i. e. — peace, brotherly love, humanity,— that the " British Secretary of State " would offer to protect or assist them ? No. The smell of gun powder would mingle with the " spicy breezes " which " blow soft " over that beautiful " isle," as soon as he could get a fleet there,— and every christian settle- ment would be blown to atoms. John Bull knows what he is about. And when his " Secretary of State " volunteers to " take into favorable consideration any proposition which religious Missionaries may feel it necessary to make to him for protection or assistance," he knows what he is about too. It's a game of mutual "protection and assistance." John Bull wants to be defended with Yankee prayers, and Yankee^ Missionaries want to be defended with British powder. It is absolutely necessary to the existence of the British government, that, with all its plunder- ing rapacity, with all its heartless barbarities, it should be consid- ered a christian government. And so it hires Yankee Mission- THE PIONEER. 27 aries (among others) to baptize it in the christian name, and offers "protection and assistance" in pay. The people can only be kept in subjection to British Secretaries, and British Queens, by the strong aid of the religious sentiment, — and so the priesthood of all nations is bribed to go into copartnership with them, and share the plunder. But the point 1 had in my mind at starting, was the singular fact, that modern Christianity gloats over testi- monials to her fidelity from such creatures as Lord Stanley and Caleb Gushing ! Jesus Christ isn't a circumstance to the British Secretary of State, and the great American Ambassador to China ! So the religionists think ! Just look at it. The Register pre- faces the complimentary letter of the British Secretary of State, with the following remarks : — " The following honorable testimony to the faithfulness and intelligence of our American- Missionaries, from the highest official source in Christen-lom, is both gratifying and just. Science, literature, and commerce have never possessed more laborious and faithful servants than these same men ; and while the places of diplomacy and power are resounding with their praise, they should not be forgotten in the prayers and alms of Christians, whose pecu- liar servants they are." The humble religion of the " meek and lowly Jesus," advo- cated by " the highest official source in Christendom ! " Never, gentlemen, never. As a funny friend of mine would say " tou- jour s jamais, toujours jamais,'' — always never, always never. — Just think of the " places of diplomacy and power resounding with the praise " of the ministers of the gospel of peace ! Out upon such nonsensical jargon. And yet — mark my word — the fulsome certificates of Lord Stanley, and Lord Cushing, will be quoted in every religious journal in the land as " external evi- dence of the truth of Christianity ! " First, Lord Stanley, — then, my Lord Cushing, — (for the Register, it will be seen, places the British official above the American) how they will travel through the evangelical press ! How they will be " press-ed " into the service of sect! Perhaps I have made too much of this matter, but I think not. The greediness with which, the church swallows down state pap, 28 THE PIONEEK. is an important fact. I contend that the religion which Humanity- needs, and is dying for, is a religion which has no alliance with " British Secretaries of State," and from which Caleh Gushing would fly as from a pestilence. The religion which gluts itself in " the uppermost room at feasts," and struts into the " highest seats in the" state and the " synagogue," is no religion for man. It may do for " Divines," and for " Reverends," and for "Amer- ican Boards," and " British and Foreign" Societies, and fat cor- porations. It may answer well enough to build churches with, and ordain priests to, — ^but poor Humanity shrinks and curls at the very mention of it. PEACE ON EARTH. Here is a noble poem from John Pierpont — one of the brightest stars in the world's firmament. I hardly dare venture a word of criticism upon so great a pro- duction, and yet that which occurs to me suggested itself so natu- rally that I cannot think it impertinent. It will be noticed that the distinguished author presents a vivid contrast between unnatural War, and natural Peace. In his delineation of War, which strikes me as one of the finest descriptive passages in the English language, he presents to us so glowing a picture of the horrors of the battle-field that we almost hear "the bursting bomb," and "the long roll of the unmuffled drum," and are half-choked with " the thick cloud sulphurous and dun, Pour'd from the hot throat of the thundering gun." After reading this, and becoming fired with indignation that Humanity should be subject to such scenes, and especially that they should be thought to comport with the " glory of God " — the mind is prepared, by way of offset and contrast, for a description THE PIONEER. 29 of a state of "peace on earth " — not literally peace on earth, wliicli the author proceeds to describe with such touching beauty and pastoral power ; not the peace of • " fields all green with growing things ; And fresh with frequent rains , " not the peace of " vineyards loaded with their purpling fruit, And meadows in their lily-spangled suit; " though this literal " peace on earth" is eloquent of the goodness and glory of God ; — ^but the mind is prepared by the context to hear sung, that " peace on earth " which was interpreted by the " starry lyres " as meaning " good will to man." Had our noble bard described this "good will," this peace among the discordant elements of the soul ; had he sung, in this connexion, of the sweet society of childhood — the serene life of virtuous age — the beauties of a happy home — the glorious mag- nanimity of a forgiving spirit — or even the peaceful battle in which good overcomes evil ; in other words, had the " dove-winged con- victions " of the author brought to him the olive branch of peace among the children of wzera, — and bade him sing its praises, as well as that peace among the children of the earth, which he has so " gloriously " sung, — ^what a contrast had he given us to his dread battle-scene ! But as friend Pierpont's ark is still tossing about on the waves of contention — ^perhaps the messenger bird has n't carried him the olive branch yet. When it does, or rather when he has left the ark, and set up hia tabernacle on the very Mount of Olives — then he will chaunt the praises of " good will to men " as eloquently as he has sung of " peace on earth." The following characteristic notice of this great poem is from the brilliant pen of Nathaniel P. Rogers, editor of The Herald of Freedom. " 'Peace on Earth.' The graphic and golden-lyred author seems to adopt the good natured motto from long winged messengers from the starry firma- ment. I think the firmament of his own bosom — not star-lit but sun-lit — 30 THE PIONEER. if he would but recognize it (as he does recognize it, notwithstanding,) is the real fountain and original of this great sentiment, and that the ' Angels ' who proclaimed it to him were his own dove-winged convictions of heart. I think we are all in the habit of laying too much to the sky. Humanity — or love to human kind, (and all kind) Human love I mean, the kind that helps whoever and whatever needs help — it hasn't its home in the cold blue heavens — or any where off the earth where mankind roam, and where human hearts are beating. Here Love has its home, like the Love of the Ettrick Shepherd's ' Bird of the wilderness,' — ^it is ' on Earth,' — though its ' lay is in heaven.' It is no great matter where Love comes from — so that we have it, and show it. Yet I think we ought to be careful about too much of this moral star-gazing. Let astronomy look up — and 'lift the long tube.' Humanity, Divinity, or whatever name you call it — it seems to me has never occasion to. All its gazes should be horizontal, — sloping downwards if any way, — with its ear bent in that direction, to ' catch ' its own ' ground- cry.' " PEACE ON EAETH. BY JOHN PIEKPONT. " Peace on Earth ! " — the starry lyres That Judah's shepherds heard at night. When, far above them, angel quires Hung hymning, and a sudden light Fringed all the clouds with gold, , That round the "heavenly vision " roUed — Those starry lyres, that told Of a Redeemer's birth. Made this their burden — " Peace on Earth ! " Those golden lyres, by angels strung, And attuned to angel ears. With yet another burden rung In accord with hymning spheres ; Those awe-struck shepherds, gazing up again. In words distinct and bold, From lyres and lips that rolled. And the Redeemer's message told. That other burden heard—" Good will to men!' Yes, and one heavenly burden more,— The burden tUat good spirits love to bear,— THE PIONEEK. 31 That angel-anthem earthward bore, And its sweet tones filled all the holy air. "Glory to God!" — The lowliest and nighest, As well as the remotest of the quire, Their lips all glowing with a seraph's fire. Sang " To onu God be qlory in the highest!" Their message to the up-gazing shepherds given, Breaking the solemn silence of the night, Those sons of music, holiness, and light. In sweet society retired into the depths of heaven. " Glory to God ! " — To Him doth glory come From the death-Shock of armies, met in battle, Where his own children lie, like butchered cattle. In hecatombs around a bursting bomb ? Or in the thick cloud sulphurous and dun. Poured from the hot throat of a thundering gun, As if to hide its murders from the sun ? Where the long roll of the unmuffled drum, And the shrill shrieking fife. Drown the loud curse — the groan — The prayer of the down-trodden ones — the moan Of faintly ebbing life,--^ The yell of dying horses, that are crushing Their riders under them — the jeer — the flouting Of hostile squadrons at each other rushing — "The thundering of the captains and the shouting ? " To Him who from his goodness draws his bliss, Cometh there " glory," from a scene like this ? No ! But from fields all green with growing things, And fresh with frequent rains. From pastures round whose ever flowing springs. Cattle are grouped in summer : — from broad plains Yellow with harvest, that the breathing West As o'er them it goes, Heaves like an infant's or an ocean's breast, Just sinking to repose ; — From vineyards loaded with their purpling fruit. Quietly basking on their sunny slopes, From meadows in their lily spangled suit, From orchards fragrant with their blooming hopes, And from the constant babble of the brook, 32 THE PIONEER. That dashes down amongst its mossy rocks Where the lone patient angler throws his hook, And from the panting flocks, Gathered for washing on its grassy side, And as they issue dripping from its tide — From the loud bleatings of o'er anxious dams. And from the ready answer of their lambs, And from the shout and the loud laugh of men. In time of vintage or of "harvest home," In toil and health, rejoicing even as when Beneath the leafy and o'er-arching dome Of Paradise, did Love with Joy and Plenty, roam — From peaceful scenes, like these, unknown to story, Yet not the less enjoyed, to God there cometh " glory." And from a world, that, like a wayward child, A father's guiding care, and love, hath spumed, And sought its pleasures in the dens defiled. Where Luxury and Lust their victims burned On Belial's altar ; but shall have returned With bitter tears and a repentant sigh, From the far country where it has sojourned, Envying the very tenants of the sty. There shall the highest Glory come to God most high. For in a world thus reconciled to God, Nor din of arms, nor " garments rolled in blood," Shall shock the peaceful soul. The oppressor's rod Shall he lay down; and where abhorred he stood. Loved shall he stand ; for in fraternal mood Shall he embrace the brother he oppressed. Each find his joy in doing others good ; Man reckon him the greatest who is best, And God be glorified when all on earth are blessed. THE PIONEER. 33 LETTER FROM NANTUCKET. Since I left L3nin to make my long anticipated visit to my island-home, and while I have been in the full enjoyment of its innumerable delights, it has occurred to me frequently, and with great force, that most of us vastly underrate the advantages of social intercourse. I am more and more convinced, every day, that it needs only for us human people to come into more frequent contact with each other, in order to melt our icy hearts, and strengthen a thousand fold our mutual attachment. This is especially true of those of us who are engaged in popular reforms. We are so accustomed to look on the dark side of humanity, that we forget it has any other, — so busy in detecting and exposing the spots on the sun, that we see nothing else, and so lose the benefit, to a great extent, of its genial rays. Finding a man, or a sect, or a nation, guilty of some great sin, — and bent, as we should be, on its instant extermination, we are unmindful, as we should not be — that alike the man, the sect, and the nation, have many virtues, to acknowledge and be grateful for which, is indispensa- ble to any healthful success. We thus become captious and cold- hearted, and lose all delicacy and beauty of character. We become forgetful of our own frailties and fallibilities, (at least I can speak for one,) and become morose, uncharitable, tyrannical, and dogmatic. We get in the habit of establishing innumerable tests — a new one every moon — and, with a strange forgetfulness of our changeling history, submit every man's head to the block, vvhose " developments " vary the slightest shade from our own. Our tempers thus become soured, and our whole system so disarranged, that it is dangerous to touch us on any point, lest we explode. Such is the inevitable tendency of confining our attention exclusively, or mainly, to ferreting out our neighbor's sins, and taking no thought of his virtues. — Another tendency of such a habit of mind, — a tendency even more palpable and pernicious 6 34 THE PIONEER. than that just alluded to— is to make us at best but " splendid negations," and too often mere antagonists. While in this state, we pull down much faster than we build up, — and leave things " without form and void." We trample on the religious prejudi- ces of the community with crushing tread, and, instead of furnish- ing a proper substitute, leave in the disordered mind a "vacuum" which all " nature abhors." We drive man from the tottering walls which nevertheless afford some shelter, and compel him to " bide the peltings of the pitiless storm," without a roof to his head or a hearth to his feet. We despoil his sanctuary of its household gods, — and leave him in that most desolate of condi- tions, — "without God in the world." We make him suspect and desert his present friends, and then turn him loose' on society, friendless and forlorn. We make him dissatisfied with " the life that now is," and give him no ernest of " a better life which is to come." We curse his stars, and furnish him with no sun. We block up the path he is now travelling, and leave him, without chart or compass, to reach the promised haven as best he may. This is the necessary (because natural) course of all those (and I am quite disposed to speak of them in the first person) who dwell so much upon the diseases of the world, as to have little time to study out the remedies. It is to no purpose, and worse than no purpose, that you con- vince me that I am sick, if you at the same time provide me with no cure. It is in vain — yea it is mere " vanity and vexation of spirit" — for you to find fault with the present " house I live in," yet give me no hint of a better. — And so far as I have treated any one thus, I have treated him most basely, — not indeed with base intent, but nevertheless with a base result. If — to use a coarse comparison — if you would prevent your dog from gnawing a hard and fleshless bone, and to this end endeavor to snatch it from him by main force, he will resist to the last, and you shall not succeed without a most ignoble battle in which, most probably, you will be the principal loser. But if, ihstead of pursuing a course so obviously unwise, you simply THE PIONEER. 35 procure a giece of wholesome meat, and offer that to your dog, he will instantly leave the bone, and with many a cheerful wag of his tail, (pardon my minuteness of detail,) partake gratefully of the unctuous substitute. So with society. It will snap at you with the fury of an enraged mastiff if you so much as touch the marrowless bone upon which it has been so long sharpening its teeth without satisfying its appetite ; but if you approach it gently, with " food convenient for " it, and offer that, to appease at once its anger and its appetite ; though you may at first be rejected, soon- er or later the " bone of contention " will be laid aside, and the " bread of life " eagerly sought for. All this may look to my readers very like a confession, while tQ some it will seem like " taking the back track." Be this as it may, I have been unpacking my mind of its latest thoughts, and laying them before you with the frankness and freedom of a child. They were suggested by a pretty free intercourse for the last two weeks with these who differ widely from me in opinion and prac- tice, but who are bound to me as with hooks of steel, by the enduring ties of early association, and, I should add, long years of useful and honorable employments. They shared with me the joys and sorrows of boyhood, and though, as we approached to manhood, our paths widely diverged, we now meet and mingle together like two truant streams which own the same source, and rejoice, once more, after meandering through many a sunny vale, and escaping from many a dreary wood, to run for a while in the same channel. I came here with the dust of the battle-field upon my sandals, and its sweat upon my brow, to seek relief and recreation ; and I have found it in the sweet society of these loving friends. — Some of them I expected to see as much as the old time-worn and care-worn homestead, — while others came upon me with that agreeable surprise which a lover of nature feels, when, in his wan- derings in some accustomed haunt, he discovers a favorite flower which had not blossomed in his path since the years of childhood. Communion with these spirits has softened— perhaps only fop a 36 THE PIONEER. time — the asperities of my nature (or position) and fixed my eyes so intently upon the bright tints in the great picture of life, that its deep shades have escaped my eye almost entirely, and I am half resolved, like the cheerful dial, to record " only the hours which are sunny." Verily it is good for our poor race that its scattered members take down (or leap over) the bars which society has put up be- tween them, and enjoy the luxury — for say what we will it is a luxury — of a good hearty embrace. For then, " Hand locked in hand, heart locked in heart ; " forgetting all injuries, and remembering all benefits ; burying the weapons of war beneath the olive-branch of peace, and " soothing ourselves with pleasant loves " beneath its quiet shade ; we shall soon be united by that unity of spirit which, as it is the only bond of purity, is also the " only bond of peace," (all other bonds are but as ropes of sand which cannot endure, or as bonds of iron which ought not to.) And to remove these bars of which I have spoken, and ensure the " heavenly union " which I have so faint- ly foreshadowed, it is well, as often as is consistent with other duties, to travel out of the narrow circuit of one's place of resi- dence, whether it be a city or a hamlet, and enlarge and elevate the mind by intercourse with those whom we call " strangers," — and especially those whose habits of mind and life diflTer widely from our own. This will be sure to deepen and widen the chan- nel of our thought, and enlarge the circle of our affections. It will prevent " lands intersected by a narrow frith " from " abhor- ring each other," and " mountains interposed " will no longer " make enemies of nations." " The lion and the leopard " — now at relentless war — will "lie down together," and the "little child" — now a victim of both — " shall lead them." Men will quit this marching about the country in battle array, while their swords will be beaten into ploughshares, and their spears into pruning hooks. And I believe these long arms which the city is extend- ing to the country, and the country is reaching back to the city, are daily and hourly drawing the hearts of men more nearly THE PIONEER. 37 together, and leading them rapidly toward this happy result. Every car which courses over our railroads is a " car of emanci- pation," — ^hastening with the speed of light to release men from the thraldom of " state lines " and national prejudices. Every time you lessen the distance between the Old World and the New by those mighty engines, which from the way they devour space should seem to live on it, you lessen the chance of war, or, in other words, teach the people the great lesson of human bro- therhood. You thus bring folks so near together that they can't fight. You make friends of them. Humanity is being steamed out of its jealousies and enmities. And when you have brought the two worlds — the mother and her daughter — a little nearer together, so they can kiss each other, they will give up " preparing for war," and there will be no kill- ing, except of fatted calves for the festival. BE PATIENT. BT THE EDITOR OF TBE DCBUH NATIOIf. Be patient, Oh, be patient ! Put your ear against the earth ; Listen there how noiselessly the germ o' the seed has birth ; How noiselessly and gently it upheaves its little way, Till it parts the scarcely broken ground, and the blade stands up in the day ! Be patient, Oh, be patient ! The germs of mighty thought Must have their silent undergrowth, must under ground be wrought ; Bat as sure as ever there's a Power that makes the grass appear. Our land shall be green with Libestt, the blade time shall he here. Be patient, Oh, be patient ! Go and watch the wheat-ears grow ! So imperceptibly, that ye can mark nor change, nor throe ; Day after day— day after day, till the ear is fully grown ; And then, ^ain, day after day, till the ripened field is brown. Be patient, Oh, be patient! Though yet our hopes are green, The harvest-fields of Freedom shall be crowned with the sunny sheen : Be ripening! be ripening! mature your silent way. Till the whole broad land is tongued with fire, on Freedom's harvest day ! 38 THE PIONEER. THE TRUE SPIRIT OF REFORM. I have just returned from a. delightful visit to my island home, and re-entered upon my duties with a recruited body, and a refresh- ed spirit. I think the visit did me good. I know it did. It in- creased my faith— it broadened my vision — and brightened my sight. Intercourse with enlightened minds and generous spirits, whose path was once parallel with mine, and in some instances almost identical, but who, driven by the varying winds and tides of life, have been for the last few years sailing over far different waters, and visiting remote channels and coasts, — such intercouse, of which I partook freely and largely, did much to elevate my ideas of right, and enlarge my ideas of duty. It enabled me to see more distinctly than hitherto, not only their errors, (i. e. the errors of the friends alluded to) and the errors of community, — but my own, and those of my co-workers and associates. It revealed to me, especially, the danger and moral death which must inevitably be the fate of those who, assuming to themselves immunity from error, proceed to dogmatize and trifle about matters concerning which, to say the least, there is room for an honest difTerence of opinion. And, moreover, it unsealed my eyes to the conscious- ness that a man may err in judgment, and by the strength of his social feelings, and the wonderful power of his religious associa- tions, be drawn aside from the straight and narrow path of the highest wisdom — which " but few " ever " enter " — and still be, in many respects, a kind, afTectionate, and noble spirit. This fact we have too often overlooked, and finding men sluggish, or stu- pid even, in their approach to what seemed to us the absolute truth, have often, in impatience of spirit, and blindness of zeal, used language which, as no man can honorably listen to or be in- fluenced by, so no one can honorably use. I have two motives for turning my columns into a confessional to " this extent " (" no more") :— first, because I was impelled to by a strong sense of justice : — second, because I am getting more THE PIONEER. 39 and more afraid, daily and hourly, of being associated, in the minds of my readers, with that class of persons, who — to use a rather hackneyed comparison — have their Procrustean .beds on which they measure every man, shortening him by the knife or lengthening him by the rope, as he happens to exceed, or fall with- in, their iron standard. I believe in progress — ^infinite progress ; and with this belief, must of necessity,-be very suspicious of those who boast, either by doubtful words or obvious actions, that they are perfect. There are men who were never known to acknowl- edge themselves in the wrong — whose self-esteem towers up over their intellectual domain to such a height, as to throw reason, con- science, reverence, and — as an almost inevitable consequence — truthfulness, even, completely into the shade. Such persons, es- pecially when spurred on by a brisk combati veness, are incapable of seeing the least good in, or doing the least justice to, and enemy. When this class of mind gets into the reform ranks, it may be bold, intrepid, uncompromising, but it is also rude, boastful, unfair, and unforgiving. It has no magnanimity, no charity, no love, — but is captious, cold-hearted, and hateful, and soon becomes mo- rose and misanthropic. Now the true spirit of reform, if my present apprehension of it is right, while it is brave is also generous ; while it is uncomprom- ising is also charitable ; while it is dignified is also humble ; while it is almost impetuous is yet civil ; while it has the wisdom of a serpent has also the harmlessness of a dove. It has the keenest perception of wrong, and is as alive to the touch of vice as the ^olian harp to the slightest breath of air, — and yet has a compas- sion for tjie victim of vice co-extensive with his desolation of spir- it and sadness of soul. While it has thunders of denunciation for sin in high places, and makes the high priests of politics and reli- gion astonished at its reproof, it has also the gentlest notes of min- gled encouragement and admonition for the , debased subjects of this dreadful priestcraft, and a kindly ear for all their complaints. While it has no sympathy with the bastard religion of this coun- try, which has a shade and shelter fojc every vice within the broad 40 THE PIONEER. pale of fashionable practice, and impiously baptises the dreadful systems of war and slavery in the name of the Lord Jesus, — ^it nurses the religious sentiment itself with tender care, and protects it with a watchful eye and jealous hand from everything which would weaken or impair it. Such, in brief, is my view, this morning, of the spirit of reform. It strikes me, now, that.it is broad enough to satisfy all those who have enough of moral perception to discover, and enough of moral courage to embrace the simple principles of the New Testament, or rather the principles of that pure instinct which dates its exist- ence far back to the childhood of the race, and out of which as its purest embodiment, sprang the New Testament. , .MODERN CHRISTIANITY. WRITTEN FOU THE "LIBERTY BELL." One may not, in these days, confess Christ before men, without many a careful qualification; for, to be a Christian, in the minds of a large majority of the community, is to be a supporter, direct- ly, of every sin within the broad pale of fashionable practice. Nay, more; a conscientious man may well explain, in these de- generate times, his belief in a God, before he asserts it very boldly in the presence of a mixed audience ; for the God of this nation, (if not of all nations,) is a God who has a complacent smile for all degrees of moral obliquity which are not in disfavor with the ever-shifting majority. That Being before whom angels bow and archangels veil their faces, and in whose sight the very heav- ens are unclean, is to this people an unknown God, and has no part nor lot in its "ever-hlessed Trinity." The triune divinity of this nation is the President, the Senate, and the House of Repret sentatives. So inverted an order of things prevails in this country, that the name Infidel has become transfigured from its original and repul- sive meaning into a term of the holiest significance. To be an infidel now, is to hide the outcast, to unbind the heavy burthen, THE PIONEER, 41 to open the prison door, to give wings to the hunted fugitive, to come out from iniquitous institutions, to let the oppressed go free. To be persecuted for righteousness sake is considered proof posi- tives of the grossest atheism, while to be upheld by the pfaises of a wicked and adulterous generation is to give certain evidence of the new birth ! To advocate doing unto others as we would that they should do unto us, is to incur the charge of being mere ab- stractionists ; and to preach the doctrine " be ye perfect, even as your Father in Heaven is perfect," is to subject yourself to the coarsest ribaldry ! To advocate entire reliance upon the arm of God, and to proclaim Christ as the noblest of Eeformers, because his faith was not in principalities and powers, but in the omnipo- tence of Truth and Love, is to be a no«government-man and a French Revolutionist ! — and if you so much as intimate the pro- priety of returning good for evil, you shall be reckoned as Anti- Christ himself. To preach the antiquated doctrine, that " where the spirit of the Lord is there is liberty," and to hold our religious and political institutions to this test, is to be an advocate of down- light mobocracy — and to demand for poor dis-»zaw-tled humanity free thought, free speech, and free worship, is thought seriously to endanger the throne of the Omnipotent ! To assert that the Sab- bath was made for man, and not man for the Sabbath, and there- fore that it is lawful to do well on that day, is to be a contemner of God's laws and a despiser of his institutions ; and any practi- cal enforcement of that doctrine is treated as a crime, in compari- son with which the selling of men and women at auction, and the ruptuxing of the bonds of marriage are cardinal virtues ! To rep- resent it as any part of a clergyman's duty to labor in behalf of such secular and Nazarene enterprises as Temperance, Anti-Sla- very, Peace, or Chastity, is shuddered at, (not without reason,) as endangering the " brotherhood " itself; while tb deny the divinity of this hungry locustary is nothing short of rank blasphemy ! Such is a picture, hastily composed, of the religion of this na- tion — and, strangely enough, it passes quite generally for the re- ligion of Christ ! It would seem that God had sent the people a 7 42 THE PIONEER. strong delusion, that they might believe a lie. One in the least acquainted with the genius of Christianity must be struck with a surprise bordering on horror, to hear a community to which the above strictures apply calling itself by the name of Christ, while he will look upon the fact that its church and clergy have assumed that sacred name, as setting the limits to human assurance. A friend said to me a few days since, that the terms christian, and pious, and Godly, and the like, having undergone a radical change in their signification, we ought, as Reformers, to repudiate their application to us or our enterprise, as a gross indignity, and adopt the name of infidel, as the most honorable appellation ex- tant. There was a spice of good sense in the suggestion, and I sympathized with the spirit which dictated it. But I think it is due to the age in which we live — an age surpassing the Lutheran in searching scrutiny and bold exposure — to pursue an opposite course, until we have compelled the "long, low, piratical looking craft," which infests our seas under the deceptive name of "The Church," to strike the white flag of Christianity, which it has dared to place at its mast-head, and run up the bloody banner of the Bucaneer ! Long enough have the Scribes and Pharisees of our time cov- ered their nakedness with the graceful drapery of a Christian pro- fession. True, it • sits loose upon them, Like a giant's robe upon a dwarfish thief;"— but the people have been so long accustomed to consider the poor rattling skeleton which is hid in the folds of that robe, as the true body of Christ, that it is hard to undeceive them. Nevertheless, or rather all the more, the work should be done. Until this is done, the cause of Reform will continue to Ian-, guish. But do this— dethrone the pro-slavery priesthood of Ame-. rica, and its cannibal god— and Humanity wiU spring to her feet with the alacrity of youth ; the cords of oppression, which have ' worn deep into her quivering flesh, will be, snapped asunder; the clouds of superstition, which have for so long a time obscured THE PIONEER. 43 the light of reason, will be scattered, and righteousness will cover the land as the waters cover the sea. To accomplish all this, it is mainly necessary that in our lives and conversations we illustrate the life-giving energy and purify- ing influences of the Reform movement. Let this be done. Let the people see that all the ways of Reform are ways of pleasant- ness, and all her paths are peace ; — not that pleasantness which is but the reflection of the lascivious smiles of public opinion, not that peace which takes no thought of purity, but that pleasantness and peace which have their beautiful emblem in the great heart of old Ocean, which, alike in the wildest storms and the serenest calms, remains ever in undisturbed serenity. Show the people this, prove to them how perfect the harmony between the essen- tial principles of true Reform and the divine life of Jesus ; con- trast the barren ceremonials and creaking performances of the Church with the healthful exercises of a benevolent life ; — and ere long you shall see the people flock to our cause like the army of birds, which every winter leave behind them the naked forests and ice-clad mountains of the North, for the sunny plains and fragrant gardens of the South. A PSALM OF LIFE. BY HENBT W. LOKSFELLOW. Tell 'me not in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream ! For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real— life is earnest— And the grave is not its goal, Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Is our destined end or way ; But to act, that each to-morrow Finds us farther than to-day. 44 THE PIONEER. Art is long aad time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave. Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave. In the world's broad field of battle, In the bivoD,ac of Life, Be not like dumb, driven cattle ! Be a hero in the strife ! Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant ! Let the dead Past bury its dead ! Act — act in the glorious Present ! Heart within, and God o'er head ! Lives of aH great men remind us We can make our livSs sublime, And, departing, leave behind us Footsteps on the sands of time. Footsteps, that perhaps another. Sailing o'er life's solemn main, A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, Seeing, shall take heart again. Let us then be up and doing. With a heart for any fate ; Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn to labor and to wait. THE PIONEER. 45 A HARMLESS SOLDIERY. The good people of Nantucket never had the military disease but once, and then they " took it kindly," as some folks do the small pox. That exception is curious enough . to record. A few years since a number of her public-spirited youths feeling the need of more elegant amusement than their homely town aiTorded, and feeling, possibly, a little desire to imitate the natives " on the continent," resolved to form themselves into a military corps. — They accordingly sent to Boston, or some other wonderful place, for a due supply of " shooting irons," cutlasses, tail-feathers, patent leather boxes, (to put their heads in,) blank-cartridges, (and boxes to put them in,) &c. &c. &c. The articles arrived " in good order and well conditioned," — and the enthusiastic young men, — guiltless as yet of all military glory, and green as grass on all military aflfairs, (with one or two ripe exceptions,) — proceeded to " organize" themselves with all dispatch. One of the first things to be done was to " frame a constitution ; " fox a body without a constitution is as ungainly as a neck without a collar. After long, patient, and prayerful consideration, they at last adopted one, worthy of a Jefferson. It will be impossible in this brief paper to give the curious (and, as I trust, by this time impatient) reader Iftit one article of this solemn instrument; but that shall be the first one, both in order and importance, and will serve as WeE, perhaps, as a greater number, to convey an idea of the burning patriotism and bloody intent of these embryo soldiers. It is very laconic, and reads thus : Aexicle 1st. In case of war this company shall disband. The further history of this corps is hidden in the womb of oblivion. Those bran new, and possibly bran-stuffed, coats never took public possession of one of the citizens, — nor were any of their heads ever taken cap-tive by those formidable looking caps. The bayonets never kept any one at bay — and the only time the guns ever " went off" they forgot to come back again, though, as 46 THE PIONEER. It seemed from the constitution, they were enlisted in a war from which there was to be " no discharge ! " The cutlasses never " cut " any of us — ^lads or " lasses" — but once, and then they " cut us " for good, — a kind of cutting not supposed to be within their province. And thus ended the military experience, of Nantucket, — and her citizens quietly resumed their pacific business, viz : — fitting whale-ships for the Pacific ocean. The truth is, the humanity of this hardy people is too near " high water mark " to admit of their becoming " amateur butchers," — as a friend of mine calls soldiers — and their habits of independence are altogether too well estab- lished to allow of their wearing " uniforms," or wading through our heavy sands at the bidding of an epaulette. They have feathers enough in their caps now, without stealing any from the tails of birds, or manufacturing any from cotton wool ! And for their bravery, let the great whales answer, — and the insurgent ocean ! They are skilled above all other people in harpooning the monsters of the sea, — ^but come to harpooning their equal brothers, and hurling their bright lances into the breasts of their sisters, — they are fortunately ill adapted for any such war. And I trust they will never " go into " any such without taking a most apostolic care to " count the cost." It so happens that the isolated position of Nantucket renders it absolutely necessary that it should always remain neutral, — so that any military schooling, to teach the inhabitants the art of murder, would be utterly useless. THE PIONEER. 47 TO THE UNSATISFIED. BY BAKRIET WINSLOW. Why thus longing, why for ever sighing For the far-off, unattained and dim ; While the beautifal, all around thee lying, Offers up its low perpetual hymn ? Wonld'st thou listen to its gentle teaching, All thy restless yearnings it would still ; Leaf and flower, and laden tee are preaching, Thine own sphere, though humble, first to fill. Poor Indeed thou must be, if around thee Thou no ray oi light and joy can'st throw. If no silken cord of love hath bound thee To some little world, 'through weal and wo ; If no dear eye thy fond love can brighten, No fond voices answer to thine own ; If no brother's sorrow thou can'st lighten, By daily sympathy and gentle tone. Not by deeds that win the world's applauses ; Not by works that give thee world-renown ; Nor by martyrdom, or vaunted crosses, Can'st thou win and wear the immortal crown. Daily struggling, though unloved and lonely, Every day a rich reward will give ; Thou wilt find, by hearty striving only. And truly loving, thou can'st truly live. Dost thou revel in the reey morning. When all nature hails the lord of light. And his smUe, the mountain-tops adorning, Kobes yon fragrant fields in radiance bright ? Other hands may grasp the field and forest. Proud proprietors in pomp may shine ; Bui with fervent love, if thou adorest. Thou art wealthier— all the world is thine ! 48 THE PIDNEEE. Yet, if through earth's wide domains thou revest, Sighing that they are not thine alone, Not those fair fields, but thyself thou lovest, And their beauty, and thy wealth are gone. Nature wears the color of the spirit ; Sweetly to her worshipper she sings ; All the glow, the grace she doth inherit, Bound her trusting child, she fondly flings. HOW TO KEEP LENT. BY KOBEKT HEREICK. Is this a Fast, to keep The larder lean. And clean From fat of neats and sheep ?- Is it to quit the dish Of flesh, yet still To fill The platter high with fish? Is it to fast an hour. Or ragg'd to go, Or show A downcast look and sour? No :— 'Tis a fast to dole Thy sheaf of wheat And meat Unto the hungry soul. It is to fast from strife. From old debate And hate ; To circumcise thy life; To shew a heart grief-rent ; To starve thy sin, Not iin ; And thal's to keep thy Lent ! THE PIONEER. 49 WASHINGTONIANISM IN CONNECTION WITH OTHER REFORMS. What is the reason that so many Washingtonians are afraid of all other reform movements besides their own ? Whence so much jealousy ? Are not all reforms kindred ? Can you work for one without preparing yourself to work for all ? If your zeal in the Washingtonian cause springs from a heart full of love for your race, will not the same heart prompt you to engage in every humane work ? Is there not an essential unity in all the great movements for the elevation of man ? These questions are of vital importance, and ought to be con- sidered carefully by every philanthropist, whatever his particular sphere. They are of especial pertinence at the present time, es- pecially to Washingtonians, who are just now on the eve of a great crisis. The career of the Washingtonian reform has been brilliant beyond all parallel, and its prominent advocates are quite intoxicated with their success. Hence their danger. While they were few and humble — while the rich and influential affected to look down upon them, and they had to meet in small rooms and " upper chambers " — they were safe. But now that they are covered with the blandishments of the world, now that their praise is on all lips, and even the priests — the very last who ever see good out of their own ranks — are seeking for some of the lau- rels of victory, there is danger that they (the Washingtonians) may become as time-serving and corrupt as the church. The only thing which can save them from this state is an enlarged idea of their duties. They must learn to feel that fidelity to their great principle requires of them to enlist in every band of Re- formers, and to shrink from no obloquy and no persecution which may be incident to such a course. They musn't trouble them- selves about their reputation. They must be willing to be made of no reputation. And, above all, they must not be afraid of in- juring one good cause by enlisting in another- Truths never 8 50 THE PIONEER. clash. Right never quarrels with right. The armies of God are never arrayed against each other. They march on together, in solid phalanx, with one banner, — the white banner of love — wav- ing over them all, and with never a doubt that the battle will be theirs. It pains me, to witness the want of faith among Wash- ingtonians whose brilliant success ought to make them faithful and hopeful above all others. They seem to be completely bewildered by their achievements, else they would jump at the chance of carrying out the principles which they have so nobly tested, into all the departments of reform. Instead of this, however, they think Washingtonianism glory enough for one man, and yet with all its glory they are afraid it will be tarnished by the least con- tact with any other ism. Now in point of fact, no class of men is so imperatively bound to join in other reforms as the Washing- tonians. The same principles which they have tried so thoroughly in the temperance movement will be found equally powerful wherever they are applied. They have done more to increase faith in Trior at power than all other classes combined. They have accomplished that in four years, by the power of truth and love, which the harsh enactments of penal law could never have ac- complished. They have vindicated the supremacy of spiritual over physical power as it was never vindicated before. Now why, in the name of all that is noble, why don't they press on- ward and continue their warfare for the race so long- as one of its enemies remain unvanquished ? They need not spend so much time taking care of their laurels — all such laurels will fade. If you would have a chaplet about your brows which shall prove perennial, you must cull its flowers from the broad field of uni- versal reform. This devotion to one idea alone, — and this cher- ishing and nursing of that idea as if it were a sick and feeble- minded child which would become diseased or depraved by com- ing in contact with any other, seems to me small business — alto- gether beneath the dignity of a man. Washingtonians ought to be ashamed of it. THE PIONEER. 51 REACTION. There is reason to hope that the raging fires of intemperance will soon be quenched. And yet there is always fear of reaction. It seems to follow, as the night the day, — on the heels of every reform. The fire which to-day seems smothered, leaps forth with fresh fury to-morrow, and almost consumes our zeal. You have, perhaps, been present at a large conflagration. If so, you have been intensely excited by the struggle of the elements — the fire and water contending for mastery. At one time the maddened flames seem subdued and swallowed up, — the wearied firemen suspend their labors, — the shouts of the multitude rend the air with the cry of " all out," — ^when lo I — they burst forth with added fiiry, and, like so many fiery spirits, dance in mockery over the smoking ruins. But the invincible arm of man is again at work — the aspiring flames are once more covered as it were with " repentant ashes " — ^we feel that now the victory is won — we turn homeward — when lo the flame, like Milton's Satan, " With fresh alacrity and force renewed Springs upward — a pyramid of fire— Into the wild expanse ; and through the shock Of fighting elements, on all sides round Environed, wins his way." Not dissimilar to me seems the course of the temperance reform. Its progress has never been steady. At one time, when the old Temperance societies were in their glory, the cause went bravely on. Thousands were reclaimed. The air was coined into sweet music by the song of the reformed. From Maine to Louisiana the great cause left its foot-print which the waves of eternity may not obliterate ; and the echoes of the AUeghanies, ceased not to answer night nor day to the thanksgivings of them that were saved. But there came a reaction. Many of the societies became "Extinct with scarce a show of dying." Designing, politicians laid their unholy hands on the cause, and it withered and died at their touch. Temperance tracts, which 52 THE PIONEEK. were flying from one end of the country to the other, like birds of message, laden with the words of truth, were stopped, while yet on the wing, robbed of their message, and made the unwilling tools of crafty men. Now and then a temperance essay was read ; — ^but oftener than now and then, some office-seeker with intemperance in his heart, would take the words of temperance on his lips, and " Steal the livery of the court of Heaven, To serve the devil in." What was the consequence ? As we have said, reaction, and then, inaction. So went the matter when a few common men in Baltimore awoke from the drunkard's sleep, and awoke new men. Fired with a new spirit, the film and the beam taken from their own eye, they were inspired with the inspiration of a Paul, to rescue their lost brethren. They came forth clothed with light. They spoke as those having authority. They came with no pretension, with no flourish of trumpets, with no authority but that of truth with no eloquence but that of the heart, with no prompter but an awakened conscience ; — and, clad in the panoply of rectitude went to those who seemed to them no less fellow-men, because they had been fellow-drunkards, and besought them to reform. They touched their hearts, by telling them the secret of their hearts. They drew from the sweet and bitter waters of expe- rience. They knew where the sore was, and that there was a " balm in Gilead." They had lived the life of the sot. They had struggled in the burning maelstroom of intemperance ; they knew its horrors ; and therefore it was that they preached with power, that their words dropped like coals of fire upon the heart of the poor inebriate. " Never man spake like these men " — to them. They had been used to hard names, and inured to hard fare. They had been neglected lepers by the roadside ; and these were the only Samaritans who could bind up their wounds. These were their own brethren — flesh of their flesh as it were. Here was a good thing from Nazareth. And when the Reformed Drunkard THE PIONEER. 53 told them of the beauties of the new life, and when he bade the doubters " come and see ! " — they came. They hung upon his lips, and their hearts danced to the music of his voice, as the ocean- harp thrills to the breath of heaven. First one, then another, dashed the red cup to the earth, hoisted the white flag of temper- ance, till "Now, at last, the sacred influence of light appears, And from the walls of heaven shoots far into the bosom of the night A glimmering dawn." Let us not however mistake this dawn for day. Let us not re- lax our labors. Let us not compromise our principles. The mo- ment we lag, the moment we rest our arms, reaction will come, the storm cloud wiU again gather over our head, and we shall once more be deluged with intemperance. SONG. BY G, T. OONeDON. When the night of doubt and danger Hovers o'er my mortal state, For the possible to-morrow, I can wait, I can wait. With a heart and head God-given, With two hands at any rate, For the instant of endeavor. Need I wait, need I wait ? 'Till this discord of things human, 'Till this comedy abate Into music, into method, I can WEUt, I can wait. Character'd in letters golden, Spite of cypher-writing fete, I can read : " Emahcipatioh" ; I can wait, I can wait! 54 THE PIONEEE. THE BRIDGE OF SIGHS. BT THOMAS HOOD. One more nnfortunate, Weary of breath, Bashly importunate, Gone to her death ! Take her up tenderly, Lift her with care ; Fashioned so slenderly. Young, and so fair! Look at her garments Clinging like cerements, Whilst the wave constantly Drips from her clothing ; Take her up instantly. Loving, not loathing. Touch her not scornfully ; Think of her mournfully. Gently, and humanly ; Not of the stains of her : All that remains of her, Now, is pure womanly. Make no, deep scrutiny Into her mutiny. Bash and undutiful ; Fast all dishonor. Death has left on her Only the beautiful. Still, for all slips of hers, — One of Eve's family, — Wipe those poor lips of hers, Oozing so clammily. Loop up her tresses, Escaped from the comb, — Her fair auburn tresses ; Whilst wonderment guesses, Where was her home ? THE PIONEER. 55 Who was her father? Who was her mother? Had she a sister? Had she a brother? Or, was there a dearer one Yet, than all other? Alas, for the rarity Of Christian charily ' Under the sun ! O, it was pitiful ! Near a whole city full, Home she bad none. Sisterly, brotherly. Fatherly, motherly Feelings had changed : Love, by harsh evidence, Thrown from its eminence ; Even God's providence Seeming estranged. Where the lamps quiver So far in the river, With many a light. From window and easement. From garret to basement. She stood, with amazement. Houseless, by night. The bleak wind of March Made her tremble and shiver; Bat not the dark arch, Or the black flowing river: Mad from life's history. Glad to death's mystery, Swift to be hurled, — Anywhere, anywhere Out of the world ! In she plunged boldly, — No matter how coldly The rough river ran,— 56 THE PIONEER. Over the brink of it : Picture it, think of it, Dissolute man ! Lave in it, drink of it, Then, if you can ! Take her up tenderly. Lift her with care : fashioned so slenderly. Young, and so fair ! Ere her limbs frigidly Stiffen too rigidly. Decently, kindly. Smooth and compose them ; And her eyes, close them, Staring so blindly I Dreadfully staring Through muddy impurity, As when with the daring Last look of despairing Fixed on futurity. Perishing gloomily, Spurred by contumely, Cold inhumanity. Burning insanity, Into her rest! Cross her hands humbly, As if praying dumbly, Over her breast! Owning her weakness. Her evil behaviour ; And leaving, with meekness, Her sins to her Saviour! THE PIONEER. 57 SPIRITUAL TYRANNY. The Chaplain of the Massachusetts State Prison, whose office it has been to administer spiritual gruel to the " Convicts," and to examine the food which other persons might volunteer to furnish, having looked at that furnished by our friend Charles Spear, and found that it was altogether too nutritious for prisoners, has forbid- den them to receive any more from such hands. It might make them discontented with their position, and ungrateful for their privileges ! It would certainly unfit their stomachs for the theo- logical slops to which they had been accustomed. I think, there- fore, that the Chaplain acted wisely. His act was one of pure self-defence. Charles Spear carried those poor fellows the Gos- pel, the Glad Tidings. Their Chaplain had " filled their belly with the husks that the swine did eat ; " and he knew that if once they got the taste of any decent food, if once they heard a syllable of true doctrine, they would reject his unwholesome messes like so much poison. Why then should he not act the priest, and forbid their receiving any food except from his porringer ? People appear to be astonished at his conduct. How blind ! What is there to be astonished at? Is such tyranny confined to Prisons ? Would that it were ! It is just fitted to Prison-atmos- phere. It " wouldn't do " to preach the Gospel in a jail yard ; for the spirit of the Gospel is a spirit of freedom. The Prison is in direct opposition to the Gospel, — violating all its commands. If I were teaching convicts, therefore, I should tell them not to do another hour's work for the State. I should advise them to run away, the first chance they got. I would help them run away if I could, just as I would assist any other runaway slaves. If I could, I would leave the door open behind me, to give them a chance ; for every soul of them is wrongfully imprisoned. Two out of three, were sent there by the rumseller, and are now expiating the crimes of the rumseller. The other third are suflTering for some- 9 68 THE PIONEER. body's sins besides their own. Their Chaplain will tell you that they are suffering for Adam's sins — an J not only deserve temporary confinement, but everlasting hell-fire, because of that ante-diluvian young man's iniquities. Well, the Chaplain preaches wiser than he means : — and I am glad that he is willing to admit that, at all events, the poor fellows are not jugged for their own transgres- sions. That fact ought to be enough to blow all the prisons to fragments. I think the best thing about the popular theology is, that it traces man's iniquities back to his progenitors : and if it would only be consistent with such an opinion, it might do some good ; but the fact is, after admitting his entire innocence, after not only conceding, but contending that his iniquity is a legacy that he received direct from the great-grandfather of the human family — it then proceeds to damn him inwardly and outwardly, in this world and the next, for having dared to have such a wicked old reprobate for his ancestor ! But I have wandered. I said that the spiritual tyranny which called forth these remarks, is not confined to State Prisons. It is the natal atmosphere of our churches. A viler tyranny never crushed the spirit of man, than that of the American Priesthood. I know there are glorious exceptions ; but standing out, as these do, so prominently as " to be known of all men," they afford irrefu- table proof of my position. When I speak of the priesthood, I mean those who claim to have authority over the souls of men ; those who, like the Cen- turion, say to their hundred soldiers, Go, and they go ; Come, and they come ; and to their servants. Do this, and they do it. How many men, and especially how many women, are, all their life time subject to this bondage ! Why, the bondage which those men are under in the State's Prison, is nothing to the bondage they are under in the Chaplain's Prison. It is the parson not the turnkey, whose tread should send terror to their souls, and whose voice should sound to them, like " a voice from the tombs." If it were not for him, they would have a freedom beyond the con- straint of stone and iron, and on which no warden might turn his THE PIONEER. 59 key. If it were not for such as he, they would not be in prison. Th^ Prisons, Jails, and Insane Hospitals, look to the popular theology and its Institutions, as to the great reservoir from which they draw their supply. Once dethrone the " unknown God " which this nation worships, and every prison door would be opened, and every priestly mouth would be shut. Let us not complain, then, that the theology which furnishes the Prison cell, should also furnish the Prison altar. The Prison cell and the Prison altar are one. Let them remain so. And, meanwhile, we will protest against both Priest and Prison. How ? Simply by preaching the Gospel ; — ^by showing a more excellent way : by telling the world not to imprison its enemies, but to love them, and to feed them ; to return good for evil, blessing for cur- sing, kisses for blows ; by calling upon the people to rally round the Law of Lovk, which is the Law of God, and to refuse alle- giance to any Government, which is not based upon that. The call of the age is for such a stand. The white banner of love is now trailing in the dust, and from every citadel, waves the red flag of force. This flag must be struck, if so be, we are ready to hoist the other. Many of us are ready, and are now sailing under the Gospel Banner, acknowledging nobody's stars, and fearing nobody'? stripes ! The only star which can lead us, is the star of Bethlehem — and the only stripes which can incite us to action, are those under which humanity lies bare and bleeding. 60 THE PIONEER. CORRESPONDENCE. Perhaps the following correspondence may interest my readers enough to warrant its pablication. Mr. Hamilton is an Orthodox clergyman from Mobile, and a slaveholder. He recently preached in two or three of the Salem pulpits for the purpose of raising funds to erect a Seamen's Bethel in Mobile. My friend James P. Boyce, feeling indignant that a trafficker in human flesh should be recognized and fellowshipped as a Christian, wrote a scorching article upon the subject, which happened to reach Mr. Hamilton, and drew from him the following letter, to which I append my reply. BosToir, Sept. 24, 1844. To the Editor of the E. C. Washingtonian : — Sre : — By the politeness of W. Lawrence, Esq., of this city, 1 obtained sight of the very courteous notice of me taken in your paper of Thursday morning, Sept. 19, 1844, and headed " Orthodox Thief^Dr. Hamilton — Clerical Impu- dence." I write, therefore, to request the favor of six copies of the said paper of Sept. 19, to be sent me — directed to the care of W. W. Stone, Esq., No. 85 State Street, Boston. At any place in Boston that you may appoint, the aforesaid "Orthodox Thief," will try, for once, at least, — to pay honestly the price of the article he wishes to obtain. Your humble servant, Wm. T. Hamilton. REPLY. Ltnn, Sept. 25, 1844. SiK : — In cheerful compliance with your request I mail here- with six copies of the last Essex County Washingtonian and can- not forbear commending them to your thoughtful perusal. You seem to feel hurt that my worthy correspondent " J. P. B." should have dealt with you so roughly ; but I am sure if you knew him personally, and could appreciate the deep hatred of slavery which prompted him to speak thus plainly of the enslaver of his brothers and sisters, you could have no other feelings toward THE PIONEER. 61 him than those of respect and admiration. Jesus Christ denounced the Pharisees of old as " vipers,'' and " children of hell," and our friend " J. P. B." feels that he has yet to learn that one who, after the lapse of eighteen centuries from the birth of Christ, dares, in his name, to traffic in human flesh does not deserve epithets equally strong. The slaveholder is not more the " victim of cir- cumstances " than was the hypocritical pharisee — and doubtless those " circumstances " should be considered. But I appeal to your own sober judgment, as a man, whether if " J. P. B." held your sister in slavery, a^y circumstances would prevent your calling him a thief — and especially do I ask of you whether if the enslaver of your sister was also a professed disciple of Jesus Christ, you would not make him wither beneath the scorching power of your indignation ? I believe you would. Lay, then, all prejudice and self-interest aside, and tell me if, with a clean con- science, you can complain of a man because he denounces chattel slavery as the worst of robberies, and him who engages in it as the worst of thieves ? I would not rant. I would not be Phari- saical. I would on no account forget that you are my brother, and that, nurtured under the same baneful influences, I might myself have been a slaveholder. But these considerations do not afTect the great question of right. Slaveholding is a sin, and, like all sin, should be inmiediately abolished. Now is the accepted time. Nowhere in the scriptures which you profess to teach, do I find anything said of " gradual " repentance, or " gradual " reform. I do not feel, however, like reasoning this point. If you need to have it proved that it is wrong to hold my sister in slavery for a single second, then pardon me for saying that you must he reason-proof. You may say that you treat your slaves well, — in the dignified language of Henry Clay, that you keep them "sleek and fat." But need I say a word to strip such sophistry of its disguise, and show it up in aU its naked infamy ? I trust not. I trust you will admit that if the enslaver of your beloved mother, in reply to your indignant demand for her instant liberation, should retort, with a 62 THE PIONEER. jeer, that she was " sleek and fat," you would put the hrand of shame upon his brow " until it went hissing to the bone." Do you say that slavery is one of the legal institutions of our country, sheltered beneath the wings of her constitution, and part and parcel of her domestic policy ? Alas, my friend, this is too true. The laws which protect slavery are, in the expressive phrase of John Quincy Adams, " welded " into our constitution ! Yes, welded in, and it is to be feared no human power can extract them without breaking that instrument to fragments. Be it so then. Better tear all your written constitutions to shreds and let them be blown by the willing wind to oblivion, rather than enslave a single human being for one instant. Fiat justitia ruat ccelum. Let there be justice though the heaven falls. Is not this the lan- guage of every true heart, and has it not, therefore, passed into a proverb ? Why then stop to banter about human constitutions and laws, lest peradventure they " fall " with the progress of " justice ? " As for the " policy " of this nation, God knows it is infamous enough, and should be repudiated by every human being on the face of the earth, as unequalled, this side of hell, in refined atrocity. And I suspect, my friend, if Jonathan Walker, recently icaptured on the high seas by one of our American vessels, for assisting the " oppressed to go free," and now imprisoned in a. national dungeon in Pensacola waiting his trial for that horrible «rime, were your father, you would hate the " policy " of this slave-cursed nation as heartily as I do. Again you may say, — for some of the greatest statesmen, and ■" divines " in the country so reason, — that the " Union " is en- dangered by meddling with the peculiar institutions of the South. Grant it. But is the security of the Union to be the primary and principal, and the security of man, the secondary and collateral thing ? Was man made for the Union ? I trow not. For one, I say if the Union cannot stand except upon the necks of three millions of men and women, or upon the neck of one man or womza, let it fiill. Such a Union is a "covenant with death, and an agreement with hell." I go for the right as the only THE PIONEER. G3 safety. No argument shall delude me out of this. I shall sus- pect and repudiate your logic if it leads me to sanction the wrong, for one instant, in you, or anybody. I will not be cajoled into ele- vating the constitution of any country above the constitution of man. I go for the overthrow of everything which overthrows man, and for its immediate overthrow. I may not be able, in my weakness, to ring the complicated chain of your logic, and tell which of its links are broken. You may dazzle my intellect by a gorgeous defence of slavery and its protecting laws and con- stitutions. I may not have the skill to untie the Gordion knot with which you may join right and wrong together, nor to thread the labarynthian mazes of the theology and metaphysics which are used to confine my brother in the house of bondage. All this may bother and confound me. But when you come forth with all this heavy armor about your limls (flourishing your two edged sword ol law and logic) and challenge the armies of Israel to fur- nish a man who shall dare meet so formidable an assailant, it seems to me that even I might prove to you that a single pebble gathered upon the boundless shores of truth, is an overmatch for any weapons to be found in the armory of error. The truth is, I have unlimited faith in the right. Wrong, under whatever cir- cumstances, must fall before it^ And, therefore, weak though I am, thougli "I have neitlier wit, nor words, nor worth, Action nor utterance, nor the power of speech To stir men's blood," I am williBg, despite your superior advantages of learning and experience, to meet you in open discussion of the great question — say rather the great topic, for there is no question — of Ameri- can Slavery. But why detain you longer ? It cannot be that with all the light of the ninefeenth century streaming upon your path, that you can, for one moment, doubt that chattel slavery is one of the darkest crimes upon the page of human history. And if you do not doubt it, if you see " eye to eye " with me on this point, then 64 THE PIONEER. answer me, (I do not ask it dogmatically, but in the most friendly of spirits,) answer me how can you venture, for another moment, to continue a slaveholder ? I have scarcely alluded, in this hurried epistle, to the startling fact that you are not only a slaveholder, but also a professed min- ister of the Gospel of Christ. I have preferred to appeal to you as a man ; for I am free to say if the Gospel of Jesus Christ sanctions slavery, as many contend, I have no part nor lot with it. Therefore I rest this great subject on its own bottom, preferring to disconnect it from all scriptural disputations. / know it is wrong to buy and sell human beings, scripture or no scripture. Henry Clay and Professor Stewart to the contrary notwithstanding, / know that the law can't make you nor me a chattel, any more than it can make the infinite God a chattel. And / know, more- over, that whoever attempts the high-handed act is a traitor to humanity. Thus much I know. It is part of my very nature, a part of human nature itself, — " welded in ! " So I warn you, as you love your Bible, not to attempt to prove that it sanctions or even "winks at" chattel slavery; for if you succeed, Pll trample your Bible beneath my foot, as I would a rep- tile, and so will every man in the land who is not a dastard. Again I caution you, as you would secure the glory of your God, not to prove him to this people to be a pro-slavery" God — for if you do they'll denounce him, ere long, as out-heroding Herod, out-juggernauting Juggernaut, and out-sataning Satan in all that is inhuman and atrocious. But it is too bad, even by way of hypothesis, to speak of slavery as sanctioned by Christianity or Deity. I tell you that God Almighty has no attribute which can take sides with the oppressor. And when you enslave your brother man you enslave Jesus Christ ; for inasmuch as ye do it unto one of the least of his brethren you do it unto him. You know this as well as I. The whole Southern Church knows it, and he who attempts to bolster himself up in the crime of slaveholding under the pretence that it is agreeable to the laws of God, adds infamy to infamy, and gives THE PIONEER. 65 us another and most alarming proof, of the damning iniquity of a system which can work such an titter perversion of head and heart. I know not that I have anything to add. What I have writ- ten, though it may seem harsh, has been conceived in a kindly spirit, and brought forth in all charity and love. Receive it as the word of a brother. It may be that the time spent in writing it has been wasted, but I do not believe it. I feel that your heart will respond to nearly every word, and that your conscience will bear witness to its truth. And that it may hasten the time when you shall be able to raise an unstained hand against the institu- tion of American Slavery, or rather when that institution shall be among the things that were, is the earnest wish of Your friend and brother, Henry Clapp, Jr. Ta Wm. T. Hamiltow. SPIRITUAL LIGHT. How beautiful is the income of spiritual light into the darkened soul ! How slowly it struggles up through the mists of sensuality and sin, and how brilliant each fay which it sheds across the mind ! There is probably no happiness which we can conceive of, certainly none which we can experience, more exquisite than that which attends upon the mind whose darkness and gloom are gradually giving away before the silent influence of truth. The delightful consciousness that the clouds which for years have spanned the intellect and shrouded the spirit are one by one break- ing away, and passing into the world of shadows, is almost too great to bear. And yet this richest of earthly experiences is that of every earnest seeker for truth. No one, it is safe to say, ever bowed humbly and with a childlike trust at the shrine of infinite truth, resolved to lay all that he had, and all that he hoped, upon her altar, without being instantly conscious of the presence of the indwelling God: — and as, one by one, he laid aside his prejudices 10 66 THE PIONEER. and sins, and followed in tl^ path which she pointed out, — although he doubtless found it hedged in with difficulties, and by no means free, at times, from the sharpest pains, — he felt daily and hourly that his soul was becoming transfigured from a grov- elling earth-worm to an angel of light. But the thought which is now present to me most distinctly, is the untold joy of spiritual inception, — the distinct realization of spiritual progress, — the palpable vanishing of low and ignoble thoughts, — and the measurable increase of light and love. I wish I could define this state of mind so truly as to divert my brothers and sisters from the cheap pursuits of a selfish life to the paths of true wisdom. How a man, conscious of an immortal soul which will outUve, and may outshine the stars, can continue on, from day to day, in a life of senseless occupations, or a mere struggle for earthly gauds, utterly heedless of the deep wants of his spiritual nature, and seeking for no joy not consistent with the lowest aims, — is indeed the one mystery of life. Has "reason fled to brutish beasts ? " Is it left for the brute creation only, to perfect their being and follow out their highest instincts ; and is it destined that man should stifle the sad cry of his higher nature for food, and heed only the coarse voice of his passions ? Such, certainly, is the appearance of things. Moral and intellectual life appears to have lost its attraction — and men give the preference to the most trivial and insipid enjoyments. Oh that one ray of truth might break through into the dark cavern of their minds and gild its dank atmosphere, for a moment at least, with the light of heaven ! Poor souls, they may have been blinded so long as to be incompetent to bear the light — even a single ray. It might sear their contracted eyeballs even beyond their present darkness. And yet I have hope. I cannot, I will not believe that the human soul is to be always defrauded of her rights. I will cherish in my mind a prophesy, which shall stay there till it has become a history, that the world is about waking from her dreadful lethargy, and feeling the need of a new life. This cannot be, however, till men appreciate -the intrinsic THE PIONEER. 67 excellence of a truthful life — atid gursue it for its own sake. If they are aroused from their present torpor by simple fear — and change their course that they may escape some real or imaginary hell, — or if no glimmer of the inborn loveliness of a higher state has reached their souls, — they are yet far, very far, from the Kingdom of Heaven. They must woo virtue as a bride. They - must become moral enthusiasts. They must learn to feel that joy at the sight of a new truth in morals, which the enthusiastic florist feels at the sight of a new flower, — or rather, a joy as much greater than his as a perennial virtue is greater than a perishable flower. Once in this state of mind, and you are safe ; for I cannot think that any sane mind which has ever been deeply enamoured of Truth can cease to be her suitor. Her fascinations never lose their bewitching power. Her beauty never fades. Her resources never fail. Her love never falters. She comes to you " new every evening and fresh every morning." When least you expect it, in the hour of your greatest despondency, in the season of your bitterest affliction, the heavens suddenly open, and she descends upon you like a dove, and sends peace into your wavering spirit. In moments of dream-ful uncertainty, a new thought suddenly enters your mind — ^whence and how you cannot divine — and instantly doubts which have puzzled your intellect for years are solved, and clouds which have shaded your path from your infancy up, flap their black wings and flee. Such thoughts are the frequent visitants of every lover of Truth, and are the mes- sengers which she sends to guide him through her paths. And what welcome messengers they are! How often have they chased away some lurking fear or lingering suspicion, and as they departed shaken from their wings an incense which has been balm to the soul for years ! 68 THE PIONEER. THE BEREAVED SLAVE MOTHER. ST JESSE HUTCHINSON, JB. Oh ! deep was the anguish of the slave mother's heart, Whea call'd from her darliiig forever to part ; So grieved that lone mother, that heart broken mother, In sorrow and woe. The lash of the master her deep sorrows mock, While the child of her bosom is sold on the bjock ; Yet loud shrieks that mother, poor heart broken mother, In sorrow and woe. The babe, in return, for its fond mother cries. While the sound of their wailings together arise ; They shriek for each other, the child and the mother. In sorrow and woe. The harsh apctipneer, to sympathy cold, Tears the babe from its mother and sells it for gold ; While the infant and mother, loud shriek for each other. In sorrow and woe. At last came the parting of mother and child, Her brain reel'd with madness, that mother was wild ; Then the lash could not smother the shrieks of that mother. Of sorrow and woe. The child was borne off to a far distant clime, While the mother was left in anguish to pme, But reason departed, and she sunk broken hearted^ In sorrow and wog. That poor mourning mother, of reason bereft, Soon ended her sorrows, and sunk cold in death ; Thus died that &lave mother, poor heart-hroken mother, In sorrow and woe. Oh! list, ye kind mothers, to the cries of the slave ! The parents and children implore you to save ; Go! rescue the mothers, the sisters and brothers, From sorrow and woe. THE PIONEER. 69 HYMN TO THE FLOWERS. BY EOSACE SHITB. Day stars ! that ope your eyes with mom to twinkle From rainbow galaxies of earth's creation, And dew-drops on her lovely altar sprinkle As a libation ! Ye matin worshippers ! who, bending lowly Before the uprisen sun, God's lidless eye. Throw from your chalices a sweet and holy Incense on high ! Ye bright mosaics ! that with storied beauty The florae of nature's temple tesselate, What numerous emblems of instructive duty Your forms create ! 'Neath cloistered boughs each floral bell that swingeth, And tolls its perfume on the passing air, Makes Sabbath in the fields, and ever ringeth A call to prayer ! Not to the domes where crumbling arch and column Attest the feebleness of mortal man, But to that fane most catholic and solemn Which (xod hath planned! To that cathedral, boundless as our wcmder. Whose qnenchJess lamps the sun and moon supply. Its choir the winds and waves, its organ — ^&iind», Its dome— the sky ! There, as in solitude and shade I wander . Through the lone aisles, or stretched upon the sod, Awed by the silence, reverently ponder The ways of God, — Your voiceless lips, oh flowers, are living preachers ; Each cup a pulpit, and each leaf a book, Supplying to my fancy numerous teachers From loneliest nook ! 70 THE PIONEER. Floral apostles ! that in dewy splendor, " Weep without sin and blush without a crime," Oh ! may I deeply learn and ne'er surrender Your love sublime ! " Thoa'wast not, Solomon, in all thy glory, Arrayed," the lilies cry, "in robes like ours ; " How vain your grandeur ! oh, how transitory Are human flowers ! In the sweet scented pictures, heavenly Artist ! With which thou paintest Nature's wide spread hall, What a delightful lesson thou impartest Oflove toall! Not useless are ye, flowers ! though made for pleasure. Blooming o'er fields and wave by day and night. From every source your sanction bids me treasure Harmless delight ! Ephemeral sages! what instrucfers hoary. For such a world of thought could furnish scope ? Each fading calyx a memento mori, Yet fount of hope ! Posthumous glories ! angel-like collection ! Upraised from seed or bulb interred in earth. Ye are to me a type of resurrection And second birth. Were I, oh God ! in churchless lands remaining. Far from all teachers and from all divines. My soul would find, in flowers of thy ordaining. Priests, sermons, shrines ! THE PIONEER. 71 GREAT AND GROTESQUE CELEBRATION. The " Odd Fellows' " celebration on the 19th June last was, in many respects, a great affair. It was great in its display of numbers, great as an instance of sudden and almost unprecedented growth, — great in the fine appearance of its " Fellows," and last, and least, great in the unsurpassed foolishness of its decorations, and the infinite absurdity of its official display. I never wit- nessed an exhibition which excited in my mind more mingled feelings. At one moment I was awed into the most thoughtful mood by the imposing influence of great numerical display, — and the next moment excited to the highest pitch of mirthfulness at some part of their ridiculous trappings. There was scarcely a man in the procession who was not worthy a prominent place in the picture-gallery of " Hood's Comic Annual." To describe the motley array would task the pen of a Rogers or the pencil of a Hogarth. Most remarkable of all was the fact that the " Fellows " were so thoroughly drilled by their funny-titled officers that they made all this childish display with countenances as sober as so many clowns. This was, of course, a great trial to their muscles, — and it must have been a great relief to get within their secret conclaves, where they could unbend their iron cheeks and do the laughing on their countenances, which all the day long they had been doing in their sleeves. Where so many people came from — and how many towns must have been emasculated to enable them to be present — is a pro- blem which would puzzle a Bowditch, and confound a Malthus. A large portion of them, judging from their conspicuous display of the " lone star " — came from Texas. It may be, however, that this distinguished emblem, instead of being indicative of their origin, is prophetic of their destiny ! It would be idle, though, for me to attempt to interpret any of the " strange devices " of this ingenious order, — and I will therefore leave the Sphynx to solve her own riddle. Who, for instance, could solve the deep 72 THE PIONEER. meaning of those auctioneer's hammers, or shoe-binder's mallets, which so many of them sported ? Doubtless they have some sort of a knock-down significance, but it would take a Paul Pry or a woman to discover it. — ^Again, — those red and white poles', — looking for all the world like the sticks of patent candy exhibited in Lee's famous Saloon, on Washington-street, — ^how I wondered what sweet meaning could be intended by them ! The carving knives, too, which some of them wore, — ^what could they mean ? I looked sharp at. them, and they looked sharp at me^ — and brighter blades surely never exchanged glances — but I am as much in the dark as to their typical beauty as ever. One chapi from Baltimore I think, had a belly of the true Falstaffian swell, and such, was his love of fitness and proprietyv that he bad his knife, or scim«tar, lounded to his exact abdominal curve, — making altogether the most unique figure in the processioa.— Perhaps as ludicrous, and certainly as incongruous, a sight as was afforded to us " outside, barbarians,"— was the priests^ who were dotted about the procession like scare-crows in a corn-field. Most ef them held a big book in their hands,, edged with guilt but otherwise dressed in mourning, which may have been a bible, and may have been a dictionary, and may have been, theii black book of rites and ceremonies : but I guess it was a bible ; for thai really great and noble book is used as a sweetener for every pillf,, how- ever nauseous, which it is thought best to coax down the throat of the "dear" (but obstinate) "public." These gentlemen in black and white, (who doubtless think theit if their "Master" was upon die earth he would delight to be tricked out with an Odd Fellow's regalia) walking in sober state and mock majesty in that many colored crowd, — trying to " fill " the people with " solemn awe," looked as comical as Yankees Hill and Silsbee, in their most ridiculbus representations. The most prominent, article of rigging which distinguishes the- Odd Fellows is their variegated apron. This is mude of all giades/ of material, from l^e coarsest canvass to the most costly •velvet (iacGQiding to the " degree " of foolishness vsihick the mem- THE PIONEER. 73 bers of this peacock tribe have reached, or bought) and is orna- mented with all sorts of figures, from the solitary star, made of bunting, to the very cross itself, made of real gold. Between these two extremes, are all sorts of " crinkum crankums " which were ever conceived in the labarynthian mind of man or woman. I venture the assertion, that the dolls in the royal nuxsery of Queen Victoria do not have more gaudy pinafores than this body of grown up men, — and are not more proud of them. And the wax figures in the Museum do not submit to their fanciful trimmings with more silent acquiescence than these Odd Fellows submit to theirs. A few years hence, — and one of these brethren, tricked out in full regalia, will be as great a curiosity, and as suitable for a museum, as a fashionable woman with her enormous bustle, or innumerable petticoats. And when garrulous grandmothers tell little children how that once on a time great big men used to march through the streets with mantles and pinafores on, — and take the dear little ones to the curiosity shop to show them a wax representation of an Odd Fellow in full uniform — the wondrous story will be as astonishing to their young minds as the most grotesque rhymes in Mother Goose's Melodies. But I must draw my sketch to a summary close. How long before this band of really fine and kind-hearted young men will shed their unnatural feathers, — and give up their senseless mysti- cisms, and stupid ceremonies, depends upon what degree of coun- tenance they receive from the uninitiated public. They have vir- tually suborned the press and the pulpit, and are just now on the " full tide of successful experiment." How they can look their wives and sisters in the face, after strutting about all day in their peacock uniforms, or engaging all the evening in their senseless formalities, — ^must be set down as the greatest mystery connected with the concern. I notice that Masonry — for some time considered obsolete — is hurrying out of its grave, wiping the mould from its gaudy dress, — and commencing a new existence under the favor and patronage of Odd Fellowship. This was to have been expected ; for the 11 74 THE PIONEER. two institutions are twins, — ^bound tog-ether by a tie as strange and unnatural as that which unites the twins of Siam. They are both founded on principles as false in philosophy as they are per- nicious in practice. And both have just enough of good about them, to deceive a thoughtless and superficial community. Odd Fellowship is " young yet " (in this country) and has thus far shown chiefly its bright side. But the time is not far distant, when it will bear fruit as bitter and poisonous as that of Masonry in the palmiest days of its corruption. Our miscalled " courts of justice," our churches, our academies of learning, our social and business relations, — all will " eat of the tree," and be fearfully corrupted by this organized secrecy. A more dangerous element cannot be introduced into our system. It is comparatively pure and harmless now, — ^but the day is not far distant, when it will vie with the church itself in rottenness and guilt. Proscribing the weak and the sick, — despising the colored man, whatever his condition, — uniting with grog-sellers, slave-traders, and their abet- tors, — " loving darkness rather than light," — it contains all the elements of the most subtle, and therefore most dangerous iniquity, and ought to be watched with most jealous care by every friend of man, whether within its spiked walls, or without. I know this will seem wild and extravagant to most of the members, but I also believe that (as much to their sorrow as to mine) what I have said will be found tame and insufficient in comparison with the ultimate facts. THE PIONEER. 75 EACH IN ALL. BT KALPH WALDO EMEKSON. Little thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked clown, Of thee, from the hill-top looking down ; And the heifer, that lows in the upland farm, Far heard, lows not thine ear to charm ; The sexton, tolling the bell at noon. Dreams not that great Napoleon Stops his horse, and lists with delight. As his files sweep roand yon distant height ; Nor knowest thou what argument Thy life to thy neighbor's creed has lent : All are needed by each one. Nothing is fair or good alone. I sought the sparrow's note from heaven, Singing at dawn on the alder bough ; I brought him home in his nest at even ; — He sings the song, but it pleases not now ; For I did not bring home the river and sky ; He sang to my ear ; they sang to my eye. The delicate shells lay on the shore ; The bubbles of the latest wave Fresh pearls to their enamel gave ; And the bellowing of the savage sea Greeted their safe escape to me : I wiped away the weeds and foam. And fetched my sea-born treasures home ; But the poor, unsightly, noisome things Had left their beauty on the shore With the sun, and the sand, and the wild uproar ! Then I said, "I covet Truth ; Beauty is unripe childhood's cheat, — I leave it behind with the games of youth." As I spoke, beneath my feet The ground-pine curled its pretty wreath, Running over the club-moss burrs ; I inhaled the violet's breath ; 76 THE PIONEER. Around me stood the oaks and firs ; Pine cones and acorns lay on the ground ; Above me soared the eternal sky, Full of light and Deity; Again I saw, again I heard The rolling river, the morning bird ; — Beauty through my senses stole, I yielded myself to the perfect whole. THE DISMAL SWAMP. A friend informs us, says the Madisonian, that the recent fire in the Swamp has driven from their hiding places a large number of runaway slaves, who have, in many cases, been secreted for years. An old black woman, being burnt out of her capacious home, sought out and claimed her master; and, in addition to this return of property, she brought with her, eleven children, all her own, serving as an indemnity or remuneration for her long absence. Any quantity of bears, foxes, and other animals, already roasted, is to be found ; and all that a hungry man has to do is to hie to the smoking meats, and satiate his appetite. — Boston Daily Mail. Where, in the whole history of the human race, is there an incident more full of horror than that revealed in the above cool- blooded paragraph ? The sensitive mind starts back with terror at the bare contemplation of it. Just fix your attention on the frightful scene for a moment, — and consider the circumstances. How they illustrate the beauty of slavery, and the peaceful con- tentedness of the slaves ! But stop. The scene is too dreadful for irony, too solemn for sarcasm. What are the simple facts ? A large number of our fellow men and women, having been born into Southern slavery, and suffered more of its terrible deprivations and cruelties than even their sub- dued natures could longer submit to, — resolve to run away from their inhuman masters, feeling quite certain that they cannot make their condition any worse. To be sure they are penniless and almost clotheless ; to be sure they know not a human being on the face of the broad earth who dare befriend them ; to be sure they dare not travel in the light of the sun, and are fearful of the THE PIONEER. 77 treacherous moon; — ^but still the horrors of their present life have accumulated so fearfully, that they are willing to run any con- ceivable risk, just for the sake of a change. And so upon some moon-less and star-less night, with no friend but the thick cloud which veils the light of heaven from their path, — quietly, fear- fully, stealthily, afraid of the very sound of their steps, they steal away from their wretched cabins, and plunge into the nearest viooSi, fearing tigers and hyenas less than their "brother man and sister woman." They wander about, hiding themselves by day in caves and thickets, and in the tops of high trees, — and creep- ing along by night, alarmed at the rustling of every leaf, and the chirping of every bird, and the prattling of every stream, — until, at last, faint and weary, with heavy feet and heavier hearts, they are compelled by that necessity which knows no law, to halt where they are, and take up their cheerless abode in the dreary solitudes of the Dismal Swamp. Here, with mud, and sticks, and the bark of trees, they build themselves rude huts, — and commence a life which, squalid and wretched as it is, — is a relief for the insupportable torments of slavery. The roar of the wild beasts is not so terrible to them as the voice of savage masters. The occasional loss of a child by the mouth of a hungry bear, is not so frightful as the beating of that child to death by a brutal driver. Their constant exposure to the fierce elements is not so much dreaded as their hourly liability to the lash, and the brand- ing iron. And so they live in comparative peace and happiness, their principal cause for joy being their escape from the clutches of American Christians. They live in savage life indeed, and what the world calls barbarous and heathen — ^but as low and loathsome as it is, it is an advance on the life of one sixth of the American people. (What an appalling fact !) And now for a still darker shade of the picture, and let the fiends of hell rejoice as I rehearse it. The poor runaways and outcasts, are not allowed to dwell even in that dismallest of " dis- mal " swamps. The most fierce and fearful element of nature is enlisted against them. The swamp is set on fire, and those 7S THE PIONEER. whom the blood-horse could not catch, nor the blood-hound scent, are overtaken by the swift-running flames, and driven into the broad and unsheltered plains, — a mark for every gun, a target for every arrow. And it seems' one old black woman, being burnt out of her capacious home, sought out and (desperate alternative) claimed her master ; and the Madisonian chuckles over the heart- rending fact, and facetiously adds that " in addition to this return of property, she brought with her eleven children, all her own, serving as an indemnity or remuneration for her long absence ! " And the newspapers all over the country copy the Madisonian^ s heartless account of these distressful scenes, without a word of sympathy ! Talk about the burning of Pittsburgh, it sinks into utter insignificance when compared with the burning of Dismal Swamp. 'Twere better all Pennsylvania should have been burned to charcoal than that the poor fugitives in Dismal Swamp should have been burned out of their retreat. But who gets up ward, and county, and district committees, to raise funds to feed* clothe, and rescue from slavery, the" poor suflferers by that fire ? What churches get up contributions for them ? What papers advocate their pressing claims upon public sympathy, compared with which the claim of the greatest sufferer in Pittsburg is not worth listening to ? Alas ! alas ! the poor slave may be robbed, branded, hunted, sold, burned, hanged, shot, or anything which human malice can devise, — and this Christian nation is no more disturbed at it than at the buzzing of an insect. The other day, at an Anti-Slavery meeting in Manchester, Frederick Douglass related some of the most touching and terrible incidents of the slave life and death, — and the audience, for the most part, listened to the tale with the most consummate indifference. Young ladies who could weep their eyes red over the sufferings of some imaginary hero or heroine in the last new novel, are as little con- cerned about the agonies of the poor slave as about the sufferings of a musquito. And young men who are loud in their sympathy for ill-paid mechanics, and shed tears over the sufferings of over- worked shoe-binders, hear of men and women being banished to THE PIONEER. 79 Dismal Swamp and then burned out of that, as if it were a part of the order of nature. To return. The Madisonian continues to say that "any quantity of bears, foxes, and other animals, already roasted, is to be found in the Swamp." No doubt of it. And men, women, and children too, who are not always so fleet as bears and foxes I Well, it were better that the whole swamp-ful of fugitives should be burned to death than returned to their iron-hearted masters. Oh God ! Oh God ! What a land this is ! Brothers and sisters driving each other before the lash into Dismal Swamps, and then burning them out as they burn rats out of a ship ! Buying child- ren by the pound and women by the dozen, and thanking God that they don't live in those Heathen countries where they wor- ship stocks and stones ! Robbing cradles and plundering nurser- ies six days of the week, and spending one in praise to God that he has given us our birth in a land of civil and religious liberty ! Bragging of the number of our churches, and the multitude of our Christian privileges, and denying to one in every six of our people the privilege to read the Bible ! Verily that nation never existed on the face of the earth which ever flung " hatred and full defi- ance " into the face of the Almighty, and trampled all his laws under feet, with such a hearty relish as these United States of America have done from the beginning even till now. 80 THE PIONEER. BATTLE OF/ BLENHEIM. BT KOBERT SOUTHEY. It was a summer evening, Old Caspar's work was done, And he before his cottage door Was sitting in the sun ; And by him sported on the green His little grand-child, Wilhelmine. She saw her brother Peterkin EoU something large and round. That he beside the rivulet, In playing, there had found ; He came to ask what he had found That was so large, and smooth, and round. Old Caspar took it from the boy Who stood expectant by ; And then the old man shook his head And with a natural sigh : " 'Tis some poor fellow's skull," said he, " Who fell in the great victory ; I find them in my garden, for There's many here about. And often when I go to plow. The plowshare turns them out ; For many thousand men," said he, "Were slain in this great victory." "Now tell us what 'twas all about," Young Peterkin he cries ; And little Wilhelmine looks up. With wonder-waiting eyes ; " Now tell us all about the war. And what they killed each other for." "It was the English," Caspar cried, "That put the French to rout : And what they killed each other for I could not well make out : THE PIONEER. 91 But every body said," quoth he, "That 'twas a famous victory. My father lived at Blenheim then, Yon little stream hard by — They burnt his dwelling to the ground, And he was forced to fly ; So with his wife and child he fled, Nor had he where to lay his head. With fire and sword the country round Was wasted far and wide : And many a Childing mother then, And new-born infant died : Bat things like that you know must be, At every famous victory. They say it was a shocking sight After the field was won : For many thousand bodies here Lay rotting in the sun : But things like that you know must be. After a famous Victory. Great praise the Duke of Marlboro' won. And our good Prince Eugene.'' " Why 'twas a very wicked thing ! " Said little Wilhehnine. " Nay, nay, my little girl," quoth he, " It was a famous victory. And every body praised the Duke, Who such a fight did win." " What good came of it at the last?" Quoth little Peterkin. " Why, that I cannot tell," said he, " But 'twas a famous victory." 12 82 THE PIONEER. SELF-RELIANCE. Anti-Slavery has no lesson which it teaches so plainly as the great lesson of self-reliance. I do not, of course, mean by self- reliance, that intense egotism which discovers no wisdom beyond the narrow walls of its own mind, and which is therefore as super- ficial as it is supercilious, and as intolerable as it is intolerant ; — but, rather, and simply, that unfaltering reliance on one's highest convictions and purest instincts, which is supremely indifferent to the evershifting current of popular feeling, while at the same time it sees beneath the earthy incrustations of every soul some spark of the absolute truth. " Unstable as water " must that mind be which takes for its pole-star either public opinion, or the opinion of any sect, clique, or individual. It may seem, at first glance, like a becoming humility, to distrust the uncertain light which flickers in one's own soul, and be guided by what seems the fixed ray of some brighter luminary ; — ^but, depend upon it, such a course pursued continually and implicitly, though it may commence in a health- ful diffidence of one's own powers, will soon degenerate into' the most debasing servility. By all means call to your mind, in every important matter, all the council and advice which you can com- mand ; but, as you value your uprightness of soul, and desire to walk in the path oi infinite progress, do not receive one jot or tittle of it as authority. However hallowed by time, or endeared by association, or deified by superstition, listen no one as an author- ity, and be subject to no rule but the clear utterance of your own reason, and the still small voice of your own soul. It is the utter want of this self-reliance which keeps many beautiful spirits aloof from the Anti-Slavery movement. They cannot but perceive, and to some extent appreciate, its claims upon their attention , but their moral systems have become so completely unnerved and confused by long, sad years of devotion to sect and authority, that they have no confidence in their owii THE PIONEER. 83 judgment, and are frightened by their own footfall and shadow. Seeing that the Genitis of Reform is superior to those Creeds and Teachers which they have been accustomed to receive and rever- ence as the exponents and expositors of God's Truth, they feel that every touch of her mighty wand is moral desolation and death. And, in their present servile and abject state, well they may ; for the very sight of her makes the walls of their sanctuary tremble, and shrinks their high-priests, who but now bore the seeming of brave and portly men, into pitiful cowards or hideous dwarfs. Nothing in the history of the world is more striking, or more instructive of good, than the withering effect which this same Genius of Reform has upon the popular religion, and its servile adherents. Her approach is more terrible to them than an "army with banners." To their disordered eyes her white robes are spotted with blood, and her peaceful wand is a flaming sword. They flee from her as from a pestilence, and at the mention of her name the traitorous blood deserts their cheeks, and with livid face, and lurid eye, the poor things appeal piteously to the rude populace to save their priesthood from death, and the ark of their God from desolation ! So strong is the hold which the popular religion — cowardly and ignoble as we have seen it to be — ^has upon the thoughtless mul- titude, they dare not take a new step without the consent of its authorities, who have the good sense to perceive that any new step — unless it be a step backward — wiU prove fatal to its exis- tence. And so the people hold back, despite their inmost convic- tions, from every onward movement, and throw all the obstacles in its way which, with their remaining courage, they dare to. Now it seems to me that it only needs for the great mass of the community to do their own thinking, in order to remedy this state of things, and secure an immense accession to the reform ranks. And it is equally necessary to continue in this excellent habit (of doing one's own thinking instead of having it, like so much S4 THE PIONEEE. sewing, " done out ") after you have entered those ranks. To this end — if the reader will pardon a little dogmatic advice — sign no creeds ; bind yourself to no constitutions ; choose to yourself no Kings or Presidents ; submit your judgment to no committees; engage in no political tactics ; and submit to no parliamentary, congressional, or (for they are all of a piece) constabular disci- pline. Touch any of these things and you will be defiled. Erir gage in any of them, and you will find (if you are a fugitive from church or state) that you have only changed one priesthood for another, — and that while you have been congratulating yourself on a happy escape from the meshes of sect and clique, you are more hopelessly entangled in their cunning web than ever. The only hope of your soul — here or " hereafter " — is the preservation of your individuality, — in other virords, the maintenance of your own soul as a separate, distinct, entire existence, subject to no authority, and amenable to no discipline, — save the authority and discipline of the divine law as written out and declared by the " oracle within." SLANDER. BY FRANCES S. OSSOOD. A whisper woke the air — A soft light toue and low, Yet barbed with shame and woe ; Now might it only perish there ! Nor farther go. Ah me ! a quick and eager ear Caught up the little meaning sound ! Another voice has breathed it clear, And so it wanders round, From ear to lip— from lip to ear— Until it reached a gentle heart, And that — it broke. It was the only heart it found, The only heart 'twas meant to find, THE PIONEEK. 85 When first its accents woke ; — It reached that tender heart at last, And that — it broke. Low as it seemed to other ears, It cam^ — a thunder-crash to hers, — That fragile girl so fair and gay, — That guileless girl so pure and true ! 'Tis said a lovely humming bird That in a fragrant lily lay, And dreamed the summer morn away, Was killed by but a gun's report, Some idle boy had fired in sport ! The very sound — a death-blow came ! And thus her happy heart, that beat With love and hope, so fast and sweet, (Shrined in its Lily too ; For who the maid that knew, But owned the delicate flower-like grace Of her young form and face ?) When first that word Her light heart heard, It fluttered like the frightened bird. Then shut its wings and sighed. And with a silent shudder — died ! BRIDAL WISHES. BY "BATIKT CORNWALL." Sweet be her dreatns, the fair, the young ! Grace, beauty breathe upon her ! Music, haunt thou about her tongue ! Life, fill her path with honor ! All golden thoughts, all wealth of days. Truth, Friendship, Love, surround her ! go may she smile till life be closed, An angel hands have crowned her ! 86 THE PIONEER. THE GREAT WASHINGTONIAN JUBILEE ON BOSTON COMMON, MAY 30, 1844. The great Temperance Jubilee was the most thrilling spectacle I have ever seen. It was overwhelming. It was plain to see that it took old Boston by storm. As the armies of truth poured into the city from every avenue, and arrayed themselves in a countless multitude on the glad common, the people of the city stared with perfect amazement. They were in no wise prepared for so gorgeous a scene — and its philosophy w^as quite beyond their depth. So silently has the great Washingtonian cause been doing its work, — so quietly have the free souls of New England joined its gathering stream, — so gently have the mighty waters stole round the hills and through the valleys of New England, — that when the people witnessed the stupendous result they were lifted off their feet in astonishment. Here was the greatest moral spectacle which they ever beheld, — yet they had not dreamed of its existence. Here was the most glorious army ever gathered together in New England, rich with the trophies and green with the laurels of victory — an, army an hundred thousand strong — and army fresh from conquests, yet free from blood — an army acknowledging no leader but God, and no pass-word but Truth — an army before which princes bow and principalities are shaken, — ^here was this joyful army, encamped on old Boston Common, right before their very eyes— and the Boston Politicians, the Boston World-lings, and the Boston Church, — look aghast at the sublime sight, and know not its meaning. They feel elated by the general enthusiasm — and yet they feel small and cheap that they have contributed no whit to its existence. They feel ashamed that so mighty a battle has been fought, and they have been worse than Tories. All at once all their great plans look puny and ridiculous. Their life seems to them an idle dream, an empty show. " What," say they, " have the hills of New Eng- land been shaken to their rocky base by a moral earthquake, and THE PIONEER. 87 we just opened our eyes ? Have we been skulking behind our counters, and our benches, and our pulpits, — while a battle has been fought in our midst compared to which the battle of Bunker Hill was a feint and a sham?" Such people, and there were many, are to be pitied. They wanted to cast themselves into the sea of human hearts whose proud waves were beating at their feet — but they dared not do it. They tried to look brave, and haughty, but in vain. Like Xerxes, they would fain have chained up the billows and fettered the deep waters, and the thought of their impotence almost angered them. On the other hand I almost envied the reformed men in this great army. As I saw Samuel A. Walker, mounted on his gal- lant charger, rallying the mighty hosts, and reflecting in his broad face the concentrated happiness of a whole Common-full of people, — as his eye lit up with pride, and he sounded out from time to time the " busy note of preparation," — I could scarcely believe that a few short years ago that same Samuel A. Walker was buried in the dreadful unconsciousness of the sot — and I asked myself where is the man so base that he will not sing poeans to a cause of which such is the fruit ? There again were my noble friends Whitaker, Gough, Price, Stacy, Potter, Barlow, O'Brien, Burke, Collyer, Hazlewood, Chenery, Dorr, (of Dorr-chester,) Marsh, Cheever.Parkman, Kellogg, Frazer, Skelton, — and a whole host of others who looked as happy as angels. Like the stars, as they have just emerged from the dark cloud, these friends looked brighter than ever before, and felt, after all, that it was good for them that their brightness had been, for a time, eclipsed. But whether good or bad, — this much is plain, that last Thursday they shone like messengers of light. What a glorious occasion it was r How gracefully the blue sky bent her protecting arches over the encamped multitude, and with what a holy radiance the cheerful sun painted every countenance ! Never did Nature breathe more purely or array herself in a more lovely garb. The prayers of the most hope-lit spirit were more than answered. I felt that it would be so ; for as I have asked before, when has 88 THE PIONEEE. Heaven failed to smile on our glorious cause ? Man has reviled it, — the professed servants of God have shut it from their tem- ples as unworthy so holy a place, — but when God has been asked to prepare his Temple for the noble cause, the blue dome of Heaven has been freed from every cloud, the green earth been prepared, balmy airs have filled the chambers of the firmament, the walls thereof have been gilded with a new light, and all nature has joined in one chorus of welcome. In this " temple not made with hands " — which the ministers would have closed against us with thunder-bolts had they possessed the power— the Wash- ingtonians felt free. They had to take up no collection to pay the Almighty for the use of such a magnificent temple — they were afraid of soiling nobody's holy carpets — defacing nobody's psalm-books — and disturbing the ears of no " gentleman in black" — and they felt free, free as the birds of the air. That was the crowning glory, " the bright particular star " of the As^— freedom. I am not at all moved to describe the minutiae of this great gala- day. Perhaps if 1 could pass it all in review before you, — and present the glittering panorama with something of its own brill- iance, I should do it. But as for attempting to do this, or to approach this, it will never do. If you were not there you never will know what you have lost, and if you were there you need not to have anything recalled : for on such occasions the eye is a daguerreotype which, with unerring fidelity, transfers everything worthy of the place, to the tablets of the soul. In one word, it was a great day — the greatest in the annals of America — great not so much because of its results, as of its presages and its prophesies — great as the dawn of that day when the red banner of war which is even now half-mast shall be struck to the earth, and the white banner of love which Already is lifted from the dust, shall wave over every citadel and woo every air, — ' a day when the cloud of sensuality shall be lifted from the soul and it shall be clothed in the purity of nature, — a day when man shall' no longer creep like a serpent fearful of every foot, but stand erect in the strength of a restored body and the purity of a redeemed soul. THE PIONEER. 89 LAMENT OF THE WIDOWED INEBRIATE. BY A. 3. H. DUGANKK. I'm thinking on thy smile, Mary, Thy bright and trusting smile, In the morning of onr youth and love. Ere sorrow came, or guile ; When thine arms were twined about my neck, And mine eye looked into thine, And the heart that throbbed for me alone, Was nestled close to mine ! I see full many a smile, Mary, On young lips beaming bright ; And many an eye of light and love Is flashing in my sight : — Bat the smile is not for my poor heart, And the eye is strange to me. And loneliness comes o'er my soul When its memory turns to thee ! I'm thinking on the night, Mary, The night of grief and shame, When with drunken ravings on my lips. To thee I homeward came — 0, the tear was in thine earnest eye, And thy bosom wildly heaved, Yet a smile of love was on thy cheek, Though the heart was sorely grieved ! But the smile soon left thy lips, Mary, And thine eye grew dim and sad ; For the tempter lured my steps from thee. And the wine-cup drove me mad: From thy cheek the roses quickly fled, And thy ringing laugh was gone. Yet thy heart still fondly clung to me, And still kept trusting on. 0, my words were harsh to thee, Mary, For the wine-cup made me wild ; 13 90 THE PIONEER. And I chid thee when thine eyes were sad, And I cursed thee when they smiled. God knows I loved thee even then, But the fire was in my brain, And the curse of drink was in my heart, To make my love a bane. 'Twas a pleasant home of ours, Mary, In the spring-time of our life. When I looked upon thy sunny face. And proudly called thee wife, — And 'Iwas pleasant when our children played Before our cottage door : — But the children sleep with thee, Mary, I shall never see them more ! Thou'rt resting in the church-yard, now. And no stone is at thy head ! But the sexton knows a drunkard's wife Sleeps in that lowly bed ; — And he says the hand of God, Mary, Will fall with crushing weight. On the wretch who brought thy gentle life To its untimely fate ! But he knows not of the broken heart I bear within my breast. Or the heavy load of vain remorse, That will not let me rest : He knows not of the sleepless nights. When dreaming of thy love, I seem to see thine angel-eyes, Look coldly from above. I have raised the wine-cup in my hand, And the wildest strains I've sung, Till with the laugh of drunken mirth The echoing air has rung ; — But a pale and sorrowing face look'd out, From the glittering cup to me. And a trembling whisper I have heard That I fancied breathed by thee ? THE PIONEEK. 91 Thou art slumbering in the peaceful grave, And thy sleep is dreamless now, But the seal of an undying grief Is on thy mourner's brow, And my heart is chill as thine, Mary, For the joys of life have fled, And I long to lay ray aching breast With the cold and silent dead ! FEEE SPEECH. Who of us is in harmony with the spirit of this beautiful Spring ? Who of us yields up such grateful incense to heaven, as the humblest floweret which we tread under our feet ? Who of us in " life or conversation," breathes so much of the spirit of love as yonder little quail, whose breast swells with joy as he whistles his gladsome matin? Speaking of the birds, I could not help thinking, a few minutes ago, as I stood beneath a noble tree whose branches were peopled with these beautiful songsters, that they were illustrating, to a charm, the beauties of free speech. Now and then, one of the most musical of them would send forth a clear note, which would go flying abroad on its silver wings to all the surrounding woods, until every leaf seemed to tremble with joy at the thrilhng strain, — and then it would be caught up by one after another of the vernal choir, until the whole heavens were made vocal with the great chorus, and the very winds held their breath to catch its divine inspiration. And this was free- dom's own voice, — ^unregulated by arbitrary laws, unmoderated by ambitious leaders. It was the result of no majority vote, — the production of no business committee, — the tune of no " organ," — but Nature's assertion of the great right of song, which is the highest order of speech. Who of us that has revelled in the freedom of an unregulated meeting — where men and women as- pire to the freedom of birds, — but has sometimes heard something not unlike the great chorus of which I just now spoke ? Some noble spirit, like friend Rogers for instance, with a heart full of 92 THE PIONEEE. the richest melody, has sent forth a few of its inspiring strains, and while they were yet quivering upon his lips, they have been caught up by one kindred soul and another, until, heedless of all restraints, their glad voices have intermingled one with another, making what has seemed discord to the superficial ear, but what to any one who can appreciate the deep voices of nature, was a manifestation of the highest harmony. This will seem arrant nonsense to the coarse-minded, who will see in it nothing hut lawlessness and " license." But who that has ever listened to the merry voices of unregulated childhood, — and had soul enough to enjoy their simple and earnest utterance — doesn't know, that if one should unravel their tangled speech, and after arranging it thread by thread, line by line, in stupid uniformity, — present that as the model for their future intercourse, he would deserve to be called a downright fool ? And yet there are those whose philos- phy would lead to this result, — and they really think it is " law and order." Indeed, an order very much like this is that which obtains the highest premium among our " common schools." Now it never occurs to children when in the impetuous flow of their spirits they chance to break in upon each other's speech, they have thus become little " mobocrats." Poor ignorant souls,, they have yet to learn that from some future Foster-father. Again — for under the free influence of this fine morning, the subject has taken almost " monomaniac " hold on me — a " band of broth- ers " and sisters meet together to see what can be done to help a poor neighbor. Their hearts burn with love, and every spirit is moved to encircle their unfortunate or fallen brother in the arms of sympathy and love. And the thought is uitered. It is a great thought, and suggests a thousand others, which come rushing up into the mind and seeking vent like the waters of the mountain spring. And as they flow forth from the sparkling minds and mingle together ; or (to lay the metaphor aside, lest it be called *' inflated,") as the kind voices break forth, laden with friendly sympathies and suggestions, — it, will very likely happen, that no one will time his utterance by the clock, and that frequently one THE PIONEER. 93 person will interrupt the other, — and possibly extinguish his thoughts, — just as the intruding sun or moon sometimes extin- guishes the stars ! This happens in every friendly consultation which ever takes place, and nobody ever dreamed that it was " mobocratic," — though in the •' higher circles " of life it is not considered " a la mode" and a modern Columbus has " discovered " that it is quite anarchical ! Now to my way of thinking, the order of a few friends, meeting together in friendly union and holding that unrestreiined and unembarrassed intercourse which is the peculiarity, as it is the glory, if not the essential life, of friend- ship, — is much more in keeping with the great laws of nature, than the order of a body of people who have subjected themselves to the bridle, the curb-bit, and the lash, of a chairman or " business committee," — and stand in obedient readiness to " hor " or " gee " at the word of command. The noble animal which careers across the prairies with the speed of the wind, and whose "neck is clothed with thunder," does not differ more from a broken down stage- horse, whose skin is worn " thread-bare " by whips and harness, — than a genuine free meeting differs from one which is subjected to the control of chairmen and committees. To take a better comparison, the song of the canary bird as he sings among the green retreats of his native island, does not exceed in beauty the song of the same bird imprisoned in a narrow cage 2^ confined in one of our heartless cities (a cage within a cage) than the speech of free meeting exceeds in beauty and power that of the organized convention. If you doubt it, compare those great mass meetings which Jesus Christ used to hold upon the sides of mountains, and the margins of lakes, where every ■person had, the same freedom to speak as himself, (and where business committees, and chairmen, and disciplinary manuals were not thought of,) to the stiff, stilted, officered, regulated meetings of the Jewish San- hedrim. Jesus Christ — let it be said every where, not by way of authority, but as^the example of the greatest of men^ — was a prac- tical advocate of unrestricted speech. He commenced it when a boy, among the Jewish doctors, and he continued it when a man, 94 THE PIONEER. among the people. And this it was, which enabled him to speak " as one having authority, and not as the scribes," — which made those who were sent to annoy him with their catechisms, go away aiid say, " never man spake like this man ; " and I am inclined to think, that his advocacy, exercise, and encouragement of free speech, was one of his most heinous offences, — as it has certainly been among his disciples, down to the present hour, when comparatively moderate advocacy of it, is considered " mon- omaniasm .' " and " mobocracy ! ! " and mere " gab ! ! ! " LABOE. BY FHANCES. S. OSGOOD. Pause not to dream of the future before us ; Pause not to weep the wil(Lcares that come o'er us ; Hark, how Creation's deep, musical chorus Unintermitting, goes up into Heaven ! Never the ocean-wave falters in flowing ; Never the little seed stops in growing ; More and more richly the rose-heart keeps glowing, Till from its nourishing stem it is riven. " Labor is worship ! " — the robin is singing ; " Labor is worship ! " — the wild bee is ringing ; Listen ! that eloquent whisper upspringing, Speaks to thy soul from out Nature's great heart. From the dark cloud flows the life giving shower ; From the rough sod blows the soft breathing flower ; From the small insect the rich coral bower ; Only man, in the plan, shrinks from his part. Labor is life ! — 'Tis the still water faileth ; Idleness ever despaireth, bewaileth ; Keep the watch wound, for the dark rust assaileth ; Flowers droop and die in the stillness of noon. Labor is glory! — the flying cloud lightens ; Only the waving wing changes and brightens ; Idle hearts only the dark future frightens ; Hay the sweet keys, would'st thou keep them in tune ! THE PIONEER. 95 Labor is rest from the sorrows that greet as ; Rest from all petty vexations that meet as, Kest from sin-promptings that ever entreat us, Best from world-syrens that lure us to ill. Work — and pure slumbers shall wait on thy pillow ; Work — thou shalt ride over Care's coming billow ; Lie not down wearied 'neath Woe's weeping willow ! Work with a stout heart and resolute will ! Droop not tho' shame, sin, and anguish are round thee ! Bravely fling off the cold chain that hath bound thee ! Look to yon pure Heaven smiling beyond thee ! Rest not content in thy darkness — a clod ! Work ! — for some good — be it ever so slowly ! Cherish some flower — be it ever so lowly ! Labor ! All labor is noble and holy ; Let thy great deeds be thy prayer to thy God ! THE GIBBET. Who can read the history of the gibbet, with its thousands of bloody massacres, without blushing for his race, that it permits such refined atrocity ? Surely no one. Every heart rebels in- stinctively against slich massacres, and declares that no law and no gospel can " sanction " or " sanctify " them. Why, then, do they so often take place ? Why do not the people rise up en masse, and destroy the accursed gallows-tree, root and branch ? To these questions there are many answers : — but the principal and most vital one is, the opposition of the priesthood and the church, who can't tell the gallows from the cross to save their eyes, — but are constantly confounding them together as one and the same thing. The gallows is the pet child and most signifi- cant emblem of the church, and she nurses the hideous thing with more than maternal tenderness. The Calvinist priest hugs the gallows to his bosom as a sacred relic and talisman, — and so do nearly all his unearthly and inhuman brotherhood. The hal- ter is the principal rope in their ship — ^her " main stay," — and the gibbet her msivMnasU That noble hearted philanthropist, Charles THE PIONEER. Spear, tells me that in his crusade against the gibbet, he meets no such unrelenting and bitter opponents, as the popular clergy — especially the Orthodox. Under these favoring circumstances, many have petitioned the Legislature that as hanging is a protege of the church — nay her favorite and petted child, — that the reverend clergy should be the official hangmen, — and that Sunday— instead of Friday — should be the hangman's day. Friday, a common, unpretending, secular, working day, has been consigned to an " immortality of infamy " from the fact that from time immemorial it has been gallows-day. This ought not so to have been. Hanging,-^the church's favorite institution, ought from the first to have been performed on Sunday, — the church's favorite day. And if any particular Sunday is to be selected, it should be communion Sunday. And if one part of the church is more suitable for the bloody deed than any other, it is the pulpit, from which a man would hang with a more befitting grace than any where else ; for surely the pulpit, which has been dead-icated to the service of the gallows, and consecrated in the name of Jack Ketch (a name to many synonymous with Jesus Christ) could not be more appropriately decorated, than with the pendant bodies of its strangled victims. To hang a man out in the pure air of heaven, and allaw his blood to sprinkle the green and unconverted earth, is " out of all character." If the vile deed must be done, let it be within the walls of the ckurchi — and let the blood of the streaming carcass fall upon the " communion table," and mingle with the other " elements " of hef service. And let no common man undertake to handle the' " divine " halter. It is a rope which nobody ought to totiich but- the priest. Hanging should be one of the " perquisites " of his ofiice. If possiUe, the hangman should be a Doctoe of Divinity.- No man can stand too high in the chureh tti perform the act, — ^because it is pre-emi- nently a churchract — one of its highest duties, and most solemn ceremonials. To- many,^ this commori sense criticism wiU seem coarse and repulsive, because they have been trained up: to reverence the THE PIONEER. 97 priesthood, and, " with all its faults to love it still ! " But a care- ful examination of the position I have taken, will abundantly prove its correctness. Surely, if — as the church (and the community) assume — the gibbet is a Christian institution, one of the fruits of the Gospel of Peace, then it ought to be baptized " in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost," as one of the most solemn, most holy, most obligatory, and most instructive instru- ments at church disposal. And no time, and no place, and no man, ought to be too holy to administer its elevating rites. " Hangman," instead of being a name associated in our minds — as it now is — with all that is bloody, and brutal, and disgusting, — ought to be one of the most venerated titles in the community, and his office should rank as the " highest in the gift of the people ! " And the act of hanging ought to be done openly and proudly, as a brave and manly act, instead of " in a corner," and sneakingly, and as a mean and cowardly act, as now. Little children ought to be called together to witness it ; — they ought to " come unto " the halter, especially, " for of such is the kingdom of heaven; " but at present, despite of its pretended good influences, the children are deprived of its sweet lessons, and have to suffer for want of its noble and refreshing memories. And the reverend clergy who are so attached to the gallows, — are deprived of the excellent opportunities which its administration affords for learn- ing the Christian ex«rcise. This ought not so to be. There should be a Professor of Hanging in every " Divinity School " in the world, (except the Unitarian and Universalist, which — to their honor be it written — repudiate the gallows) where strangling should be taught as a science. T wouldn't recommend that the young " divines " should practice on each other, — lest they should learn that hanging people isn't doing as they would be done by, — which would be a lesson fatal to the institution ! It would be well for each school to import a French manikin or " modele d' homme," with an accommodating head and neck, (such as are sometimes seen on canes) for the young evangelists to practice on. And to render a study naturally so repulsive, in some. 14 98 THE PIONEER. degree attractive, it would be well to reward the most skilful hangmen in the class, with costly medals, — and both before and after the solemn " rehearsals," there ought to be a season of prayer and thanksgiving. Now in all this I am serious. I really think, that if the gibbet is the main stay of the church, — as it evidently is — if the priest- hood are right in thinking it a part and parcel of their religion — as they evidently are — then ought hanging to be taught in all their Divinity Schools as either one of the graceful exercises of their faith, or an important branch of theological gymnastics. Don't let anybody run away with the idea, that, in speaking of the Gallows-tree as of priestly growth, I have the least idea that it has any root in Christianity. Far from it. Nobody ever thought such a thing, — or dreamed it. The ideas of Christianity and the Gallows, are utterly irreconcileable, — perfect antipodes to each other. Jack Ketch is the perfect opposite of Jesus Christ ! Speaking on this subject, N. P. Rogers says, in his piquant style : — " Why is it, that the clergy are such sticklers for the gibbet? What does it do for them, that they so adhere to it? How does it benefit them, to have people hanged ? Are they afraid of being murdered ? Or are they afraid, if the death punishment is abolished, that all penal law will go with it, and none be left for the suppression of unauthorized speaking in meeting ? Will they perpetuate the gallows, to protect their meetings from the occasional free speech of a ' Comeouier ? ' Then are they supernaturally blood thirsty ! Or do they fear that if the idea gets footing in the world, that punishment is wicked, they shall be unable to maintain their vindictive character of God? Will their vindictive hell go down, do they fear, if men get to believing that tormenting is in itself wrong, and that therefore God cannot be a tormentor ? Are they afraid if men become tender-hearted — forgiving, loving toward wrong doers, that they will get to have a God of like character, and that the vengeful Jupiter of the Orthodox Divine, wUl no longer exist to excite servile fear and hatred in the human breast? What are they afraid of? What makes them love hanging so, beyond all other men ? Their profession has been thought a merciful one, compared with the soldier's and lawyer's. — Why then, when the lawyer and military officer, the O'SuUivans and the Davezacs, are earnest for the abolition of the gallows, are the clergy every- where so desperate for its continuance ? THE PIONEER. 99 They quote scripture in its defence. They cite old Levitical passages, against the demands of humanity for its abolition. Men show that capital punishment is utterly ineffectual, as well as cruel and barbarous. Humanity cries out against it, to the heavens. The very hangmen are getting to loath their abhorred office. It is proved that it not only does not hinder crime, but that it promotes it. That it does not prevent murders, or make them infre- quent, but multiplies them, and makes society murderous — makes homicide familiar to men's minds — and causes them to recur to it as a mode of retali- ation. It destroys the sacredness of human life, and the reverence for it that ought to pervade the human breast, and would, if it were not hardened by those bloody influences. The clergy quote scripture against all this light and love. They demand death, on the authority of their gloomy old text. I will not argue with them on their text. If they make out their old Mosaic, or Noaehic, or whatever text, in favor of hanging, I say at once, hang the text. A text, that really enjoins, or authorizes men, to hang one another, ought itself to be hung, by the common hangman, whose last official act should he the execution of a code thus written in human blood. It is self-evidently not God's law, to hang men, or to inflict the slightest intentional harm upon them. This, every body knows. Every priest knows it. No priest wishes to be hung himself, or in any way hurt or harmed, or even frightened. On what principle then, does he found his authority to hang or harm others ? Is it doing to them as he would be done by ? Nobody believes it, for a moment. Let him quote old texts then. I will not stop to argue his exposition. I put my foot on his text, in the name of God and Humanity. I would, even if I could not find a particle of authority in the New Testament for so doing. I would do it on my own motion. I knom this hanging is wicked. No man dare look humanity in the face, and say the contrary. He may skulk behind his text. He may solemnly ask, did not Samuel hew Agag— and was n't Saul punished for not killing Hagag, or whoever — I care not if they were. My God abhors hanging and hurting. I ought to abhor it — I do abhor it, and denounce it — and whoever bases it on a text I treat the text as I do the doctrine. Am I not right ? Every body knows I am, the globe over. There is not an Esquimaux, up where the nights are five months long, that does not know it intuitively, and would not at once acknowledge it, put the question to him, and let him speak independently of his priest. If they want to maintain the credit of their texts with me, they must not saddle them with gibbets and halters, or smear them with human blood. I will not meddle with their authority if they do not bring it in my way. But if they do, on a case so plain and palpable as this, I will dispose of it in the shortest possible manner. " Will you heave away Genesis ! " they cry. Yes ; if Genesis authorizes you to butcher my brother, or hang him like a dog. And 100 THE PIONEER. Exodus too, and Leviticus, and even Numbers — and as much hanging scrip- ture as you will bring on. I won't expound with you a moment on such a question as this. If you saddle scripture with the gallows, I will cry out against your scripture, and it is your own look out if it goes down. A scrip- ture that allows these human sacrifices must have a bloody priesthood. Instead of its sustaining the gallows, the gallows should sink the scripture as well as.the priest who quotes it, if he quotes truly. Every body's convictions will bear witness to this, if they dare trust their convictions. It is the voice of God universally. Ii is high time human life was held paramount to texts and ecclesiastics. I say nothing here of the overwhelming authority of the New Testament against the gibbet. I will not indulge the clergy by quoting it against them. It is a question I venture to settle, before I can get at a testament to open it. If a priest feels for my neck, with a halter in his hand, I will venture to remonstrate, if I am not within a mile of a text — or the recollection of one." THE GALLOWS-GOEES. BY THOMAS DUNN ENSLISH. Up and make ready, ye lovers of fun ! On with your holiday dress and be gay ! Now that the Sheriff has work to be done. Business with pleasure he mingles to-day. Some may go hunting with guns ! and a few, Kods in their hands, little fish may pursue ; Ours is the sport which is sanctioned by law, — We go a hanging — a hanging ! Hurrah ! Two months ago, on a rare, drunken bout, Billy, his comrade, the criminal slew ; Murder's a deed that is vile, without doubt — Ergo — the law will turn murderer too ! As to the place where the liquor he got — Liquor which maddened him — yonder's the spot. Sammy, who keeps it, approves of the law — He goes for hanging — for hanging ! Hurrah ! Bright shines the sun, on the place where you see Yonder tall gallows, substantial and bare ; Wait a few hours, and a fellow will be Dancing fandangoes of fun in the air. THE PIONEER. 101 Gathered in groups at the gallows, behold Parents and children, maids, wives, young and old, Waiting the time when the halter shall draw— They go for hanging — for hanging ! Hurrah ! Pick-pockets, plenty are — mark how they go Slyly and coolly to work at their trade ! Business is business, and people must know Too much attention to that can't be paid. Swearing, and fighting, and kicking, the crowd Utter their blasphemous curses aloud — Kighteous example is set by the law ; Good comes from hanging— from hanging ! Hurrah ! Look at the criminal ! please ye to look, Standing beside him, the hangman you see : There is the priest with his gown and his book — Galloping gaily, they go to the tree. Thanks to the priests, who the hangman befriend, Choking such knaves as 'twere labor to mend. Hanging, they say, is Levitioal law — Cheers for the clergy, they're Ghristiass ! Hurrah ! Firmly and proudly, the culprit looks round, Holding his head with a satisfied air ; Murmurs applauding go over the ground — Down pops the priest with the felon to prayer. " How interesting his looks are ! " says Ann. " Yes ! " answers Sal, "and he'll die like a man ! " Elegant talk for young maidens, but — pshaw ! Shout for the hanging— the hanging ! Hurrah ! Prayers are all finished, and now for the fun ; Over his features the cap has been drawn ; Ketch, and his comrade, the preacher, get down ; Crack! goes the whip, and the carriage moves on. Wonderful sight for the Christian to see ; Merrily dancing on nothing is he. Though there's no fiddler a hornpipe to saw, Light are his leaps — he's a hanging ! Hurrah ! After the rope had been severed in twain, Home go the people, and joyfully sing_; 102 THE PIONEER. Heaven will receive whom the gallows has slain- Does not the clergyman settle the thing ? Home go the people, and talk of it all, Children in nursery, servants in hall ; Bub hangs the cat, in the manner he saw Hung at the gallows, God's image ! Hurrah ! House ye, good clergymen, servants of God ! Stand by my side while I fight for your fun ; Hanging preserves us from shedding of blood ; Eemedy like it, there never was one. Eally your forces, thump pulpits, and be Clerical guards of the good gallows-tree ! "What if our Satiouk denounces the law? You go for hanging — for hanging ! Hurrah ! SOCIETY. " Society at the present time is obviously an orchestra without a leader, where each man's ambition is to make his own part most prominent without any reference to the whole." — Mrs. Child. The difficulty with Society is not that it lacks leaders, but that it abounds in them, and that they are ignorant of the first princi- ples of social harmony. The fact is, to quote the motto of the Globe, " the world is governed too much," or rather is governed subversively of the laws of nature. The law of love is super- seded by the law of force — and self-government is a thing not laid down in the books, unless with a penalty attached ! It is the grand lesson of civilization, sucked in with our mother's milk, and made the leaven of our daily bread ever after, that self must be immolated on the altar of sect. Thus all the instincts which God has implanted in our bosoms as so many beautiful flowers, are early trampled under foot, or choked out of life, by the weeds and stones of our artificial treatment. This puts an end to all simplicity of character, with here and there a bright exception, which only increases the social discord of the community, just as the finest strain of music breaking in upon a discordant band makes " confusion worse confounded." Society is indeed in per- THE PIONEER. 103 feet dis-harmony, not, as Mrs. Child has it, because " each man's ambition is to make his own part most prominent •without any reference to the whole," but because each man's ambition is to make his own part prominent with a view to the subordination of the whole. And so men get together in what they proudly call their legislative chambers, and vote away all individuality of character, all right of private judgment, all sanctity of conscience, all " freedom to worship God," — and subject to the direst penalties every one who dare put so much as a pebble against the tide of their despotism. Hence the discord of Society. It is governed out of all government, ruled out of all rule, ordered out of all order, legislated out of all law. The sacredness of private belief is thrown upon the altar fires of civilization as so much stubble. The aspirations of the human soul for an untrammelled life are treated as the idle wind. Obedience to the most humane instincts of the soul is a crime visited with greater severity than felony or rape — and the protest of Humanity (roused, for an instant, from its Lethean torpor) against such outrage upon the spirit of God, is silenced by an appeal to the Statute Book, or drowned by the rattling of constitutional parchment. An appeal to the council chambers of God and to its immutable decrees, as superior to the council chambers of Man and their fickle enactments, is treated as the singing of grasshoppers or the buzzing of insects ! The great God of the world is Human Government whose laws are written in blood ; engrossed on the parched skins of its " subjects ;" proclaimed from the powdered throat of Paixhan " Peace-makers "; enforced by organized cut-throats and pirates ; and sanctified by the Judas-prayers, and baptized by the Dead-sea waters of the church. The remedy for this dreadful state of things is not to seek for a new " leader," but to search out the principles of social harmony as they exist in the mind of the great Creator, who is Love — i. e. Harmony made perfect, — and in our lives and conversations vindicate their divine beauty, and assert their eternal supremacy. And this is no child's play— except indeed as it unites the sim- 104 THE PIONEER. plicity and truthfulness of childhood with the wisdom and energy of the mature man. To say that God intended this vile discord, " making a nuisance of his blessed air," and leading us almost to pray that its jarring sounds may be swallowed up by the crack of doom, — is as profane as it is preposterous, — although it is part and parcel of the hateful and vindictive theology of the age. No. It is plain that the destiny of man is a state of peace and plenty, of happiness and virtue — a destiny to be wrought out not by miraculous interposition, but by the illimitable energy of his own nature. CHILDHOOD. BT CBAKLES LAMB. In my poor mind it is most sweet to muse Upoa the days gone-by : to act in thought Past seasons o'er, and be again a child ; To sit in infancy on the turf-clad slope, Down which the child would roll ; to pluck gay flowers, Make posies in the sun, which the child's hand (Childhood offended soon, soon reconciled,) Would throw away, and straight take up again, Then fling them to the winds, and o'er the lawn. Bound with so playful and so light a foot That the pressed daisy scarce declined her head. THE PIONEER. 105 MISFORTUNE A CAUSE OF INTEMPERANCE. I think misfortune one great cause of intemperance. It is a common remark that " intemperance is the parent of poverty." But it is not often enough remarked that " poverty is the parent of intemperance." It is true that the drunken man is on the road to poverty. In his drunken moments he is useless, — in his sober times, imbecile. He soon becomes helpless : — " Our torments may, in length of time. Become our elements, — our temper Changed into their temper." But how often is it that grim want drives a man to despair, — and despair to intemperance. Solomon says: — "Give strong drink unto him that is ready to perish, and wine unto those that be of heavy heart." The troubled man, remembering these words, per- haps, and forgetting that Solomon in his better moments said : — *' Wine is a mocker : strong drink is a raging, and whoever is deceived thereby is not wise," and that at last " it biteth like a serpent and stingeth like an adder," — deserts his home for the dram-shop, — ^his children for tipplers, — ^his wife for the barmaid, — and is soon " swallowed up of wine." In his sober moments, when his reason struggles to be heard, and his heart beats with remorse, his little child, unconscious of her father's extremity of woe, looks up with streaming eyes, and asks for bread. The poor man's brain is maddened. He has no bread. He rushes, frantic, from the house, and is soon lost again in the dreadful unconsciousness of the sot. The bar has been his misfortune, and now his misfortune is his bar. Some cold night he steals home- ward, temperate perhaps from necessity, and he asks himself: — " What, what shall I do to be saved from poverty, intemperance, and death?" He meets an old, and more prosperous friend, — a neighbor perhaps. He is treated with ill-concealed contempt. A rebuke more biting than the frost, cuts his soul to the quick. 15 106 THE PIONEER. He feels that he is out of the pale of human sympathy, — that the holy " circumnavigation of charity " encompassethnot him. He perhaps is seized upon in some reeling moment, and taken to a house of correction ; he is arrayed in the uniform of disgrace ; — the hrand of infamy is put upon his brow, till " it goes hissing to the bone." Now he feels lost. He serves out his time in the house of disgrace, and returns to the community. But his self- respect is gone. He feels that he is separated from the world by a gulph which no power can compass. In this hour of his peril, he remembers treacherous friends, — the butterflies which delighted to hover about him in the sunny days of his prosperity, but in this day of gloom and thick darkness, are oflf basking in the sunshine of some more smiling face. His social connexions are broken up. What motive to him to become sober ? How can he stand the cold glance of compassion ? How can he brook the superciUous gaze ? Goaded by such thoughts, he knows not what to do ? He lives along, or rather dies along, from day to day, until his name is recorded on earth as a victim of intemperance — and in heaven as a victim of misfortune ! Take another case. Some child of suffering, just fallen from the high estate of wealth, having learned of the world that money is the one thing needful, hopes to retrieve his name by a desperate move. If successful he knows, by observation, that he will be applauded with the world's huzzas, and take rank as a smart finan- cier ; if unsuccessful, he will be branded as a knave. He is unsuccessful. He is thrown from the highest seats in the syna- gogue to the lowest. He is discouraged. He is pelted nigh unto death ; when, had the guiltless only persecuted him, no stone had been thrown. He is led into evil ways. He departs from the strict line of right. A captious world pounces upon him. His reputation is gone. His character is played with like a toy. He feels that his game is up, — his sun has set. He feels himself on the verge of the world, and wishes himself out of it. He becomes morose and misanthropic. There is no beauty for him. The rays of the sun pierce not his bosom ; — the birds have no song THE PIONEER. 107 for his ear; — the loveliness of the flowers is wasted upon his eye ; — and their fragrance is no fragrance to him : — " The primrose by the river's brim The yellow primrose is to him, But nothing more." The innocent prattle of children is torment to his nerves, — and all sweet sounds seem to him as " making a nuisance of the blessed air." In this mind his language is : — It is too late. I cannot go back. The world does not want me. I do not want the world. Never again can I be respected. My lot is cast. I must live as a miserable outcast. The places that once knew me will refuse to know me more. I am held up as a warning to children ; trembling old men tremble more when they meet me, — and young men and maidens pass me by on the other side. " So farewell hope, and with hope farewell fear. Farewell remorse ; all good to me is lost"; Evil, be thou, my good!" " I will drink and forget my poverty, and remember my misery no more." This is no fancy sketch. It has laid me under no debt to the imagination. I wish it had. It answers to many a history, as face answers to face in the glass. The misfortune of such men has pushed them to the very verge of society — crushed them against its towering walls ; until they have sunk to the earth living . sacrifices at the shrine of Mammon ; and, ere long, were offered up again lifeless victims on the altar of Bacchus. Now had such men been treated like men, had the spirit of Christianity been spread over them as a shield — they might have been saved. But no. Society keeps its brands of infamy hot for use. It builds prisons, and erects gallows, and multiplies houses of correction : but it has yet to learn that crime is not to be crvshed out of existence ; that the heart of man does not thrive on frowns ; — that persecution is not the handmaid to virtue. Let me not be misconceived. There must, in the present state of society, be houses of reformation — there must be prisons provided, they lOS THE PIONEEE. embrace in their machinery incentives to virtue, and do not tend to " break the bruised reed ; " houses of correction, too, so they be not houses of destruction : .stone jails, too, if they have not stone hearts ; — but all these things should be corrective. But under no circumstances should men be imprisoned, because of their poverty, or their debt. The laws are much improved in respect of these things, — and what has been done I trust is an earnest of much more. Men are to be kept from iniquity by the beauty of holiness ; and not by the fear of punishment. Few men enlist in the service of Satan willingly. They, for the most part, are driven there by misfortune, or led blindfold by igno- rance. I see in this new temperance movement the sign of better things. I look upon it as a new covenant. I feel that the world is to be better for it, — that it will be felt more deeply than of yore, that the gentle influences of love are more powerful than the harsh restraints of law; — that if we would induce a man to cast off the garments of iniquity, we must warm his heart by the sun-shine of affection, and not chill it by the cutting blasts of persecution. It is this idea which is the central truth of all true reform. It goes to the foundation of the matter. It sees into the heart of things. It touches the secret springs of the soul. As this idea is apprehended in its significance, it will be incorporated into the soul of the community. Misfortune will not then be the high road to intemperance and crime ; the loss of property will not be followed by the loss of self-respect ; — men will not be stoned because they have faltered in the way ; every man will be recog- nized as a brother. When the heart is heavy, and the spirit sad, the child of misfortune will not attempt to drown his errors in a poisonous draft, but will retreat into the bosom of a generous society where his wounds shall be healed, and his whole character be strengthened for the performance of duty. The human mind craves excitement. It is " the life of its life." Without it, the soul grows languid, its wings droop, and, aspiring no more to reach the Empyrean, it sinks into ignoble THE PIONEER. 109 obscurity. If Society fails to afford the necessary stimulus to the downcast spirit, it retires within itself until its own resources are all exhausted, and hopeless enfiui stareS it in the face, and then, in a fit of desperation, spurred on by a necessity which knows no law, it bids defiance to all the rules of society, and plunges into low and debasing excitements, until the image of God is wholly effaced, and another human being has crossed the dreadful gulf which separates man from the brute. If we would prevent such disasters, if we would save the soul from pollution, we must not exclude any man from the pale of our sympathies. Remember that every time you treat a brother lightly, you are doing your uttermost to drive him from the healthful influences of humanity into morbid misanthropy, and utter recklessness of character. — To the unfortunate man himself, whose earthly prospects seem blighted, who feels himself alone in society, solitary in a crowd, I would say : — If society heed you not in this day of your adversity, if old friends cast you off, and you feel that life is but a poor show, and that all is vanity and vexation, prove yourself a man by showing yx)urself superior to the world. " To thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thoa canst not then be false to any man." Live an independent life. If the world looks upon you with scornful eye, care not for its idle glance. Live truly. Cultivate the higher faculties of your nature. Make it manifest that you can brave the frowns of the world. Remember that the character becomes dry and barren as a desert, if exposed only to the sun- shine of the world. The terrific thunder, which makes the earth tremble to its centre, does not more surely purify the air, and give a new impulse to vegetable life, than do the startling adversities of our lot wake up the soul to a new energy, and quicken it into a new life. The noble tree of the forest, though it may bend almost to the earth when the storm rages, is yet gaining strength all the while, and its roots are spreading wider and deeper, that it no THE PIONEER. may be prepared for other and more dangerous gales. And so the soul of the genuine man, though it may tremble and sigh when the storm rages, and say with Job : — " Let the day perish wherein I was born, — and as for that night let dark- ness seize upon it. Let the stars of the twilight thereof be dark ; let it look for light but have none ; neither let it see the dawning of the day," — yet it will grow firmer and firmer as the storm rages, and illus- trate the great truth that the soul may be superior to the afflic- tions of life. Whether born to adversity or prosperity, show that you are prepared. It has been said " a man was not born to prosperity, but to suffer for the benefit of others, like the noble rock maple which all around our villages bleeds for the service of man." Let the winds blow, and the waves of society beat and frown about you if they will, but keep your soul in rectitude, and it will be firm as a rock. Plant yourself upon principle and bid defiance to misfortune. If Gossip with her poisoned tongue meddle with your good ndme, if her disciples, who infest every town and hamlet, make your disgrace the burden of their song, heed them not ; it is their bread and their meat to slander ; treat their idle words as you would treat the hissing of a serpent or the buzzing of many insects. Carry yourself erect ; and by the serenity of your countenance, and the purity of your life, give the lie to all who would berate and belittle you. Why be afraid of any man ? Why cow and tremble in the presence of the rich ? Why " Crook the pregnant hinges of the knee That thrift may follow fawning ? " Why care for the frowns of an artificial society ? — No ! No ! friend, fear them not ; — fear them not ! Build up your character with holy principles ; and if your path be not strown with flowers, let it be beautiful with the light of a divine life ; and you will leave behind you a noble example, which will be to the world a perennial flower whose leaves will be a healing to the nations, and its fragrance the panacea of the soul. Above all, never let adversity drive you to the intoxicating cup. THE PIONEER. Ill That would be leaping from the fires of earth which purify, to the fires of hell which destroy : — " Clasp your teeth, and not undo, 'em. To suffer wet damnation to run through 'em." Let the frightful experience of every drunkard teach you that it is indeed madness to hope to forget your sorrows in a sensual life. FAITH. BT B. S. S. ANDBOS. A swallow in the spring Came to our granary, and 'neath the eaves Essayed to make her nest, and there did bring "Wet earth and straw and leaves. Day after day she toiled With patient art, but ere her work was crowned. Some sad mishap the tiny fabric spoiled, And dashed it to the ground. She found the ruin wrought : Yet not cast down, forth from her place she flew. And with her mate, fresh earth and grasses brought. And built her nest anew. But scarcely had she placed The last soft feather on its ample floor, When wicked hand, or chance, again laid waste. And wrought the ruin o'er. But still her heart she kept, And toiled again : and, last night, hearing calls, I looked, and lo ! three little swallows slept Within the earth-made walls. What truth is here, man ! Hath HOPE been smitten in its earlier dawn ? Have clouds o'ercast thy purpose, trust, or plan ? Have FAITH and struggle on ! 112 THE PIONEER. THE LIBERATOR. This " eagle-spirited " sheet celebrates the new year by coming out in an entirely new and very handsome suit. I rejoice at this sign of its prosperity and hope it will be a type of a corres- ponding advance in the beauty and power of its spirit. Its intrepid editor has the unparalleled honor of having first raised the banner of immediate emancipation in this country, and for fourteen long years of pain and peril, bearing it aloft with heroic courage and defending it with wonderful skill. But the " end is not yet.'' The work is not " finished." Many a stern battle is yet to be fought. Many scenes of trial and temptation are yet to be witnessed. The enemy is resolved, in his desperation, to " die game " — and many are the deep laid schemes, and ferocious onsets which must be met. The times, therefore, call for renewed diligence, increased watchfulness, and unheard-of toils and sacrifices. In this emergency, the little army of abolitionists — the forlorn hope of the slave — is looking to the Liberator, if not for the word of command, certainly for the word of counsel. The position of friend Garrison, therefore, is one of peculiar, and considering the disabled condition of the Herald of Freedom, critical delicacy. One might well shrink from the fear- ful weight of responsibility which rests upon his shoulders. It is greater than any human being can long bear, greater than any one ought to bear for an instant. The services of such giant men as O'Connell, Mathew, Garrison, Rogers, and Phillips, compel them, as society is, into a position which is neither safe for them- selves nor society. It clothes them with an unnatural authority, which too often usurps the place of reason in the minds of their admirers, and becomes fruitful of bigotry and narrow-mindedness. Mr. Garrison's invaluable labors, conducted as they have been with masterly ability, have invested him with this unnatural authority to a most dangerous extent, and it will require the most watchful care, both on his own part and on the part of his admirers THE PIONEEB. 113 — of whom I am certainly one — ^to prevent its leading to most disastrous results. The thought is expressed on every hand that there is reasonable fear that the Anti-Slavery enterprize will degenerate into a sect, and its ministers into a priesthood. God forbid. For if any sect is to be dreaded above all others, it is one clothed with, the free raiment of Anti-Skvery : and if any order of priesthood is to be shunned above all others as a wasting pesti- lence, it is that which usurps the high name of Humanity. Even the thought that Anti-Slavery is liable to such a contingency is most appalling. Oh, let there be one movement so perfectly sat- urated with freedom that it shall be " far above all principalities, and powers, and might, and dominion, and every name that is named ! " Freed from all slavery to names and persons, and stripped of all the trappings of authority, our movement must advance with rapid stride. But subject it never so little to indi- vidual or authoritative caprice and it will soon limp into an ignoble grave. These thoughts are naturally suggested by reflecting on the immense power which Friend Garrison wields from his sceptred position as conductor of his pioneer press, — and remembering the aptitude of our poor broken-spirited race, to submit itself to the rein and bit. How friend Garrison will sustain himself on the dizzy heights of his present position, remains to be seen. If he uses his power as not abusing it, never for one instant attempting to " lord it over God's heritage," keeping up with the onward march of Freedom, neither subjecting himself nor any one else to the trammels of precedent or majority, — then his course will be onward and upward, and every tone of his voice will be music to exhausted Humanity, and every stroke of his pen will be feh in the very vitals of slavery. But if he becomes aweary of progress, and turns fearfully away from fresh innovations upon tyranny and bolder annunciations of thought, then his " eagle-spirit " will be " tamed," and, incapable longer of breathing the pure air of the Empyrean he will draggle along on the earth with broken wing 16 114 THE PIONEER. and wandering eye, furnishing another illustration to those which already crowd the page of history, — of the decline and fall of regal genius ! The Liberator hitherto has, with perhaps one exception, heen the freest press in the world. To maintain this enviable position, it must continue to progress, freeing itself as much as possible from all technical restraint. It must have no platform narrower than human rights,— no banner which will not enfold all truth. It must be zenith-high above all political " ways and means '-' — reliant entirely upon moral agencies to accomplish its peerless purpose. It must avoid, with jealous care, oppressing the human mind with any kind of authority, and discuss every thought upon its own proper merits, utterly irrespective of the ehaiacter of its source or advocacy. Such a course as this will tend to disfranchise all within its sphere of that man-worship, creed-worship, and book-worship, which constitute the triple bulwark of error in every heart. And this disfranchisement is of primary importance to eveiy disciple of Freedom. One of the thoughts which "reconcile me to the sudden death of the late Herald of Freedom is that when the health of its truth- inspired editor will permit him to resume his pen, he will be likely to enlarge the field of his action, and give an impetus to the cause so dear to his heart — ^the cause of liberty— by rendering it a less technical, and therefore more energetic support. He will not be even under the suspicion of organship, or toolship, and will be free even from an apparent obligation to put the least curb upon his tameless spirit. His late experience must have taught him the great lesson of individuality in such a manner as to secure for it henceforth, his unlimited advocacy. This is the lesson which the community is pining for the want of. It is — this " individuality," this absolute freedom of the individual— the grand specific for, nearly all the ills to which soui is heir. When the harassed and chain-worn multitude look in upon our move- ment and find it embarrassed by the same forms and formajities THE PIONEER. Hi to which they have been so long thrall', or notice the least particle of that dictatory and domineering spirit which precludes them from individual freedom in their present position — they will be repulsed from us, and return to the world's great chain-gang in utter despair. But if they find us animated by the spirit of brotherhood, jealously respectful of the rights of all, especially the weak and unfortunate, acting each on his own individual respon- sibility, without " let or hindrance," — they will be captivated by the unusual scene, and will long to be themselves united to that " sweet society," who recognize the only " bond of peace " to be " unity of spirit." With these ex tefnpore thoughts, which came skelping along too fast for me to clothe them in better garb, 1 wish the lAberator " a happy new year." A CHRISTMAS CAROL. BY S. T. COtEBIDGE. The shepherds went their hasty way, And fonnd the lonely stable-shed Where the virgin-mother lay : And BOW they checfc'd their eager tread ; Fch; to the babe, that at her bosom dang, A mother's song the virgin-mother sung. They told her how a glorions light. Streaming from a heavenly throng,. Around them shone, suspending, flight I While sweeter than, a mother's song, Blessed angels heralded the glorious birth, " Glory to God on high ! " and "Peace on earth ! " She listened to the tale divine, And closer still the babe she press'd And while she cried — " the babe is mine," The milk rushed faster to her breast : Joy rose within her, like a summer morn : Peace, "Peace on Earth ! " The "Prince of Peace" is born. 116 THE PIONEER. The mother of the "Prince of Peace," Poor, simple, and of low estate, — That strife should vanish, battle cease, Oh why should this thy soul elate ? Sweet music's loudest note, the poet's story, — Didst thou ne'er love to hear of fame and glory ? And is not war a youthful king, A stately hero clad in mail ? Beneath his footsteps laurels spring ; Him earth's majestic monarchs hail Their friend, their playmate ! and his bold bright eye Compels the maiden's love-confessing sigh. " Tell this in some more courtly scene. To maids and youths in robes of state ! I am a woman poor and mean. And therefore is my soul elate. War is a ruffian, all with guilt defiled, That from the aged father tears his child ! " A murderous fiend, by fiends adored, He kills the sire, and starves the son ; The husband kills, and from her board Steals all his widow's toil has won : Plunders God's world of beauty ; rends away All safety from the night, all comfort from the day. "Then wisely is my soul elate, • That strife should vanish, battle cease ' ; I'm poor and of a low estate, The mother of the "Prince of Peace," Joy rises in me, like a summer's morn : Peace, "Peace on Earth ! " The "Prince of Peace" is born ! THE PIONEER. 117 REFORM INSTRUMENTALITIES. It is Sunday night. I have just returned from one of Human- ity's meetings, and am too full of its enlivening spirit to think of repose. It was not an appointed meeting, except in the general order of Providence, but was a spontaneous gathering of a room- fuU of free spirits, met for no special purpose, and confined, there- fore, to no special topics. In course of the conversation, which at no time degenerated into speech-making, the great question of human rights, in many of its most important bearings, was con- sidered : and as we were restricted by none of the tyrannical formalities of organized bodies, but were left to the free utterance of our convictions, tfie discussion was very free and familiar, and resulted in the great edification of all present. It was one of those meetings which stand first and foremost among reform in- strumentalities ; for it was without a single authoritative trammel. It was a living protest against formal and conventional assem- blages, and a triumphant affirmation of the incomparable excel- lence and efficiency of entire freedom of speech. You should have been there to feel how beyond all expression it refreshes and strengthens one to be loosed for a while from this great cage which we call Government, and allowed to range abroad at will without let or bar. Our self-constituted keepers see unimagina- ble dangers in our being at large in this way,, and are for nar- rovring our cage and shortening our chain. If we don't shiver the bars and snap the chain, now that we may do it if we will, we shall soon be drawn down to the ringbolt and starved into imbecility. It is a great leap from the fenced and spiked limits of an icy conventionalism on to the illimited and illimitable plain of absolute freedom, — and it isn't strange that on first pressing its green soil, and feeling the exquisite sense of entire emancipation, one is disposed to caper about with what seems to those who are peeping at him through the prison bars, a most unreasonable and extravagant joy. But if extravagance ever has a sure defence, it lis THE PIONEER. is when indulged in by a freed slave, and if there is a freed slave in the universe it is he who has cut the last strand which binds him to the footstool of human authority, or any other save the absolute authority of his awn free conmcti07is. Whoever have done this " shall mount up with wings as eagles : they shall run and not be weary : and they shall walk and not. faint." As we sal by each other on the occasion which has suggested these "extravagances," it was truly inspiring to see how a new thought, uttered by one of the men or women, would fly round the magic circle like electricity, waking every one into new life; with its pleasant shock, and leaving a bright spark in every eye. It was delightful, too, to feel thei absence of all order, or rather all " rules of order." I suppose, in point of feet, we had that highest order, the " order of nature "—a kind of order not "made and provided." for in Jefferson's Manual^ aad which isi contraband to all Parliaments, and utterly extraneous and irreb-' vant to all chairmen. I wish our friends Gaarrison and Foster and Quiacy and Chapman had been with us:^ for it sdems to mei they would have seen the beauties of Unshackled speech, so finely illustrated, that they could never again rest ea«y under the orderly' control of a chairman appdinted to> irK)ddra.te: them, and would never again consent to Biultgect anti-slavery to anything bat its own will, moderate or immoderate ! However, the time is coming, is nigh at hand, when the surges of free thought wili break over iJie petty chains which are iasSndy used to stay itsi bold carefiji, aa uneoncernedly as the restless surges of the sea. rolled over the fetters of poor Xerxesi But to oui meeting agaisn. The prevailing, presiding diought, was that dur reform movement should utterly repudiate all politic cal insftruHientailiAiea whatsoever, and devote the whole of its' inajmense eneirgiesr to the inculcatiom of simple truth. E veity othear coarse was. represented as ruinous. The idea, of calling, upon palitieians to- use any of their murderous tools in our behalf, was exp«)S€id by showing that they were utterly useless for anything but mischief. Every argument which ingenuity could devise THE PIONEER. 119 was adduced in favor of calling upon our state and national legis- latures to put their engines upon our track j but it was shown that they were infinitely too narrow for that purpose, and if placed there would only tear up the ground, upset the cars, get our enterprise into hot water, and dash us to pieces like a potter's vesseL In fine, the broad ground was taken that about the only thing we have to do with governments is to protest against their exis- tence and call upon them in the high name of Humanity instantly to disband. To do this, with our professions, is noble, — but to go creeping up to theii crimson thrones with petitions " praying them " to " abolish slavery in the District of Columbia " by the crushing force of their authority j and asking them to place them- selves at the Soudi end of our Eden to keep out Texas with a '♦ flaming sword ;'' seemed to some of us most unworthy and ignoble, axul in flat contEadictiou to our moral suasion professions. The main sugs^estion in reply to these thoughts was, that we ought to petition these armed bodies to repeal dieir iniquitous laws, to undo their vile work. To this the ready answer was, that we had no objectdon to calling upon them to wndo anything which could be undone without the use of the sword, and espec- ially t» guit doing eveffythinig ; but that we oonldn't call upon them to dSo a single thing, because they have hint one instrumental- ity and that the sword. 120 THE PIONEEE. THE TRUTH. The truth must always triumph in the end. Her light may be for a time obscured by the clouds of ignorance, distorted by the mists of superstition, or concealed by mountains of prejudice ; but she is omnipotent, and inspires her true disciples with a perennial faith which will shine through the clouds, dissipate all mists and remove mountains. The glittering host of Pride may be arrayed against her : Am- bition may put his iron heel upon her cause : Selfishness may essay to elude or vanish her : but all in vain. As well might they attempt to stay the incoming of the tide, or circumscribe the light of the stars. Amidst all their vain babblings and all their noisy conflict, she remains in unchangeable beauty and unweak- ened power. With form erect, and countenance beaming with hope, she looks mildly upon her enemies ; and before the steady light of her eye, they quail and quiver like the reed in a storm. Like the Sun, she presses forward in her path, in sublime dig- nity and grandeur. She heeds not the roaring tempest, and for her the arrowy lightning has no terror. Error may spread his black wings 'twixt her and the earth ; but into her breast he can send no alarm. His startling voice disturbs not her quiet ; his ominous notes are not ominous to her. The " shadow of his coming " darkens not her countenance, but as he moves stealthily on in his dark path, she pursues her appointed way like an Angel of Light ; and when Error has passed away into oblivion, she shines forth upon the world, with a more ravishing light, and a more quickening power. " Truth struck to earth will rise again, The eternal years of God are hers ; But error, wounded, writhes with pain, And dies amid her worshippers." THE PIONEER. 121 MILITARY COMPANIES. An organized priesthood is bad enough, — and an organized doctor-hood ; but organized revenge, incorporated hate, is a tres- pass upon the moral sense, which is intolerable. The idea of a body of respectable human beings accoutreing themselves -with desperate looking knives, and murderous guns with bayonets " fixed " in 'em, and parading about a peaceable community which never covld have done anything bad enough to deserve such an infliction, is preposterous, really. And then what- consummate foolery it is, especially in dog-day weather, for able-bodied human creatures to "wad themselves out with cotton enough to defend another New Orleans, and disfigure themselves with those ugly bob-tail coats ! And those ungainly things, two or three stories higli, called caps, ornamented with long tail-feathers tipped with blood, and as comfortless and heavy as if made of cast-iron, — why in the name of common sense will men lug such " traps " about on their heads ? Poor fellows, as they walk along, — no, not walk, that is beyond their military competency, but march — as they march along, then, widi their fine brows dented and dimmed by these — I had almost said fools'-caps, — and their breasts puffed out with the great American staple, and their whole uni- form so arranged as to produce the greatest possible amount of discomfort, — the big sweat stands out upon their faces like dew, and but for the sense of the ridiculous which it excites, their jaded appearance would melt the community to tears. And then their "arms," — of what possible use are they, save to "hew and hack " these poor bodies of ours, which in their best estate are none too comely or comfortable ? And which of those fine young fellows wants to use the hateful things for any such purpose ? — Not one of them. They have not — as a rule — a whit of that murderous spirit which their guns and knives represent. They submit to the foolery of wearing them because it is fashionable, — and withal a little heroic. And that's not all. The din and 17 122 THE PIONEER. drudgery of common life are so monotonous and wearisome, that the tired soul, eager for relaxation, seizes hold of anything which affords the least contrast or change, whether it be a com- pany of independent soldiers, or an independent company of" Odd Fellows." Anything for a change. Provide healthful social arrangements for the people, and let their homes be what they should, — the abodes of peace, and purity, and plenty, — and this feverish thirst for something frivolous and extravagant, as a relief from the exhausting toil for bread, — will give way to a love of truth and beauty, and a life of tranquility and peace. But so long as society compels men to labor beyond their strength, and fails to provide proper means of amusement arid recreation, and so long as social intercourse is embarrassed by all manner of cold- hearted restraints and embarassments, so long men will continue to indulge themselves in their present absurd practices, and the land will be cumbered with every species of destructive organi- zation. NOT ON THE BATTLE FIELD. BY JOHN PIEKPONT. ' To fall on the battle-fleld fighting for my dear country — that would not be hard." The Neiqhboss. no, no, — let me lie Not on a field of battle, when I die ! Let not the iron tread Of the mad war-horse crush my helmed head : Nor let the reeking knife, That I have drawn against a brother's life, Be in my hand when death Thunders along, and tramples me beneath His heavy squadron's heels, Or gory felloes of his cannon's wheels. From such a dying bed, Though o'er it float the stripes of white and red, And the bald eagle brings THE PIONEER. 123 The clustered stars upon his wide-spread wings, To sparkle in mj sight, 0, never let my spirit take her flight ! I know that beauty's eye Is all the brighter where gay pennants fly. And brazen helmets dance. And sunshine flashes on the lifted lance : I know that bards have sung, And people shouted till the welkin rung In honor of the brave Who on the battle-field have found a grave : — I know that o'er their bones Have grateful hands piled monumental stones. Some of those piles I've seen : The one at Lexington upon the green "Where the first blood was shed, And to my country's independence led ; And others, on our shore. The "Battle Monument" at Baltimore, And that on Bunker's Hill. Ay, and abroad, a few more famous still ; Thy " tomb " Themistocles, That looks out yet upon the Grecian seas. And which the waters kiss That issue from the gulf of Salamis. And thine, too, have I seen, Thy mound of earth, Patroclus, robed in green. That, like a natural knoll, Sheep climb and nibble over as they stroll, Watched by some turbaned boy, Upon the margin of the plain of Troy. Such honors grace the bed, I know, whereon the warrior lays his head. And hears, as life ebbs out. The conquered flying, and the conquerer's shout. But as his eye grows dim. What is a column or a mound to him ? What, to the parting soul. The mellow note of bugles? What the roll 124 THE PIONEER. Of drums ? No, let me die Where the blue heaven bends o'er me lovingly, And the soft summer air, As it goes by me, stirs my thin white hair, And from my forehead dries The death-damp as it gathers, and the skies Seem waiting to receive My soul to their clear depths ! Or let me leave The world, when round my bed Wife, children, weeping fri'ends are gathered, And the calm voice of prayer And holy hymning shall my soul prepare^ To go and he at rest With kindred spirits, — spirits who have blessed The human brotherhood By labors, cares,, and counsels for their good. In my dying hour, When riches, fame, and honor have no power To bear the spirit up. Or from my lips to turn aside the cup That all must drink at last, 0, let me draw refreshment from the past ! Then let my soul run back, With peace and joy, along my earthly track. And see that all the seeds That I have scattered there, in virtuous deeds, Have sprung up, and have given, Already, fruits of which to taste in heaven ! And though no grassy mound Or granite pile says 'tis heroic ground Where my remains repose, Still will I hope — vain hope perhaps ! — that those Whom I have striven to bless, The wanderer reclaimed, the fatherless,, May stand around my grave, With the poor prisoner, and the poorest slave, And breathe an humble prayer. That they may die like him whose bones are mouldering there. i THE PIONEER. 125 THE DUTIES OF MASTEES AND SLAVES, KESPECTIVELY, OR DOMESTIC SERVITDDE AS SANCTIONED BY THE BIBLE : A DISCOURSE DELIVERED Bt THE SOVERNMENT STREET OHUKOH, MOBILE, ALA., BY REV. W. T. HAMILTON, D. D., PASTOR OF SAID CBUEOH, OK SUNDAY NISHT, DEC. 15, 1844. MOBILE : PUBLISHED BY F. H. BROOKS, WHOLESALE BOOKSELLER, 1845. The above is the title of a discourse, for a copy of which I am indebted to the courtesy of the author. It differs from the dis- courses preached by New England clergymen, on the subject of sliavery, in being bold, frank, and unshrinking, instead of tame, non-committal, atnd cowardly. It is also written in a simple unpretending style, adapted to the rudest comprehension, and well calculated to leave a deep impres- sion. But here all praise must stop ; for as for the sentiments of the book, they are atrocious, — so much so, as to require the great- est stretch of charity to consider that the author, or any body else, ever honestly entertained them. The " divine " takes for his text, the 1st verse of the 4th chap- ter of Paul's Epistle to the Colossians : — "Masters give unto your servants that which is just and equal f knowing that you also have a master in heaven." Now any body whose commoa sense had not been ^dacateJ out of him in a divinity schoof, or who tad not graduated fromi some theological tread-mill, would want ntf better text than this, from which to preach the most radical Anti-Slavery sentiments which ever adorned the lips of man. Eead it. " MasteTs give" unto your servants that which is just and equat. Is it " jnst" to keep back a man's wages ? Is it " just " to deprive him of the privilege of locomotion ? Is it " just " to sell hiirt t Is this the equality of which the apoBtle spoke ? Is this a sample of his Justice? If so, then Paul was a tyrant, and had gone back to his old trade of persecuting Christians, and was wielding his Damas- cene blade against the dearest rights of man. If he really meant 126 THE PIONEER. to make a mockery of truth in this way, and intended, as this Mobilian divine says he did, to apply the words " just " and " equal " to chattel slavery, then St. Paul was as great a villain as the tyrant Nero, who beheaded him. "Ye also have a master in heaven," — says the apostle, meaning, as one would suppose from the context, a kind Father, a benig- nant God. But if the writer was apologising for slavery, as he was according to Dr. Hamilton, then he meant that we " also have a slave-masiei in heaven," — in which case heaven and hell must be synonymes. If God is our master in that sense, he is a despot, and it is no wonder men every where are in " rebellion " against him. But every body that knows anything of the New Testament — a description which excludes nearly the whole race of theologians, — knows that the God of which that book teaches, is a kind Father, who cannot look upon iniquity without abhor- rence. And yet Dr. Hamilton thinks God has a complacent eye for Southern Slavery ; that he sees babies sold by the pound, and women by the dozen, with approval ; that he made one class of his children to be owned by another ; and that he, (Hamilton,) of course, is one of the owners " elect." This is " election " with a witness, — and an " election," and a " calling " which the learned divine means to make " sure." But the principal thought I have in my mind in this connexion is (and I ask the readers' special attention to it) — suppose Paul did mean, when he said — " masters give unto your servants that which is just and eqtial," — "masters give Tiot unto your servants that which is just and equal, — but on the contrary enslave them, hold them as chattels, and thus trample justice and equity under your feet ?" Would that make it right ? Can Paul, or ApoUos, or any body, make it right to convert a human being into a piece of property, and treat him as a thing ? No, — and if Paul had advocated any such colossal wickedness in his epistle to the " saints and faithful brethren which are at Colosse," there wasn't one of them, young as they were in the principles of truth, who would not have treated him as another Judas Iscariot. THE PIONEER, 127 It is high time the people were made to feel that wrong is wrong, and right is right, scripture or no scripture. And when these priests come to us and try to prove that slavery, or any other crime, is sanctioned hy the Bihle, — ^we ought not to stop to discuss the matter with them, but answer at once : — " If that is a true saying of yours, then the Bible is an infamous book, and ought to be scouted out of all decent society." Now here is Dr. Hamilton, whose influence over his people is no doubt very great, gilding over the black institution of American despotism with the light of scripture. And so he deceives their moral sense, and lulls them into spiritual death. He says (page 6) " I take the gronad distinctly and emphatically, that domestic servitude, as found among us at the South, (however undesirable it may be in some respects,) is not in itself sinful. The Bible plainly recognizes it ; and the sin of slavery, (for there is much sin attending it,) springs not from the nature of ' tJie relation, but from the neglect of duty of the master ! ! " Now I " take the ground distinctly and emphatically " that if the Bible teaches any such thing, every copy of it ought to be served as Paul (or somebody) served the Ephesian letters. — Theodore Weld is said to have annihilated the Bible defence of slavery. But who cares whether he did or not ? Anti-Slavery stoops when she condescends to any such verbal warfare. If slavery is " weld-ed in " to the Bible, (instead of " Weld "-ed out) as J. Q. Adams says it is "welded in to the Constitution," — then what ? Down with both of them as authority, — and up with the everlasting principles of right, — ^which no books can gainsay, and no priests meddle with, without being blasted. Through the cold and dreary pages of this sermon, the wretched author insists over and again, with great earnestness, that the Apostles " connived at slavery." Very well, then, Mr. Hamilton, if your Apostles, instead of being straight-forward, honest men, are full of " connivances," and that, too, with the " sum of all viUanies," — ^then the apostolic succession instead of being matter of boast should be a cause of unqualified shame, — and those who substantiate their claim to it should be ranked with those 12S THE PIONEER. " whose blood Has crept through scoundrels ever since the flood." Frotn such apostles, " good Lord deliver us." I will not stop to ask what need of conniving at slavery if it was right, but merely say, that any such connivance is utterly detestable, and if the coat fits St. Paul, or St. anybody, he should wear it, though it were as uncomfortable as a " cantharidian plaster." Speaking of E-pistles, I wrote one " with mine own hand " to this Mr. Hamilton, when he was in these parts, in reply to one of his in which he com- plained that a man-stealer should be called a thief. Being no philologist, as Hamilton is,, I didn't go into a verbal discussion, but I did tread upon his theological toes, and in the sermon before me he notices the fact as follows : — "So plainly does the Bible contemplate the existence of domestic servitude, ■ — even in the church — rand by its laws provided for its due regulation, and for the correction of abuses likely to spring from it, that a zealous abolitionist lately addressed me thus : — ' Prove to me from the Bible that slavery is to be tolerated, and I mil trample your Bible under my feet, as I mould the vilest serpent en the face of ike earth.' Such language flows not from humanity, but from a ferocious pride ; not from reason, but from madness ; not from piety, but from the very spirit of infidelity." Very well. Dr. Hamilton, if it is inhumanity to defend men from emslavement, against all authority, and to deny the compe- tency of any book, apocryphal or canonical, to justify such enslave- ment; and if it is the dictate of " ferocioiis pride " to trample any book under foot which dares to assume to itself such competency, —then may my ferocity increase with every passing hour, and my inhuman acts multiply till they outnumber the stars in the sky, I know fall well, sir, that you and your clerical colleagues will call this infidelity, and tell me with many a solemn warning that " it will not do to die by." And that is true. Such humane sentiments were not intended to die by ; their " steps " do not " take hold an death." They are given us to live by, — and to live here on this green and beautiful earth. The doctrine which answers to die by, which is just fit to die by, is your doctrine that the GreaJ; Parent of Good looks wiih an approving smile upon the ' THE PIONEER. 199 appalling institution of American slavery. Indeed, that doctrine is moral death itself, — and men are " dying by " it every day. You say, Dr. Hamilton, that your sentiments will " fit us for another world ; '' that may be, — and your arguments on that point I may not answer, for my knowledge is confined exclusively to this world, in whose behalf only I speak. But I will say, if there is " another world " where your itihuman and unearthly senti- ments pass current for virtue or wisdom, — a world whose God is on the side of slavery, — it must be an infernal place, and I for one, have not the least inclination to " prepare " for it, — if I had, I would join the Andover {or some other) Theological Seminary, forthwith, and take orders for the ministry. One word in conclusion. Whoever supposes I think that the Apostle to the Gentiles, or any other Christian teacher, is in favor of slavery, makes a great mistake. I am certain that the princi- ples of the New Testament are utterly irreconcileable with the slightest form of human bondage, — but then I want the reader to understand that if those principles were pro-slavery, they should be despised just as much in the Bible as anywhere else. GIVE ME A GRAVE WHERE THE WILD BLOSSOMS REVEL. BY CAROLINE A. ESIGSS. Give me a grave where the wild blossoms revel, Let me repose 'neath some whispering tree, Close by the home of the robin and sparrow, Near to the haunts of the murmuring bee ; Bury me not where the place is all silent, Saving the sound of the bat on the iving, Or the screech of the owl in his midnight carousal, Haunting the spot like a terrified thing. Let me not lie where the brier and bramble Choke the green grass o'er my place of repose : Give me no grave where the poisonous nightshade Over my ashes its dim shadow throws : 18 130 THE PIONEER. Friends that I loved in the hour of my being, Never would visit my desolate bed, Or, if they came, they would turn away shuddering, Linking dark thoughts with the home of the dead. No, — let me lie by the side of some streamlet, Murm'ring its song in the flow'r-scented air : Seek ye some place where the spot is all joyous, Meet for my spirit, — and bury me there. Oh, I should slumber so peacefully, sweetly, Blossoms to deck me, and music around ! Angels, methinks, would be ever beside me, Making the charnel place heavenly ground ! Friendship would come with its off'ring of roses. Twining a chaplet to lay on my tomb. Love would be there with a smile and a tear-drop. Smiles for my mem'ry, and tears for my doom ; There they would linger the long summer evening, Lik'ning my race to the course of the sun, Glad in its rising and calm in its setting, — Sinking to rest when my journey was done. Over my grave they would talk of the lost one, Fondly recalling each trait that was dear. Tenderly throwing the pall of oblivion Over the faults of th« cherished one near. Then they would pause in the pleasant recital, Marking the loveliness scattered abroad, Turning their thoughts to the lovelier dwelling. Where the departed was resting with God. Then let me lie where the wild blossoms revel, Let me repose 'neath some whispering tree, Close by the home of the robin and sparrow. Near to the haunts of the murmuring bee : Oh, I should slumber so peacefully, sweetly, Blossoms to deck me and music around ! Surely kind angel's would hover beside me. Making the charnel spot heavenly ground. THE PIONEER. 131 WILLIAM RICH. William Rich is one of those men whom the orthodox priest in this town delights to sneer at as " gutter graduates." Early in life he incurred habits which at last plunged him into the dreadful vortex of intemperance, and cost him his love of truth, honesty, and even common decency. He became, through the frightful influence of intoxicating liquors, a poor, miserable, reckless crea- ture, living a life of the utmost degradation and wretchedness. His naturally good talents, and fine disposition, were almost ruined, and he felt himself irrevocably lost. With no self-respect, he soon lost respect for the rights of others, and in his despair was, driven to the commission of acts which at last placed him, through the operation of our retaliatory laws, in the Charlestown State's Prison. After staying there for several years, and deportr ing himself in a manner in the highest degree creditable, and giving hope of much better things when he should be permitted to go loose, — ^he was released, before the expiration of his term, by the active eflbrts of a few noble-hearted Washingtonians, — and again had the " world all before him where to choose." By a too common mistake he concluded, according to the advice of his friends, not to engage in his regular trade, (that of shoemaking) but to go out as a temperance lecturer. The novelty and unhealthy excitement of this wandering life— especially when contrasted with his hard life in prison — was more than his moral system was equal to ; and when the novelty began to wear off, and the excitement to subside, he was visited with that dreadful ennui which in such cases is almost invariably the precursor of a return to evil habits, or which at any rate was such a precursor in this instance. His past life had not given him that stability of charac- ter which could breast the tempestuous tide of life, and he fell. Soon after, he reformed once more, — ^but only to fall again and again, until " repeated penitence had wearied his soul," and he was hurried back by the receding tide into further violations of 132 THE PIONEER. civil law, and the prison again stared him in the faqe. To many of our readers these circumstances are familiar. In a state of intemperance he broke into the store of Christopher Robinson, who, from the beginning, had been one of his most constant and efficient friends. The community was much excited about it, and pronounced William to be an incorrigible and hope- 'less.ingrate; They would not listen to any further plans for his benefit, but set him down as fit only for the life of a convict. Not so thought Mr. Robinson. He was fully satisfied that William had in him, among the decaying embers of his soul, a spark which might yet be kindled into a flame by the warm breath of brotherly affection. Arid he acted accordingly, against the almost unani- mous opinion of his neighbors and the public. They hooted at the idea that Christian principle was applicable to so extreme a case, and contended that nothing was applicable to it but the heathen law of retaliation. Mr. Robinson replied that if Christian principles were not applicable to extreme cases, they were not applicable to any cases, and were not worth professing. In his opinion the peculiarity of Christian principles was that they were equal to every emergency. Meanwhile the civil law had got its iron grasp on to William, and he was taken off to jail to await his trial. The time of trial hurried along, and he was brought before the bar to answer to a State's Prison offence. He plead " guilty." Mr. Robinson then interceded (by attorney) in his behalf, and endeavored to procure for him as lenient a sentence as the case admitted of. The result was that the court offered to let William off on $300 bail for ninety days, with the understanding that if at the expiration of that time he had deported himself well, it would materially affect the final decision of his case. Mr. Robinson and several others promptly consented to be bound for William, and he was set free.. For this benevolent act the bondsmen were much ridiculed, and it was very shrewdly and cunningly said that they would have to, pay down the $300, while William would head for Texas. Not so thought they. They were as sure of his appearance at court THE PIONEER. 133 at the appointed time as they could be of any thing in the future. As soon as he was released from confinement, friend Rich went out to the Hopedale Community, — the delightful home founded by Adin Ballou and others, — where he was welcomed as " a man and a brother," and treated with that kindness which his situation was so well adapted to call forth. At the expiration of the ninety days he made his appearance promptly at the court, and, through the intercession of his bondsmen, was set at liberty for ninety days more, — the amount of the bonds being diminished one half. He returned to Hopedale, conducted himself as well as before, and when the court convened, made his appearance again, — and, with the amount of the bonds lessened still more, was released again. Shortly after this, the whole matter was settled, (legally, of course,) by the District Attorney, Mr. Hunt- ington, who, it is proper to say, from beginning tp end, behaved in the most creditable manner. And now, to bring the matter to a close, the reader is requested to notice the fact that by the faithful application of Christian prin- ciples, our friend William Rich has been rescued from the jaws of a dismal prison, reclaimed from a life of intemperance and crime, and restored to society, a virtuous, industrious, and happy citizen. He has just taken to himself, for a wife, one of the most respectable and worthy women in Hopedale, and he is esteemed by all who know him as deserving of her esteem and love. This is certainly one of those cases which might well strengthen our faith in the law of love and truth, and diminish it in the law of retaliation. Had Mr. Robinson listened to the advice, or been affected by the sneers of those who call themselves Christians, William Rich, instead of being the happy and useful man he now is, — would be a convict in the Charlestown State's Prison. It should be borne in mind, moreover, that for this act of dis- interested humanity, and for similar acts in other departments of reform, Mr. R. is called an infidel. The JVcw England Puritan, (and other religious papers,) at the time the above interesting facts were transpiring, sneered at him as a come-outer and non- 134 THE PIONEEE, resistant, — and almost rejoiced that his store had been broken into. But let this go. One fact is worth a million theories, — and here is a fact, of the most instructive character, which goes further to prove the truth of Christianity, and the falsehood of the popular religion,' than all the books which ever were written. MAN. BV GEOEaE HERBERT, — BORN 1593. My God, I heard this day, That none doth build a stately habitation, But he that means to dwell therein. What house more stately hath there been. Or can be, than is Man, to whose creation. All things are in decay ? For Man is everything And more. He is a tree, yet bears no fruit ; A beast, yet is, or should be, more. Reason and speech we only bring. Parrots may thank us, if they are not mute ; They go upon the score. Man is all symmetry, Full of proportions, one limb to another, And all to all the world besides. Each part may call the farthest brother : For head with foot hath private amity ; And both, with moons and tides. Nothing hatli got so far. But Man hath caught and kept it, as his prey. His eyes dismount the highest star ; He is, in little, all the sphere. Herbs gladly cure our flesh, because that they Find their acquaintance there. For us the winds do blow, The earth doth rest, heaven move, and fountains flow. Nothing we see but means our good ; THE PIONEER. 135 As our delight, or as our treasure. The whole is either our cupboard of food, Or cabinet of pleasure. The stars have us to bed : Night draws the curtain; which the sun withdraws. Music and light attend our head. All things unto our flesh are kind, In their descent and being ; to our mind, In their ascent and cause. Each thing is full of duty : Waters united are our navigation ; Distinguished, our habitation ; Below, oar drink ; above, our meat : Both are oar cleanliness. Hath one such beauty ? Then how are aU things neat ! More servants wait on Man, Than he'll take notice of. In every path He treads down that which doth befriend him When sickness makes him pale and wan. Oh, mighty love ! Man is one world, and hath Another to attend him. Since then, my God, thou hast So brave a palace built, oh, dwell in it, That it may dwell with thee at last ! Till then, afford us so much wit. That, as the world serves us, we may serve thee ; And both thy servants be. 136 THE PIONEER. THE HUTCHINSON FAMILY. The Hutchinson music transcends, in my view, any ordinary speech, as much as the light of the sun transcends the light of the stars. No man can listen to it without being filled with a love of the true and the beautiful. It enchants one like the sing- ing of birds. It charms his angry passions to sleep, and wakes all his finest feelings to harmonious action. It raises the grovel- ling and low-bred soul to communion with high and holy thoughts, and brings back the soul which has soared above the realities of life into untravelled and uninhabited regions, back to a noble appreciation of the pure enjoyments of life. In one word, the influence of this music is humanizing. It is a grand offset to the stiff and stupid teachings of the popular religion, which de-hu- manizes and depraves. It strikes a death-blow to misanthropy, and explodes the idea of " total depravity " into utter nothingness. The " established worship " of the nation stands rebuked and abashed in its presence, — while true reform is fired with new enthusiasm by every note which it. utters. Hence the people love it, while the priests and the politicians hate it — that is, hate it as priests and politicians, — but as men even t?iey love it. It has identified itself, naturally and unavoidably, with the greatest reform movements of the age. The slave in his chains, the drunkard in his cups, the prisoner in his cell, the orphan in his asylum, the priest in his pulpit, all have cause to remember it with the deepest gratitude ; — for it has turned the public ear to their miserable situation, and done much to alleviate its horrors. It has never turned a deaf ear to the " low ground cry of human- ity," but has rather " inclined its head to catch it." Attempts have been made to enlist its magic powers — say rather its simple and natural and therefore boundless energies — in behalf of sect and party, but in every instance with the most signal and morti- fying failure. Political and religious prints have endeavored to turn the public ear, and enlist the public hand against them,— THE PIONEEE. 137 but with, the same ruinous result to the poor malcontents, who have now pretty much given up the business. Oh, it is indeed a hopeful fact, a true sign of progress, that such music may still be heard, and revereijlly listened to, above the din of the world's noisy and quarrelsome arena, — that no amount of clatter can silence it, and no amount of superstition neutralize its influence. Give me suck songs, and you may enact any laws you please, I will yet keep the core of the public heart sound and sweet. TALKING MACHINES. The papers are making considerable ado about a famous ■" Talking Machine " now on exhibition in New York, which, it is reported, can be made to say just what its proprietor or mana- ger desires, vrithout making the least mistake. ^ But surely such machines are no great curiosity. There are scores of them in every part of the country. We have half a score here in Lynn. They are not made of wood to be sure — except in the attic region — and they are not considered out of the common course of things ; — but in other respects they are like the New York machine to a hair. They have, in some stages of their existence, been so popular as to be almost deified ; and even now are ordained, consecrated, and set apart, and have certain monkish duties to perform in the temple. As a general rule they •don't discourse very pleasant sounds, — ^but that is the fault of the public. Many of them, especially in this region, are a little out of order just now ; but it is thought that by and by, after a little tinkering and greasing, they will perform better. — They are expensives machines, and are supported mainly by the poor, who, according to an old tradition, imagine them made out of a superior kind of clay. This class of people (the poor) feel it their duty to keep them a-going, having a sort of superstitious fear, inherited from their grandmothers, that if they fail to contribute liberally to this end, they will be subjected, in a future world, to endless and inconceivable torments. 19 138 THE PIONEER. These machines are oiled with the sweat of the laborer, and the tears of the bereaved, and, in some instances, are worshipped in lieu of God. They have a very peculiar voice, (like the New York article) which is a rude imitation of the human. It is a sort of whinish drawl, compounded apparently of sighs and groans, and has been mistaken by those whose ears are more remarkable for length than acuteness, for the natural voice of man. — In order to play upon the religious sentiment of the community more effectually, the proprietors of these machines pretend that their voice is rather divine than human, in which way they account for the peculiar drawl alluded to. This singular invention is made somewhat after the shape of a man. There is, however, in general, a great fault about the eyes, which have a strange and unnatural roll, especially when lifted up. The effect of this, however, is said to be good, inasmuch as the peculiar expression of the white of the eye, well managed, is considered as having a tendency to produce solemnity and awe. One other criticism on the thing is that its face is rather long for an average pattern of the human face, and its general expres- sion a sort of blending of a forced smile and studied solemnity — similar to that which appears on the face of a circus clown when in a state of mock repose. One other peculiarity of this vocal phenomenon is its uniform. This consists of a black suit from head to foot, with the exception of the neck, which is generally bandaged round pretty closely with a white linen cloth, — the effect of which is to give a ghastly aspect to the features, and heighten the solemn effect of the whole machine. If any one doubts the accuracy of the above description, let him go into some of the heathen temples next Sunday where they are regularly exhibited. He will be admitted gratis, and if he ven- tures to express any disapprobation of the mechanical perform- ances, will be ejected on the same terms. He mus n't be shocked if these machines talk about God, and Christ, and Humanity ; THE PIONEER. 139 for they are generally set to that tune. It is to be lamented that when they are wound up their owners do not set them to some- thing different ; but that is considered a matter of taste which is regulated according to the demands of their patrons. When the people call for a new tune — no matter what it is — they can have it ; for the machine is as accommodating in that respect as a hand- organ. THE LOVEB OF NATURE. FROM "WOOD-NOTES," BY R. W. EMERSON. 'Twas one of the charmed days, When the genins of God doth flow. The wind may alter twenty ways, A tempest cannot blow : It may blow north, it still is warm ; Or south, it still is clear ; Or east, it smells like a clover farm ; Or west, no thunder fear. The musing peasant, lowly great, Beside the forest water sat : The rope-like pine roots crosswise grown Composed the network of his throne. The wide lake edged with sand and grass Was burnished to a floor of glass, Painted with shadows green and proud, Of the tree and of the cloud. He was the heart of all the scene ; On him the sun looked more serene, To hill and cloud his face was known. It seemed the likeness of their own ; They knew by secret sympathy The public child of earth and sky. You ask, he said, what guide Me through trackless thickets led : Through thick-stemmed woodlands rough and wide, I found the water's bed. The watercourses were my guide, 140 THE PIONEER. I tr?tvelled grateful by their side, Or through, their channel dry ; They led me through the thicket damp, Through brake and fern the beavers' camp, Through beds of granite cut my road, And their resistless friendship showed ; The falling waters led me. The foodful water fed me, And brought me to the lowest land, Unerring to the ocean sand. The moss upon the forest bark Was polestar when the night was dark ; The purple berries in the wood Supplied me necessary food ; For nature ever faithful is To such as trust her faithfulness. When the forest shall mislead me, When the night and morning lie, When sea and land refuse to feed me, 'T will be time enough to die ; Then will yet my mother yield A pillow in her greenest field, Nor the June flowers scorn to cover The clay of their departed lover. SUNDAY, JUNE 16, 1844. This has been a great day. The chill which has sharpened the air for the last few days was exchanged early this morning for a soft and balmy breath fresh from the chambers of the South, — and all the day long the weather has been perfectly delicious. As a consequence the streets have been alive with happy people every hour — and up to this time (10 P. M.) you can hear the sound of merry voices from High Rock to the Sea. Nature never presented a more smiling face, never spoke in sweeter tones, never exhaled a sweeter l)reath, never took captive more hearts, thah she has to-day. She has made lovers of us all. At morn- ing and evening twilight the more thoughtful of her admirers THE PIONEER. 141 hastened to the beach to listen to the sublime chant of the sea, and during the heat of the day sought the cool retreat of the woods, to recline upon the soft grass and hear the sweet music of the birds. It has been a day well calculated to inspire the soul with lofty thoughts and tinge with the roseate hues of hope, all our anticipations of life. Whatever clouds may have gathered over our mind, to-day they have been gilded with light, or have spread their black wings and fled. The sad face of outraged humanity has lightened up with a gleam of gladness, — the hearts of her despised advocates have grown warm and trustful, — and even her enemies have been glad to unloose the knotted hand for once and give her the warm grasp of fellowship. Many a spirit which has been bending beneath a weight of care and sorrow for years, on such a day as this, as it inhales the fragrant incense of the flowers, and basks in the bright anile of Nature, lifts itself up into new life, and becomes conscious of sources of happiness and peace never before revealed. I like such days because they con- trast so beautifully with the frowning spirit of a sdlf-seeking world. AU around me I see my brethren closing their eyes against all that is noble and true,' and plunging madly into the boiling mael- stroom of ungodly pursuits, — ^heedless of the cries of sufiering humanity and utterly mindless of their ovra good — >and I become tristful, and discouraged ; but then the sweet smile of such a season as this shines in upon me and causes so many bright thoughts to bud forth into life, that I receive all at once a new income of strength, and all within me and around me seems pro- phetic of good. This morning, after baptising myself with the pure air and water of heaven, and becoming quite inspirited by the countless angel ministrations which at such times wait upon every lover of Nature, — ^I was over^rged to breathe the dank atmosphere of a church. I did. And as I passed the threshold I felt as when passing from one of the charming arbors in Mount Auburn into a whited sepulchre. All was changed. The sweetness of the air, the sense of freedom, all elevation of thought, were gone in an 142 THE PIONEER. instant, and a cold chill as of death crept all over me. I remem- bered instantly that I was in a building whose portals were closed irrevocably against Humanity, — and that the shrieks of the poor drunkard and his hapless family, and the piteous moan of the heart-broken slave, had no power to reach its iron heart. Presently the priest of the place rose in pomp and pride and dared high Heaven by the awful blasphemy of a prayer, whose profane invo- cations fell upon my heart like the ribald jests of S forsaken woman. Then came the dolorous singing, then a formal and heartless reading of scripture, then another heart-chilling prayer, then other singing, — and finally, a most bitter and unmanly tyrade against the Spartan band who are perilling life and limb, and resigning cheerfully all worldly honor and reputation, — ^in behalf of the poor outcast. Not openly and manfully, after the fashion of honest men, but cunningly and disguisedly after the fashion of crafty priests, — the preacher went on (under the cover of a histor- ical discourse in which he professed to state the impediments to the great Lutheran Reformation) — stabbing the Anti-Slavery men and the Washingtonians in the back, and gloating with most rav- enous joy over every misstatement calculated to mislead his people. When he had finished I desired to stand up before my brethren and sisters and call their attention to the awful spectacle which they had just witnessed, — of a pampered priest pouring forth his wrath against the noblest benefactors of the human race and invoking upon them the curse of God. I wanted to point them to the Channings, the FoUens, the Wares, the Garrisons, the Mays, the Rogers's, the Phillips's, the Childs, the Ghapmans, the Motts, the Pierponts, the Goves, the Lovejoys, the Fosters, the Grimkes, the Kelleys, the Lorings, the Douglasses, the Mitchells, the Remonds, the Goughs, the Johnsons, the Potters, the Aliens,— and a host of others who have sent the smile of joy into a thou- sand dark abodes, and who have a name in the choicest memories of the forlorn and the dov?n-trodden : — I wanted, I say, to point my brethren and sisters to those noble characters, and then ask, THE PIONEER. 143 on ike spot, that they might be compared in point of usefulness and moral worth with the selfish mortal who had just been holding them up to scorn. I knew enough of human nature, I had faith enough in the intrinsic rectitude of the people before me, to know that they would admit that their priest was not worthy to unloose the shoe-latchet of one of the noble characters I have enumerated. But why didn't I rise and ask this question ? — Because my limbs, nay my life would probably have had to answer for my presumption ; — ^for these " lambs of God," these " meek disciples of Christ,'' feel it to be their duty to visit the most beastly personal violence on every such person. - When I left the " whited sepulchre " and had passed from its pestiferous atmosphere into the pure air of heaven, 1 felt that I had indeed left a charnel house full of dead men's bones and all manner of uncleanness. I could not refrain from saying, " this is indeed a house of infamy, a gate to hell." I felt more indignant than towards a Groggery, because a Groggery don't pretend to be holy, and this church does. The bar-keeper as he retails his draught of death denies not that the deed is foul ; but this priest as he stands behind his counter to deal out the most deadly of spiritual poisons, pretends — oh terrific blasphemy ! — to be the ser- vant of the Most High ! The poor victim of man's licentiousness, — which licentiousness is seldom rebuked in the church — as she goes forth on her dread- ful errand of prostitution, and lays her cunning snare for the feet of youth, — makes no pretence to goodness, and has no social influence. Her position needs not to be defined. The people understand it. And when I say " her feet go down to death ; her steps take hold on hell," — they respond amen. But the time- serving Priest who is tenfold more to be dreaded than she, I can- not reach because he is entrenched behind a time-honored Insti- tution, and has imposed upon the people by his prayers and his professions. For this reason it is that his order is so much more dangerous than any other in the world, — and for this reason it is that the church, which is his castle, is altogether the most to be shunned of any institution which defiles God's beautiful earth. 144 THE PIONEER. I am always shocked at the idea of tampering with the spiritual nature of man. It is too holy to be trifled with. It is this which makes him but a "little lower than the angels." It is this, implanted in the centre of every human soul, which foreshadows his immortal destiny, and when allowed her rightful supremacy over the soul, prefigures the infinite peace and happiness of the new heavens and the new earth. In the ultimate reign of the spiritual nature I believe — and the time is hastening apace when the miserable institutions which profess to minister to this nature but which in fact trample it under foot with Juggernaut ruthless- ness, — will be supplanted by some simple and beautiful rites in keeping with the high destiny of the soul. I long for such a time. I am sick of the dead formalities, the stereotype sermons, the low aims, the sectarian jealousies, the self-righteous priestp hood, — which are palmed off on the community as fit emblems of that greatest of love-spirits, Jesus of Nazareth. How would he spurn the empty ceremonials of his pretended disciples of the present day ! How he would look upon these Reverends, these Bishops, these Divines, these D. D's .' Think of calling him Jesus Chkist, D. D., Bishop Christ, Eeveeend Jesus Cheist. How it palls upon the ear ? Why then don't it pall upon the ear when we apply these worldly epithets to those who pretend to be his disciples ! Because we have been cajoled out of our wits by church trickery. If we had any of the simplicity of Christ, if we possessed a jot of his spirit, we would see through this love of authority and show which his professed followers manifest, and repudiate it all as arrant imposture. I have always reverenced the pure character of Jesus Christ, and I believe the same spirit which was in him — a spirit of forti- tude and self-denial, a spirit far above all priesthood, a spirit whose delight it was to mingle with the poor and the despised (instead of aspiring to be the first among men, after the manner of our clergy) a spirit which was as far above all mercenary thoughts as the heavens are above the earth,— I believe this spirit is destined to renovate the earth. THE PIONEER. 145 How his noble soul spurned all those trappings of earthly dis- tinction which our ministers so much covet ! How he rebuked the church and clergy of his day — and how they rebuked him for violating their Sabbaths, and not going to their meetings, and for daring to advocate moral truth, instead of their creed, in the synagogue ! And how aptly their successors at the present day imitate the cursed example ! Jesus was a reformer. He attacked the " peculiar institutions " of his day. Instead of making long prayers, and wearing broad phylacteries, and associating with the " first people," and preaching their creeds, and keeping their Sabbaths — he mixed in with the common people, and told the cler- ical parasites of his day that the publicans and the harlots should go into heaven before them. And the consequence was that they persecuted him just as the church and clergy have persecuted all reformers ever since, and finally nailed him to the gallows — the gaUows being then, as now, a great favorite with the church. Now if any man cannot perceive the same spirit which blackened the hearts of the crucifiers of Jesus, in the divines — as they impi- ously call themselves — of the present day, then he must be mow compos. Such were my reflections as I left the Orthodox Synagogue this morning. I went from thence to Dr. Kittredge's charming cot- tage, and was glad to get so far from the sink of pollution where I had spent the forenoon. How changed the scene ! All around me was loveliness and beauty ! Instead of the impotent babbling of man, I heard the deep music of old ocean singing of infinite power, and the sweet song of the birds telling of <%»finite love.— Instead of the sepulchral faces of a bigoted congregation, I saw before me smiling fields . peopled with a sisterhood of happy flowers, each yielding up her sweet incense of love to the wooing air. In place of that sickly atmosphere which seems to have an intuitive love for churches, and which is nearly as choking as the dry dust of modern orthodoxy, I inhaled the delicious aroma of green pastures, and the invigorating breath of the sea ! Amid such influences, dead indeed must be the soul which 20 146 THE PIONEEE. does not join in the worship of Nature and breathe forth a tribute of gratitude. " Prayer," says a beautiful writer, " Is the soul's sincere desire, Unaltered or expressed, The motion of the hidden fire, Which glows within the breast." And if this be prayer, — then is that longing after the purity and simplicity of Nature which springs instinctively to every heart which can appreciate her beauties, true and acceptable prayer. On such an evening as this, every voice you hear, from the thrilling accents of the smallest bird to the rich cadences of old Ocean himself, call upon the soul to unite in their harmony of harmonies, in praise to the great Creator. And how happy he who is so in unison with Nature as to join with a full soul in her choral-hymn, or unite in secret sympathy with the melody of the flowers as they breath forth their silent thanksgiving ! " Compared with this, how poor Eeligion's pride. In all the pomp of method and of art, When men display to congregations wide Devotion's every grace except the heart !" JEANIE MORRISON. EY WILLIAM MOTHERWELL. I've wandered east, I've wandered west, Through mony a weary way ; But never, never can forget llie luve o' life's young day ! Xfie fire that's blawn on Beltane e'en, May weel be black gin Yule ; But blacker fa' awaits the heart Where first fond luve grows cule. dear, dear Jeanie Morrison, The thochts o' bygane years Still fling their shadows ower my path. And blind my een, wi' tears. They Wind my een, wi' saut, saut tears. THE PIONEER. 147 And sair and sick I pine, As memorjr idly summons up The blithe blinks o' langsyne. 'T was then we luvit ilk ither weel, 'T was then we twa did part ; Sweet time, sad time ! twa bairns at scule, Twa bairns, and but ae heart ! 'T was then we sat on ae laigh bink, To leir ilk ither lear : And tones, and looks, and smiles were shed, Bemembered evermair. I wonder, Jeanie, aften yet, When sitting on that bink. Cheek touchin' cheek, loof locked in loof. What our wee heads could think ? When baith bent down ower ae braid page, Wi' ae bnik on our kiiee, Thy lips were on thy lesson, but My lesson was in thee. 0, mind ye how we hiihg our heads. How cheeks brent red wi' shanle. Whene'er the scule-weans laughin' said, We cleek'd thegitber hame ? And mind ye o' the Saturdays, (The senle then stail't at noon), When we ran aff to speel the braes — The broomy braes 6' June ? My head rins round and found about, * My heart flows like a sea, As ane by ane the thochts rush back O' scule-time and o' tliee. 0, mornin' life ! 0, mornin' luve ! O lichtsome days and lang. When hinnied hopes arotmd our hearts Like simmer blossoms sprang ! 0, mind ye, luve, how aft we left The deavin' dinsome toun, 148 THE PIONEER. To wander by the green bamside, And hear its waters croon ? The simmer leaves hung ower our heads, The flowers burst round our feet, And in the gloamin o' the wood, The throssil whusslit sweet ; The throssil whusslit in the wood, The burn sang to the trees. And we with Nature's heart in tune, Concerted harmonies ; And on the knows abune the bum. For hours thegither sat In the silentness o' joy, till baith Wi' very gladness grat. Ay, ay, dear Jeanie Morrison, Tears trinkled doun your cheek, Like dew-beads on a rose, yet nane Had ony power to speak ! That was a time, a blessed time. When hearts were fresh and young, When freely gashed all feelings forth, TJHsyllabled, — unsung ! I marvel, Jeanie Morrison, Gin I hae been to thee As closely twined wi' earliest thochts, As ye hae been to me ? ! tell me gin their music fiUs Thine ear as it does mine ; OJ say gin e'er your heart grows grit Wi' dreamings o' langsyne ? I've wandered east, I've wandered west, I've bom a weary lot ; But in my wanderings, far or near, Ye never were forgot. The fount that first burst frae this heart. Still travels on its way ; And channels deeper as it rins, The luve o' life's young day. THE PIONEER. 149 O dear, dear Jeanie Morrison, Since we were sindered young, I've never seen your face, nor heard The music o' your tongue ; But I could hug all wretchedness. And happy could I die, Did I but ken your heart still dreamed 0' bygane days and me ! THE BRIGHT SIDE. I am naturally disposed to look at the bright side of life — for life even in its darkest estate has its bright side — and it weighs upon me like an incubus, that it has become my duty to dwell chiefly upon that part of the picture which is the most loathsome and repulsive. The truth is, there is yet much good in this shadowy world. There is in the depths of every human heart an undercurrent of good feeling and noble sentiment pure as the dews of heaven. It is this thought which gilds our darkest moments with light, and in times of gloom and despondency scatters the impending clouds, and opens upon the delighted vision all the starry brilliancy of Heaven. We know, also, that the human soul for the most part is wrapt in mists of doubt and sin, through which the inner light struggles hard to reveal and difiuse itself; but now and then the light will break through, and mingling with the cold exhalations of sin, span the mind with the rainbow of hope and joy. He must be a misanthrope, indeed, who sees in the human heart nothing but thick darkness. Pitied above all others should he be, whose spiritual eye is not keen enough to discern beneath all the dross of earth, some grain at least of pure gold to redeem his race from utter depravity and loss. Seen or unseen, there it is, gleaming in solitary beauty, and waiting to reward the patient and toiling hand which shall at last bring it to the light. Bury it up, you may, with all manner of evil trash ; bury it up the world seems determined to, with sensuality and sin, but there it will be 150 THE PIONEER. — that golden " talent," — ^unsought and unheeded, pferhaps, but still real and genuine, with the signet of heaven stamped upon it, — and you shall sooner blot the sun from the heaven, or dethrone Deity himself, than annihilate it in any soul. Let us all delve, then, till we find it. Find it first, we may and must, in our own souls, and having found it there, we shall have a faith which no sin can weaken and no disappointment destroy, that by earnest and living labor we shall at last discover it in the veins of every human heart. Take courage, then, brothers and sisters, and let faith in your own souls, faith in Humanity, faith iii God, be inscribed in letters of light upon the tablet of your hearts. ABOU BEN ADHEM. BY LEian BvnuT. Abou Ben Adhem (taay his tribe increase !) Awokey one nighty from a deep dream of pe£ice, And saw within the moonlight in his room, Making it rich and like a lily in bloom, An Angel writing in a book Of gold ; — And to the presetce in the! room he said : ^^ " What writest thou J" The; Vision raised its head, And, with a look niade of all sweet alccord, Answer'd : — " The names of those who love the Lord."- '' And is mine one " ? said Abou. " Nay, not so," Replied the Angel. Aboii spoke more low. But cheerly still, and said : — " I pray thee then, Wiite' me as one that loveS his fellow men." The Angel wrote and vanished. Thei next night It came again with a great wakenihg light, And show'd the names whom love of God had blessed, And lo i Ben Adhem's name led aU the rest ! THE PIONEER. 151 LETTER FROM N. P. ROGERS. It is possible that I may have been moved to reprint the follow- ing characteristic letter from my friend N. P. Rogers, by the strong personal friendship which exists, between us, — but I think not. The letter itself is ftjl of interest. The leading idea which runs through it, like a, vein of fine gold, is very precious, and I wish the reform community, especially, were in a mood to appre- ciate its value. That idea is (if I apprehend it rightly) that all reform meetings and movements are effectual for good^ in propor- tion as they are fr^e from the trappings and trammels of artificial society, or in other words, in proportion as they approach the simplicity and artlessijess of a confiding social intercourse. This is the amount of that terrible " no-organization " which is the greatest bjigJbear. e.xtant,, unless it be non-resistance, which is pretty nearly the, same thing. Np-organization, thus, described, ^is. the height of moral excel- lence and powe?, and . is at war with nothing but bigotry, super- stition, tyranny, and crime. In its service, there, is no.quarelling for power, and no power for quarelling. -Its. meetings- are as simple and free as the spontaneous^gatherings of the family circle —or the groups of men and women which gabber, together, at the comers of the streets, and in the market places, to discuss the current topic? of the day. The only " order '" it recognizes, is the order of Nature, whieh it holds can never be violated with impunity. All order -which is based on fear, and enforced by the tyrannical authority of great names or numbers, it holds to be unworthy and degrading — even more so than absolute anarchy. It shuns all the machinery and- chicane of political oiganizations^i with the pure and truthful instinct of . childhood. It has no organs ; nor tools, and is encumbered by no constitution nor by-laws. It knows no " moderator " but truth, no " manual " but love. Thisj is no-organization. It is not above rule. It does, not spurn law. - Rather would it say with the pious Herbert, 152 THE PIONEER. " Slight those who say amidst their sickly healths, Thou livs't by rule. What doth not so but men ? Houses are built by rule — and commonwealths ; Entice the trusty Sun, if that yon can, From his ecliptic line ; beckon the sky ; Who lives by rule, then, keeps good company. " But it is one thing to be governed by those rules or laws which were framed by the great Architect of the universe — and quite another to be governed by those laws which are framed by feeble men, and which in most cases are grossly subversive of the laws of Nature. I know of no more strenuous advocates of "law and order " than that class of persons called " no-organizationists." It is because they love law and hate anarchy, that they resist the unreasonable edicts of self-constituted authority, and deny infalli- bility to that God of organization, the popular voice. They see nothing of the beauty of order in a gathering of men and women, each of whom is bitted, and bridled, and kept in check, by an officious chairman. But they do see the beauty of order, in its highest development, where the same people, attracted together by a common thought, exhibit that true "peace," whose only " bond " is " unity of spirit." This is the poetry of order. It is not a dull, stupid, monoto- nous uniformity ; but that unity in variety, and variety in unity, which is conveyed in the idea that " All Nature's difference makes all Nature's peace." It is not the order of a " well disciplined militia," or an awe-struck church, or a " moderated " town meeting, — but the order of an affectionate family circle, or the casual meeting of kindred spirits, Those who have no higher idea of order than uniformity, who desire to " train " their fellow men and women, and " march " them to the tune of their noisy drums and fifes, are, in reality, ignorant of the first principles of order. If uniformity is order, then is there no order in the illimitable realm of Nature ; for she abhors sameness, as the Philosophers say she "abhors a vacuum." No two flowers exhibit the same proportions, or yield the same THE PIONEER. 153 perfume. No two trees put forth the same number of branches or of blossoms, or bear fruit of the same flavor. In all the animal kingdom no two living things are perfectly alike — and in the heavens we are told that " one star differeth from another star in glory." Of the millions of men that dwell upon the face of the earth, and tjie millions more who sleep upon its bosom, not one was ever made in the exact similitude of another, — either in the form of his body or the features of his mind. And yet the order of Nature is so perfect that a grain of sand disturbed from its true position, would unsphere the Universe ! But here I am branching off in to an essay, when my sole purpose was to say a brief word by way of introduction to friend Rogers's beautiful Letter. How finely, with a few magic touches of his pen, he has outlined that little hearth-stone gathering in Somersworth, so that the least imaginative of us all, can " fill it up " to a perfect vrai-semblance of the original ! And how deeply we are made to feel that, after all, these homely little meetings are the hope of poor over-tasked and over-governed Humanity ! Not that the large conventional meetings do not do a good work — though it may be well to say that all their good is in spile of their size and conventionalities, rather than by reason of them — but these small meetings, which are not deemed of sufficient im- portance to be organized, do a vastly better, and greater. I have now in my mind many of these little, social, accidental gatherings, — these happenings-in — where more good ground was ploughed up, and more good seed sown, in one fly-away evening, than could be done in a week at an ordinary convention. - These meetings have all the freedom of the family board, or nearly so, and draw into their charmed circle many who would as soon walk into a lion's den as into one of our armed and equipped public meetings, but who " drop in " to these gatherings in obe- dience to their social instincts, and seldom leave them without being wiser and happier. It will be seen, then, that we no-organ- izationists are not so crazy as is sometimes and somewheres represented. We do not as is slanderously, or ignorantly, as- 21 154 THE PIONEER. serted of us, disbelieve in association. On the contrary, it is a cardinal article in our faith, that "The heart's aflfections, like earth's brilliant streams, Must flow in channels, radiate in beams, If once self-centred to their source they turn, — Like pools they stagnate, or like meteors barn." But we would let these affections, as they gush like life-blood from the heart, flow into their natural channels, and not by all manner of ingenious and unnatural contrivances (as is the fashion of the world) turn them off into channels which are purely arti- ficial. But to the letter : — Coscofti), (N. H.) FEBBtfARV 6th, 1845. Henky CtAPS, Je : — Will you allow me space in your columns, for slight mention of an anti-slavery meeting, that occurred at Somersworth, N.H., and which I had the good fortune to attend on my return homeward from my late visit at Lynn ? We were to return, you remember, by way of the eastern part of the State, — Durham, in the neightorhood of Dover, — where we had anti- slavery relatives. The abolitionists of Dover and Somersworth, gave us a sympathetic greeting, of which I cannot refrain to speak. When I speak of the abolitionists of Dover and Somersworth, I speak of those who never have occasion to speak of themselves, or for themselves. They are the unambi- tious, unostentatious friends of humanity, and of that freedom which makes humanity /«e — who will look alter the cause, and the cause wiUlook after them. Individuals — every one of them, that in the last sifting, will all fall among the wheat. That is if any body will. In these times of strangeness, who can be spoken of as sure to endure ? Well, let us speak of what is past. That, at least, is sure. Whether the great hearts of Dover and Somersworth will reorganise next, or I shall — like some of our most vehement coadjutors, who are now trailing in the proud train of corporation, — I will not conjecture. The anti-slavery meeting— it was of that class they call Pic Nie, in the genteeler ranks of anti -slavery, and in polite pro-slavery life. I dislike the term, and always did. I don't wish to borrow any of the terms of heartless gentility to apply to movements where all is heart. Some sixty or seventy of the abiding spirits, who love " Free Meeting " and the Spontaneous Press, spontaneously came together, at the house of T. B. and Mary Moses, at Somersworth. The occasion was to honor the position and principle of the old Herald of Freedom,— and in reproof of the tyrant-spirit of Boardship THE PIONEER. 155 which had treacheroudy undermined the life of that paper, and reduced it to the alternative of surrendering, or faithfully going down, — which latter it did. There was no premeditation or preparation about the gallant little meet- ing. — The attraction of moral gravitatian— or, more like, the affinities of anti-slavery chymistry, — gathered the beautiful company together. One high, anti-slavery heart seemed to animate and actuate the entire assembly, — in- telligent, united, truthful, free. I have never, in any anti-slavery assemblage whatever, felt myself so totally at home. Every one was at home. Every eye bespoke that delightful exemption from embarrassment, which is so rare where a meeting transcends in number the fireside circle,^ — and which is the charm of social Ufe. The hospitable rooms, — not hospitable, lor no guests or strangers were there, — the loving rooms were beautifully crowded, so that there was hardly room to sit. The evening disappeared like a vision. At the end of it appeared a tasteful, elegant, ur^ovidei board of entertain- ment — not a Board of Management, — but of elegant, plenteous, inviting «»4ert»w!»ie»«i,— such as comes pleasantly in, after a "feast" of anti-sls\,very « reason, and flow of soul," It was not got up by Committees of Arrange- ment, — ^it came up, as if it grew there, I will not lavish words upon it, — but it was an unexceptionable, modest, chartoing termination of one of the most charming social meetings I ever was in. Beautiful for what was present, and more beautiful from what was absent, — the absence of everything that mars and curses formal human associations. There was one occurrence that began to remind us of the ordinary, formality gatherings — there was talk of having speeches, — but speeches couldn't be had. The anti-slavery tone was too high for it. Heart and soul so pervaded the assembly that speech couldn't have place. James Morrison, and factory boy David Folsom, who so dishonored the brilliant corporate occasion here which consummated the death of the Herald of Freedom, these unlettered and undiploma'd friends, spoke some words of humanity, in the hearing of the little company — but they made no speeches. And had I been a speech-maker, as eloquent as Phillips or Burleigh, and had the health of Hercules, I couldn't have pro- faned that sacred heart-meeting, with a display of periods. Veteran William Smith, who has forty great thoughts to one grammatical word, — who is as formidable to the foes of free speech, and the sticklers for corporation, as he used to be to the French, when he followed Wellington in the wars of the Peninsulas, — who in his age has surmounted all the inveterate habits of the camp, and become a lamb in spirit, instead of the tiger soldier, — he was among our moral suasion hearts there, and gave vent to his chastened old English spirit, in one of the best of old England's old-fashioned songs. And we had other spontaneous singing, — from the hearts of devoted women, who' needed neither the voice nor the genius of the Hutchinsons, to give effect to- 156 THE PIONEER. their whole-souled song. But I am running too much to words. It was but a little occasion, — one of anti-slavery's outcast occasions, yet the greatest I have seen. Sublime in its fewness and simplicity. Such as Numbers, and Pomp, and Pretension, under whatever name, never can show — a sample of this world, when it shall become as it should be, — when slavery will be unknown in it, and all those hateful artificialities that produce slavery, and which are worse than inefficient, when used for its overthrow. Such was the little anti-slavery feast at Somersworth, held in memory of the suppressed Herald of Freedom, and in assertion of its principles which cannot be sup- pressed. The dear friends will be surprised that I give it to print, — for they made no ado about it, and had no thought it would ever be recorded, except, perhaps, in the hearts that were there to partake of it. Yet they will all bear me witness, that there is no small social spot so green as this, in all their memory. They all felt it so, and will so remember it. And it is sample of the New Hampshire Anti-slavery Society — in whose name free Speech and the volunteer Press have been put to death. And it is sample, moreover, of the spirit that pervades the Anti-slavery People of the entire country — who wiU not, I think, allow themselves to be dragged at the chariot wheels of Boardship and Semi-moral Corporation, to grace its triumphs. Yours, for Free Meeting and the Spontaneous Press, N. P. ROGERS. THE SONG OF THE SHIRT. BY lEOMAS HOOD. With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat, in unwomanly rags, Plying her needle and thread — Stitch! stitch! stitch! In poverty, hunger, and dirt And still with a voice of dolorous pitch, She sang " the Song of the Shirt ! " " Work ! work ! work ! While the cock is crowing aloof ! And work — work — work ! Till the stars shine through the roof I It's oh ! to be a slave Along with the barbarous Turk, THE PIONEER. 157 Where woman has never a soul to save, If THIS is Christian work ! " Work — work — work ! Till the brain begins to swim ! Work — work — work ! Till the eyes are heavy and dim ! Seam, and gusset, and band. Band, and gusset, and seam. Till over the buttons I fall asleep. And sew them on in my dream ! " Oh ! men with sisters dear ! Oh ! men with mothers and wives ! It is not linen you're wearing out, But humsui creatures' lives ! Stitch — stitch — stitch ! In poverty, hunger, and dirt Sewing at once, with a double thread, A SHBOun as well as a shirt ! " But why do I talk of death. That phantom of grisly bone ; I hardly fear his terrible shape. It seems so like my own — It seems so like my own. Because of the fast I keep : Oh God ! that bread should be so dear, And flesh and blood so cheap! " Work — work — work ! My labor never flags ; And what are its wages i A bed of straw, A crust of bread — and rags : A shattered roof—and this naked floor — A table — a broken chair — And a wall so blank my shadow I thank For sometimes falling there ! " Work— work — work ! From weary chime to chime ; Work — work — work ! 168 THE PIONEER. As prisoners work, for crime ! Band, and gusset, and seam, Seam, and gusset, and band, Till the heart is sick and the brain benumbed, As well as the weary hand 1 "Work — work — work, In the dull December light : And work — work — work ! When the weather is warm ajid bright : While underneath the eaves The brooding swallows cling. As if to show me their sunny backs. And twit me with the Spring. " Oh ! but to breathe the breath Of the cowslip and primrose sweet ; With the sky above my head, And th6 grass beneath my feet : For only one short hour To feel as I used to feel. Before I knew the woes of want. And the walk thg,t costs a meal ! " Oh ! but for one short hour ! A respite, however brief! No blessed leisure for love or hope. But only time for grief! A little weeping would ease my heart — But in their briny bed My tears must stop, for every drop Hinders needle and thread i" With fingers weaiy and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat, in unwomanly rags, Flying her needle and thread ; Stitchr-^titch— stitch ! In poverty, hunger and dirt ; And still with a voice of dolorous pitch — Would that its tone conld reach the rieh ! — She sung this " Song of the Shirt • " THE PIONEER. 159 RADICALISM. Simply speaking, radicalism is that which goes to the root of things, — and is, therefore, necessary to all thorough reform or investigation. It is the opposite of superficial-ism. Without it no man ever attains to any thing great, morally or intellectually. It is the comer stone of all true reform, of all true character. He who is afraid of it is a coward, he who persecutes it is a bigot, he who despises it is a fOol. I write now of radicalism in its simplest Sense, and according to its literal meaning. But there is a radicalism, so called, which is as great a nuisance as genuine radicalism is a virtue,— a radicalism which is as des- titute of reason as it is of principle, and is as devoid of both as a hen is of teeth. This radicalism is a loud talking, boastful, braggart sort of a thing, destitute of all religion, all reverence, all decency, all cleanliness, all refinement, all delicacy, all honesty, all honor, and all love — and is therefore repulsive to every person of the least elevation of soul, and is in harmony only with beasts and reptiles. Its principles are " loaves," and its priests are " loafers." It has a filthy mouth, and a filthy taste — and outwardly and inwardly is full of all uncleanness. It is a combination of enVy, jealoilsy, prejudice, ignorance, sensualism, brutality, indolence, and spleen. It hates every thing better than itself, and therefore has no need of social affection, — which principle, indeed, has no part in its' composition. It is full of partiality and of hypocrisy, and to the one idea, or fragment of an idea^ to which it clings most tena- ciously, is willing to sacrifice the whole decalogue, and all who have any respect for it. It has volumes to say about elevating the people, while by its every hour's example it is leading them into the deepest degradation. It is fond of the lowest and most disgusting amusements, — and turns up its nose at any thing pol- ished or elegant with an instinct worthy of its parent sty. Under' its auspices rowdyism flourishes like a bed of weeds,— and gross- 160 THE PIONEER. ness, vulgarity, and bad manners find in it their most vigorous nourishment. In fact, — to use a comparison somewhat in keep- ing with the subject, — it serves as manure to every low and degrading vice in the community. I devote a little space to the exposure of this sort of radicalism, because it is stupidly, and somewhat viciously, confounded with that true and wholesome radicalism which is the vital energy of every progressive soul, — and because it frequently rears up its hideous front in the reform field, — and, by its loud braying, forces to itself a large degree of attention, and passes itself off upon ignorant and short-sighted people, as the head and front of the radical movement. This false radicalism is as destitute of the spirit of reform, as a hyena is of love, or as carrion is of sweetness. Wherever it sees cleanliness, and refinement, and beauty, — or discovers any attempt to realize them, — it sees a mark for its coarse ridicule and its nauseous criticism. Whoever will not be "hail fellow! well met ! " with it, is looked upon as a tyrant or an aristocrat, — while the man whose natural distaste for the filthy and obscene leads him to shun it as he would a pestilence — is pounced upon forth- with as an enemy of the dear people. A clean shirt is enough to excite its wrath at any time, — and the slightest polisl^ on the boot will set it raving in an instant. It hates water like the mad dog which is its appropriate type and emblem ; — and for pure air and the fragrance of green fields, has a democratic contempt which is nourished to its fullest extent on tobacco smoke and snuff. . Its raiment is the filth which is constantly generating from its unwashed skin ; its vernacular, impertinence and brutality ; its home, the heart of the lazy and licentious. I have thus given a tame and insufficient picture of a type of radicalism whose brawls and broils are becoming daily more fre- quent, — and whose character ought long since to have been sketched by a more bold and glowing pencil. And yet, faint as is my representation, infinitely short as it is of what might be truly said, I am certain the picture will be quickly recognized by all except the imbruted and blear-eyed original. THE PIONEER. 161 A few words more and I have done. This radicalism which I have been exposing to public view, will, without doubt, be fre- quently found complaining of real evils, and advocating substan- tial truths — just as the Devil is said at times to be a preacher of scripture. It will come, too, frequently, with a fair sounding name, — such as the " Hard Handed Reformer," " the Friend of the People," " the Democrat," &c. &c. But any one with half an eye, and that but half open, must see at a glance that a thing so utterly deficient in all the elements of true greatness, can never do any thing for the human race, which the human race would not be infinitely better without. IT IS LITTLE. FKOM THOMAS N. TALFOnBD's "lON." It is little : But in these sharp extremities of fortune, The blessings which the weak and poor can scatter Have their own season. 'Tis a little thing To give a cup of water ; yet its draught Of cool refreshment, drain'd by fever'd lips, May give a shock of pleasure to the frame More exquisite than when nectarean juice Renews the life of joy in happiest hours. It is a little thing to speak a phrase Of common comfort, which by daily use Has almost lost its sense ; yet on the ear Of him who thought to die unmourn'd, 'twill fall Like choicest music ; fill the glazed eye With gentle tears ; relax the knotted hand To know the bonds of fellowship again ; And shed on the departing soul a sense, More precious than the benison of friends About the honored death-bed of the rich, To him who else were lonely, that another Of the great family is near and feels. 22 162 THE PIONEER. REVIVALS. There is a very general complaint among the American churches that there are no " revivals." The " showers of grace " which of old used now and then to deluge the sectarian fields, seem to be withheld, and a general drouth prevails throughout the land. This complaint is made in sadness and sincerity by some — and in cant and hypocrisy by others. But whatever the motives of those who make it, it is remarkably true. Until th6 last few years, nearly every town and city in the land was subject to the periodical visitation of these sectarian agitations. Day after day, and night after night, the deluded multitudes would gather together in their houses of worship, and enact their religious tragedies, in the most solemn and imposing manner which priestly ingenuity and monkish superstition could invent. In the great name of Christ — that serene and truthful spirit — and in the name of his cheerful and invigorating faith, the poor deluded people were engaged in the most noisy and disgusting performances, by which, annually, hundreds and thousands were hurried into pre- mature graves, or the darker confines of hopeless insanity. Cun- ning men were trained in Sunday schools, and theological sem- inaries, and clerical studies, to conduct the machinery necessary to get up and manage a religious " revival " — and fearful irideed was the mastery which they attained over the human passions. Language is incompetent to give the remotest idea of the influ- ence which these people exerted over their simple and unsuspec- ting victims. And the means used were as unnatural and gross, as the proposed end. The most solemn and unearthly counte- nances were cultivated by the priests and their lay-colleagues with as much care and skill as a modern beau cultivates his whiskers, or a modern belle her bishop. The tone of voice was also artfully studied, — until it reached the most gloomy and sepulchral pitch ; and the eyes were subjected to a sort of eccle- siastical d«ill in horrible keeping with the rest of these foolish and THE PIONEER. 163 inhuman " exercises." And tfiis ridiculous farce was daily and hourly rehearsed for the purpose of saving souls ! Yes, men would lift up their disfigured faces to " heaven," and in the most dismal tones drawl out stupid and unmeaning prayers and exhor- tations by the hour together, — frightening the weak and witless out of all sense of propriety, and " making a nuisance of the blessed air " by their hideous noises — and call it all Christianity .' And many of them were honest in it — and really believed that such religious hubbubs were just what Christ delighted in. The priests, as a general thing, knew better, — ^but getting up and bringing out these nocturnal tragedies was their profession, — and so they followed it, — just as hangmen and butchers follow theirs. Thanks to the healthful and invigorating reforms of the day such " fantastic tricks " are not likely to profane " High Heaven " again for the present. The priests are attempting to revive them, but it cannot be done. I know they are necessary to the existence and power of the priesthood, but this won't alter the matter, — for both must go. To those true souls who love their race, and who really long for a revival of Christianity, I would say : — this nation is in the midst of such a revival, and its indications are all about us. The great Washingtonian movement is a Christian revival by which hundreds and thousands have been born again, and "born of water." The Anti-Slavery agitation, which seems to have grasped this nation by either pole and shaken it to its centre, is a Christian revival, as many an enfranchised spirit will bear cheer- ful testimony. The non-resistance cause, — ^who does not know that it has revived the ancient spirit of Christ in many a noble and devoted heart ? The moral-reform friends, — what but a revi- val of the purest faith is growing up daily beneath their despised but indefatigable labors ? In fine what do the reform meetings, which are going on throughout the vast extent of this country, in behalf of sin-ridden and church-ridden Humanity, show, but that a healthful revival of genuine Christian truth is in the " full tide of successful experiment?" True the church and her pampered 164 THE PIONEER. priesthood do not engage to any extent in this revival. But what does this show ? That it is not a Christian revival ? Not a whit of it, but the exact contrary ; for from time immemorial the church and the priesthood have ridden rough-shod over the interests of humanity — esteeming that their divine prerogative. And the people are getting to understand this. Why, just think of it. — One of the greatest " revivals " which ever blessed the earth, is going on just now in this country (I allude to the great temper- ance revival) and the mass of the clergy know no more about it, and care no more about it, than so many lamp-posts. I say wrong. They do know about it, and care about it — for it is interfering with their " craft," — indeed, actually destroying it — and they are in perfect agony. This great national revival to which I have alluded, is fast spreading over the earth — and no priest nor politician can arrest its progress. Let every true man and woman avail themselves of the " refreshing season," and improve the present hour to do something for humanity. — Every one can do something, the humblest most. It is not a revival of " principalities and powers," but of the simple truth as manifested in the ordinary duties of every day life, and so the most gentle spirit is best qualified for its service. It has none of the " pomp and circumstance " of state or sect affairs. It does not come " with observation." But the " revival " of which I speak is a strong, steady, under-current of sound thought and feeling, swaying the universe with its mighty tide, and yet as quiet as the falling of the dew or the upspringing of the grass. THE PIONEER. 165 EXPOSTULATION AND EEPLY. BT WILLIAM WORDSWOBTB. " Why, William, on that old gray stone, Thus for the length of half a day, Why, William, sit you thus alone. And dream your time away ? Where are your books ? — that light bequeathed To beings else forlorn and blind ! Up! up ! and drink the spirit breathed From dead men to their kind. You look round on your mother earth. As if she for no purpose bore you ; As if you were her first-bom birth, And none had lived before you ! " One morning thus, by Esthwaite lake, When life was sweet, I knew not why. To me my good friend Matthew spake. And thus I made reply : — " The eye, — it cannot choose but see ; We cannot bid the ear be still j Our bodies feel, where'er they be, Against, or with our will. Nor less I deem that there are Powers Which of themselves our minds impress j That we can feed this mind of ours In a wise passiveness. Think you, 'mid all this mighty sum Of thought forever speaking. That nothing of itself will come, But we must still be seeking ? — ^Then ask not wherefore, here, alone. Conversing as I may, I sit upon this old gray stone, And dream my time away." 166 THE PIONEEE. THE TABLES TURNED. AN EVENIN& SCENE ON THE SAME SUBJECT. Up ! up ! my Friend, and quit your books ; Or surely you'll grow double : Up ! up ! my Friend, and clear your looks ; Why all this toil and trouble ? The sun, above the mountain's head, A freshning lustre mellow Through all the long green fields has spread, His first sweet evening yellow. Books ! 'tis a dull and endless strife : Come, hear the woodland Linnet, How sweet his music ! on my life There's more of wisdom in it. And hark ! how blithe the Throstle sings ! He, too, is no mean preacher : Come forth into the light of things, Let Nature be your teacher. She has a world of ready wealth, Our minds and hearts to bless, — Spontaneous wisdom breathed by health. Truth breathed by cheerfulness. One impulse from a vernal wood May teach you more of man. Of moral evil and of good, Than all the sages can. Sweet is the lore which Nature brings ; Our meddling intellect Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things, — We murder to dissect. Enough of Science and of Art ; Close up those barren leaves ; Come forth, and bring with you a heart That watches and receives. THE PIONEER. 167 SIMON AND HIS FAMILY. A SIMPLE STORY FOR CHILDREN. On the western shore of the heautiful lake of Gennesareth, just on the border of Capernaum, there lived a poor fisherman and his family. His name was Simon. He was a simple-hearted man and loved the truth. Euth, his wife, was also known and loved for her purity of character. They lived happily together, and enjoyed to the full the blessings of their lot. They had a large family, and they were very poor, and yet they looked upon their lot as a very pleasant one. They lived in a low hut, with but two apartments. This hut, like most of the poor houses in the East — was composed of mud, reeds, rushes, &c. Their principal food was fish, parched corn, and dates. Their clothing was of the simplest kind, consisting only of a thin linen vest, and a coarse woollen cloak or " tunic." They could not afTord even the common sandals, which are simply a pair of soles with a few straps to bind them to the feet. Stock- ings are never worn in the East. Besides the common expenses of the family, they had to be very hospitable, and entertain many guests. But they did this very cheerfully. And yet, at the time they lived — in the time of Christ — the demands upon their hospitality were very great, I said they lived near Capernaum. Here it was that our Saviour resided during the principal part of his ministry ; and here, there- fore, were constantly many strangers. But how, you will ask, could diey commode strangers, if they had but two rooms ? They slept, as is common in the East, on the tops of their houses, which always have flat roofs ; and ate their frugal repasts under the shady palm tree. The children of this family were not much different from most children. Some were light hearted and thoughtless ; others (the older ones) were more serious and wise". But at the present time, alike the old and the young, the grave and the gay, talked 168 THE PIONEER. much of the time on one subject, and that was, (as you may sup- pose,) the appearance of Jesus. Let me relate a few incidents of this family, that you may have some idea of the prevailing feeling at that time in Capernaum. As Simon and his wife were reclining on the grass one eve- ning, eating their frugal meal, their oldest child, Rebecca, came running up to them and exclaimed : — " Mine eyes hath been con- founded and my understanding hath been shaken." Every eye was fixed upon her expressive countenance, as she stood, the picture of amazement, and uttered these words. " Daughter," said Simon, " my beloved daughter, what has greeted thine eyes, and how hath thy mind been disturbed ? " Rebecca paused for a moment to collect her scattered thoughts, and then said : — " Hearken and I will tell you. As I was walk- ing hither, quietly meditating upon the Great Teacher, I heard a loud murmuring as of many voices. I raised my eyes, and behold, a great multitude of people were gathered together about a 'house near by. Their eyes were all raised to the terrace. — And I looked, and lo ! four men were on it, uncovering the roof, while near them, stretched on a bed, was an emaciated man. And I waited and saw the four men lower the bed into the house through the hole they had made. I knew by the crowd the Teacher was there, and the people round about told me that as no one could get in by the door, they proceeded straightway to lower this man down through the roof, to see if peradventure the Teacher might heal him. And I waited, and lo ! presently, he that was sick, came forth, with his bed in his arms, crying out with a loud voice : — " Blessed be God and his holy Teacher, for how could he do these wonderful works, if God were not with him." And all the people were amazed and cried out : — " We never saw it in this fashion." " Truly," exclaimed Simon, as his daughter had finished her narrative, " truly thou may'st be astonished. I will go and see this wonderful man, and know of him whether he be of God or no." THE PIONEER. 169 And he went forth in search of the Messiah. When he had gone, Rebecca and her mother began to converse about these won- derful things. "Surely," said Rebecca, "this man must be from God: he must be the long expected Messiah." " No," replied her mother, " no, it cannot be. He will appear in great splendor in the temple of Jerusalem. He will not be cradled in a manger." " Mother," interrupted John, a little boy about eight years old, " mother, did n't father say that the Messiah would be a soldier, and that he would kill the wicked Romans ? " " Yes, my child, we expect him to come to lead our armies, and be our king, and restore us to power, and grandeur, and glory, and he will be hailed by our Scribes, and great men ; but as for this man, he is only followed by poor fishermen like your father." " But," said Rebecca, "how could he heal the sick if God were not with him ? " " He must be a cheat ! " said John. thus they talked about Jesus, when he first appeared to them. They 'expected a great king. The children wanted to see a fine soldier. They thought, — ^the children and their parents, — that he would come in robes of purple and gold ; that he would have nothing to do with poor fishermen's families ; and that he would live in magnificence, and have splendid carriages, and horses, and all kinds of costly things. They thought, too, that he would dwell only with the rich and learned. But what has become of Simon ? He went out to find this man who called himself the Saviour. Did he find him ? Yes, atld when he returned to his home fell on the grass and exclaimed:—*' Have mercy on me, Oh God, for I am in trouble." Rebecca threw herself upon his face and asked him whence came his g^ief. When he had recovered himself, he said :—" My hopes are all blasted. My heart is grieved for my people ; for we looked for a 23 170 THE PIONEER. Saviour, and lo there cometh a man full of strange things. For as I went out hy the house of Levi, I saw the Teacher reclining at his table; and I went in and behold he was at meat with Publi- cans and sinners."— And here the afflicted Simon wept aloud, while his daughter Rebecca bent over him and wiped the tears from his eyes with her hair. Simon had been taught, and he had taught his children, to hold no communion with publicans, — and here was a man, pretending to be the Messiah, actually eating and drinking with them. After a short time, Benjamin (the youngest son) broke the silence and said : — " Father, why is it wrong for me to play with Samuel, the little publican, as you call him ? " " Because, my son, the Publicans collect the taxes which the wicked Romans make us pay, — and it is wrong to haye anything to do with them." Benjamin could say nothing in reply to his father at first, but presently he timidly asked : — " Is n't Samuel's father a good man ? He looks as if he were. He is always kind to his wife and children, and they are all good to his poor old mother. I have seen him do many good deeds. And I am sure, father, that Samuel is one of the best boys in the world, though I never played with him because you told me not to play with any Pub- lican's children." Simon replied that he did n't care how good they seemed. They were Publicans and that was enough ! — ^but he turned to his wife and said : — " Ruth, I wonder if the Teacher reasons about the Publicans like our little boy ! " ,4 " You know," interrupted Rebecca, " that he told your brother Andrew that if he would enter into the kingdom of Heaven, he must become like a little child. Perhaps, now, he meant that he must become as unprejudiced, as simple-hearted as my little brother. Now, you see, brother only thinks about the goodness of the Publican, and the Publican's son ; and if they are good) he don't see why he should n't play with them." ******* THE PIONEEE. 171 Such conversafion as this took place every day. Simon, and Ruth, and Rebecca, went often to hear the Teacher ; for they wanted to know if he was indeed and in truth the Son of God. And, before long, the more they heard, the more they wanted to hear. He preached differently from their priests. " He preached as one having authority, and not as the Scribes," and they said to themselves : — " Never man spake like this man." They soon became believers. The children all loved Jesus, because he was kind to them. He took them up in his arms and blessed them. They knew that he loved them. And when he saw them engaged in their innocent recreations, and heard their pleasant voices, he did not check them and shroud their faces with gloom, but he com- mended their simplicity ; and when preaching to men and women who were full of deception, who thought that religion consisted in long faces and outward observances, he pointed them to the beauty of childhood, and told them that must be their model if they would enter into the. kingdom of Heaven. Let me relate an incident to show how the children of that day acted. The child of a Publican, a Roman Tax-gatherer, was walking in one of the streets of Cstpej-naum, on his way home with a basket of fish. He was anxious to get home, for it was growing late. But as he went along, a little boy ran against him, threw him down and scattered alt his fishes on the ground. The careless boy, instead of stopping to see if the lad was hurt, and instead of offering to pick up the fishes he had spilt, said to him : — " If you were not liM son of a Publican, I should be sorry, but now I am glad ; you must now get along how you can, you young tax- gatherer." The little Publican, whose arm was hurt in the fall, had his feelings much more hurt by such unkindness. But he wiped the tears from his eyes and commenced to fill his basket. Just then a little lad came along and assisted him, and when the fishes were all in the basket, he helped him carry them home. The unfortunate boy was so happy at this unexpected kindness that he forgot that his arm was hurt. When he got home, he 172 THE PIONEEE. told his father the whole story, and he thanked the little Christian for helping his son. " And why," said he, " did you so gladly help my little boy ? You know most every Jew despises a Publican, and will do noth- ing for him." " Because," said the good boy, " because when the Saviour was in my father's house, he called me to his side and put his hand on my head, and wh^n he had blessed me, he said if I would be his disciple and the child of God, I must do unto others as I would have others do unto me. — Now if I should be knocked down, I should be grateful to any one who would lend me a help- ing hand, and that's why I helped your son." " And what is your name ?" " My name is John, the son of Simon the Christian." Under such influences, Simon, Ruth, and all their family, became good Christians, and after Jesus died, always celebrated the aimiversary of his birth with grateful hearts, THE TIMES, THE MANNERS, AND THE MEN. B7 JAMES BDSSELL LOWELL. The times demand new measures and new men ; The world advances, and in time outgrows The laws that in our fathers' days were best ; And doubtless, after us, some purer scheme Will be shaped out by wiser men than we. Made wiser by the steady growth of truth. We cannot bring Utopia at once ; Bat better almost be at work in sin, Than in a brute inaction drowse Emd sleep. No man is born into the world, whose work Is not born with him ; there is always work. And tools to work withal, for those who will ; And blessed are the horny hands of toil ! The busy world shoves angrily aside The man who stands witjx arms akimbo set, THE PIONEER. 173 Until occasion tells him what to do ; And he who waits to hare his task marked out, Shall die and leave his errand unfulfilled. Our time is one that calls for earnest deeds. Bea&on and Government, like two broad seas, Yearn for each other, with outstretched arms, Across this narrow isthmus of the throne, And roll their white surf higher every day. The field lies wide before us where to reap The easy harvest of a deathless name, Though with no better sickles than our swords. My soul is not a palace of the past. Where out-worn creeds like Bome's gray Senate quake. Hearing afar the Vandal's trumpet hoarse. That shakes old systems with a thunder-fit. The time is ripe, and rotten-ripe, for change ; Then let it come. I have no dread of what Is called for by the instinct of mankind. Nor think I that God's world will fall apart Because we tear a parchment more or less. Truth is eternal, but her efiluence. With endless change is fitted to the hour ; Her mirror is turned forward, to reflect The promise of the future, not the past. I do not fear to follow out the truth, Albeit along the precipice's edge. Let us speak pUun ; there is more force in names Than most men dream of! and a lie may keep Its throne a whole age longer, if it skulk Behind the shield of some fair seeming name ; Let us call tyrants, tyeants, and maintain That only freedom comes by grace of God, And all that comes not by his grace must fall ; For men iu earnest have no time to waste In patching fig-leaves for the naked truth. 174 THE PIONEER. NEW ORLEANS. (This and the succeeding sketch were written in 1842 for the Nantucket Inquirer, edited at that time by my gifted friend Hiram B. Dennis. They contain several passages which do not chime with my present thoughts ; but thinking that as a whole they might serve to give " variety," if not " spice, " to my rather sombre volume, and break up its wearisome mono-lone, I have thought it expedient to give them a place.) Mr. Editor : — New Orleans is a place. It reminds you of no other in the wide world. Such a heterogeneous mass of men and women, of bricks and mortar, of sunshine, moonshine, and shade, you never saw. Talk of New York with its splendid nothings ; its mixed up population ; its curious amalgamations of black, white, grizzle, and grey ; its Wall streets and wall flowers; its Broadways leading to destruction, and its narrow ways lead- ing everywhere : — talk of Philadelphia with its grave people, and grave-yards ; its brotherly love and sisterly lovers ; its regular angles and irregular anglers ; its neat people and neat cattle ; its uniform streets and multi-form manners : — talk of Boston, the Emporium of letters and writers ; its Tri-mont and Tremont ; its Washington street and Washington Societies: — talk even of Nantucket, with its bar and bar-gains ; its sires and Siasconset ; its camels and candles ; its pretty girls — ^but stop, they may not be rivalled : — talk of all these villages, of their charms and charm- ers ! — Good sir, who talks of them, save in dreams, has never seen New Orleans ! Here truly is life ; and if variety be the spice of life. New Orleans is all-spice. Here we have the glittering French ; the haughty Spanish; the shrewd Yankee ; the proud Creole ; the musical Italian ; the simple Swiss ; the sturdy German ; the solid Dutchman ; the Buck and Buck-eye ; Hoosiers and Back-woods-men ; — all jum- bled together, so that they out-babel Babel, and (with the assis- tance of the Jews) present a piece of Mosaic — all set, by the way, in black — ^which would astonish you. Come with me down to the " Levee. " How quickly you ask :— THE PIONEER. 175 " how, are you not frightened to have that impetuous and dirty- looking river, running by you, with the full consciousness that it may, in a moment, break down that barrier of mud and pork, and make your whole people a ' floating population ' ? " No, friends, that river is our best friend. We repose on her bosom in perfect security. Her banks will not break. There is no tide in her afiairs which we fear. We are her favorite daughter. Her bap- tism gave us life. And, in these hardest of times, her waters will be our salvation. Amazed with the sight, you will ask : — " whence and whither that myriad of boats, puffing and snorting as if impatient to break from the shores?" Faith, it would take long to answer you: they come from every stream of navigable water above us, and around us, for thousands of miles,; and never come empty-handed, nor empty-headed. See the cords of produce piled up around you. Hear the old planks groan and fret beneath the weight of wealth heaped upon them ; hark to the merry chorus of a thousand voices, of every tone and tenor, which from " orient day's uprise " to the setting of the ' sun, peal forth their song of industry : see and hear all this, and tell me, did you ever know what business life was, before ? But let us leave this noisy place. Come with me, and look at yon lofty palace, with its noble columns which seem as if they were proud of their burden. Look at that lofty dome, so beautiful that to gaze upon it "The moroing hastes to ope its lids." Mark its harmonious proportions ! See how its spacious windows are festooned " With damask rich, and snowy white, To mellow mid-day's dazzling light." And now pass with me through its massive doors ; — and after you have examined its splendid apartments, tell me where have you seen the equal of the St. Charles Hotel in architectural beauty, and elegant arrangement ? 176 THE PIONEER. But let us drop the curtain on these scenes, and stroll down in the " Lower Faubourg " — the French section of the city* Here a new view opens upon you. What think you of those one-and- a-half-story cottages, — (almost the only kind in this section of the city,) — ^with their weU-scoured sidewalks, their shining stoops, their projecting eaves, their tiled roofs ? And, above all, how like you, this sunny afternoon, the looks of those happy children playing about the little garden plots, with their mammas and grand- mammas ? How does it suit your taste to see those young Creole belles, sitting by the door-way or the window, chattering away like parrots, and " coining the air into sweet sounds," with their merry laugh ? If you understand French — that most Sparkling of all tongfues, for colloquy — ^your sides wiU shake with laughter, and your face will glow with joy, as you admire their quick repartee, and their brilliant wit. See that old man^and it is a common sight^^^Who^e head is " white for the harvest," and on whose countenance are writ the joys and sorrows of four score years. See how brisk he is in his old age ! Hear that joke trembling on his lips, and see the light play upon his countenance, reflected from his children and grand- children. Note too, how tastefully those Mesdames and Madam- oiselles are dressed. How carefully their hair is combed off from their lofty brows, and with what exquisite neatness it is arranged ! Observe that srlowy hand, that tiny foot, that beautifuly chiselled ankle ; and remember, that you may tell the belles of the North, how each item of dress, from the delicate hair-pin down to the shoe-latchet, is so arranged as best to display the beauties of Nature. What regular and beautiful teeth! What sparkling eyes! What exquisite naivete of address! But let us move along; — you are observing too closely! And yet, stay one moment. Mark you those colored children ? — those " carbonated white ones ? " Are you not surprised to see how all the people' love them, and how pleasantly they are allowed to mix upVith their little " mammas and missesses ? "—See that little negro dance ! — she is music and motion from head to foot. Here comes THE PIONEER. 177 an Organ Grinder. Look ! they are beckoning to him ! Now for some fun! Ha, ha, ha ! — See the children flock round him ! The poor fellow has hardly elbow room. He is a popular man in New Orleans, — the Organ Grinder. You will think so, if you stop a moment. "What a crowd is gathered about him ! How he grinds the music, to order. .You may not think so, but that is " Home, sweet home ! " he is playing now ! How crank it sounds ! — and yet they love it — those children. See the negroes out yonder, — two squares distant ;— 'they are beating time with every limb and feature. — Hark ! the music is stopped, and there goes round a monkey, dressed in uniform, with a hat in one hand, politely receiving " de monies," while with the other he is as busy as Gen. Jackson or his friend Jack Downing, bowing to the assembled wisdom. He soon reaps a silver harvest for the silvery notes of his master, and now we shall have four or five last pieces, to the tune of which we will march off. As it is sundown, let us go towards home. On the way we will stop at the two Ex- changes. That magnificent building, yonder, is the St. Louis Exchange, one of the most expensive buildings in the country ; — it cost about $1,500,000. Come in with me. What a splendid rotunda ! — How beautifully the walls are frescoed ! How the watchful echoes wake, and teU all your secrets, as you promenade its tesselated floor ! Those splendid desks around you belong to auctioneers ! Hear that brazen-tongued fellow sell. He's got a voice like Sten- tor ! But no — let us not hear him, he is selling men and women : that grates on our ears ; it will spoil our day's amusement. We will go and hear that, some " more convenient season." Do you see that bar ? How temptingly the liquors are spread out there! With what taste are those instruments of death arranged ! How this Armory of tjie Devil sparkles ! How its insidious weapons shine ! See those delicate sandwiches ; that snow-white bread ; those little cakes ; those tempting sardines ; those cigars ; they almost tempt me to stop. We must admit one thing ; these Epicurean rogues do things up tastefully — and do it 24 17S THE PIONEER. openly. Nothing is done sub rosa as you used to say in College, or " under the rose," as I used to say in the Coffin School. But before you go, admit that the New York Exchange (if you have ever seen it,) will do, but that the St. Louis is the Exchange, after all. Now we'll adjourn to the American Exchange : for I should have told you (as you might have learned from the alternate bad French and worse English of that auctioneer,) that the St. Louis Exchange is the result of French, or rather Creole, enterprise. The American Exchange (called " the Merchants' ") is Yankee ; a solid building, but not showy. This, however, is no mean affair, and cost $500,000. Do you ask why there is such a crowd here ? " It is 'change hour. " What, high 'change at 7 o'clock P. M ? " Certainly. Our merchants prefer the cool of the day for their Exchange hour. The sea-captains are on hand, then, to negotiate for freights. You observe this fine rotunda is filled, almost, with sea captains. They do all their business, in the way of freight-getting, here. See those ship-brokers preying round them like sharks ! See that cunning fellow put the soft-sodder into that raw-looking down-east captain ! But it won't do. He is not so raw as he looks. With one word of his Yankee logic he tears to pieces the whole fabric of fine words whispered into his ear, and says : — " I must have a ha'penny more or I don't trade." But as you are getting tired of sight-seeing, let's go home to supper, and in the morning, bright and early, I '11 go with you to our Cathedral and Markets. THE PIONEER. 179 NEW ORLEANS.— NO. 2. WRITTEN FOE THE "NANTUCKET INQUIRER." Mr. Editor : — I promised to take you to the Cathedral this morning. Let us go there before the tramp of " many footed care " is heard in our streets. The morning is bright and clear, and the serene voices of Nature will go with us to the house of worship, chastening our desires and tempering our passions. The matin bells ringing out their welcome, and the music of happy birds breathing out their unconscious worship, will awake Uie harmonies of our soul : while the incense of our hearts shall go up with the fragrance of the flowers as a thank-offering to Heaven. We can easily find the venerable Cathedral, not only by its ancient towers — which loom up among the surrounding buildings, like the hoary head of an old man in a crowd of children — ^but by following the happy groups which, even now, are wending their way thitherward. You observe each group is a family. Let us examine one of them. First, see those impatient children ; hand in hand, heart in heart, fresh as the morning, tripping gaily along, with but a dim idea of the purpose of their walk, but yet with a sort of conscious- ness that it is good for them to be here, and that they are soon to tread on holy ground. Now mark those young misses and mas- ters, who are just budding into womanhood and manhood, who walk soberly along, yet with cheerful faces and light step, feeling that they are engaged in their holiest duty, and whose religion is a bright and happy thing, because it is wreathed all round with the sweet associations of home. In them the flame of devotion (or superstition) bums with a cheerful light, because it was kindled at the family altar, and is fanned by the breath of paren- tal love. — Then come the parents of the children, their counte- nances glowing with family pride, though shaded by the memory of some who have gone to worship in " temples not made with 180 THE PIONEER. hands." — Last, though not least, come the old folks, the grand- sires and grandames — who for three score years, maybe, punctual as the sun, have walked in the same path ; and the greenest spot in whose minds is the memory of the happy hours spent with their family around the altar. With them religion has been twined with every family association, and is the ground work of the family picture. Now this group, my friend, is but one of many who are this moment wending their way to the house of prayer, to bathe their spirits at the " Holy Font " and consecrate themselves anew to duty and to God. — But hold ! Here we are, in front of the Cath- edral ! Let us step aside and let the crowd enter. Observe with what reverence they approach ! See that old man uncover his head before yet he has entered the portals : and mark how every head is uncovered ere it passes the threshold. Now stand aside a little for those colored men and women. They have been to the market for their " daily bread," and now they are here to thank the Giver. See them lay down their baskets, and join the congregation. Here is no distinction of color ! — Black and white mix freely together, to worship the common Father. They all dip in the same font, kiss the same crucifix, kneel by the same altar. Side by side, the rich and the poor, the master and the slave, humble themselves together, and stand on the common plat- form of humanity. Here are no negro pews — no dividing lines. The wall of prejudice is broken down, the wide gulf which sep- arates man from his brother is absorbed by the Sun of Highteous- ness. Mark you, too, within these walls is no levity, no indiffer- ence. Call it superstition, if you will j smile, if you must, at my credulity ; but I tell you that the dove of God rests upon this temple, and that the incense of these humble hearts is sweet as the breath of the flowers. That image, before which they bow and cross themselves, is a symbol of the Great Spirit to them ; that water is to them the water of life ; that consecrated wafer the seal of their heart. That chant may not be plain to you, but to them it is like the " music of the spheres." Those priestly THE PIONEER. 181 forms may seem mockery to you — ^but they are sacred realities to them. Those words may wake no echo in your breast, but they play upon their chords, as if the " harp of thousand strings " had been touched by the finger of heaven. Those beautiful paintings, those holy scenes with which the walls are decorated, may be unmeaning to you, but to those who come up hither to worship, they shine with the light of heaven. These ancient walls are written all over with holy lessons, which the eye of faith only can read. Within these walls the imagination is enlisted in the cause of religion, and paints every holy thing with the roseate hues of beauty. Here is nothing stem — nothing repulsive. The dry bones of theology are not hung up, interrorem, over the heads of this congregation. On this ground are fought no religious duels. No skeleton of a creed is displayed here as a substitute for the " body of Christ." — I know the Catholic theology and its theoretic harshness — ^but it does not intrude itself within the walls of the church ; it sleeps in ponderous tomes, which dare not open their lids within this temple. But hold ; — I am departing from my plan, which is not to moralize, but to describe. And as the service is now over, let us go out, and while the worshippers go to their homes, let us tarry and gaze upon this venerable pile. How ancient it looks ! It was built — I don't know when — before either you or I were, a long time. See, it is gray with age. How wrinkled its old face ! See what inroads Time has made upon its sides. The old bell does not speak as it qnce did. Its voice is broken. But it is a stately pile yet. It has a portly bearing, and seems almost conscious of its worth. It looks like an old castle which having stood the brunt of many storms, had now become storm-proof. It does not seem to have grown any older these last ten years. Old Time has forgotten it, or has blunted his sickle against its walls. It seems as if Nature had " adopted it for her own," " And granted it an equal date With Andes and the Aarrarat." 1S2 THE PIONEER. 1 Long may it stand. Long may its cloistered aisles resound to the tread of humble worshippers. May the fire never go out upon its altars ! But when its time has come, and " perpetual droppings have worn away the rock,'' when its arches shall have become straightened, and its towers shall have been laid low, when its " restless iron tongue " shall be no more restless, but shall be where " there is no variableness or shadow of turning ;" when those who ministered at its altars have become ministering angels, may this temple, " so curiously and wonderfully made," have an abiding place in the hearts of the people, and the good lessons which were written on its walls, be transferred to the tables of the mind. Every Saturday evening masses are offered in this Cathedral, for the soul of its founder, Don Andre — and accordingly on that evening the bell peals forth its mournful tones to recall his memory. It is a peculiarity of the old residents, the Creoles, of New Orleans, that they treasure up the memory of their religious benefactors with unfailing gratitude. The venerable Pere Anto- nio de Sedella, the Curate of the Parish for nearly fifty years, is universally remembered, and his lessons handed down from father to son, so that they are as familiar with many as household words. He was universally venerated for his benevolence, and was sup- posed, during his ministration, to have performed nearly half of the marriage and funeral services in New Orleans. He died at the ripe age of 90, A. D., 1837. His remains lie at the foot of the altar, and I doubt not his memory will be kept green for many years to come. This memory-of benefactors, especially religious benefactors, is a beautiful trait in Catholic families, and one which should " cover a multitude of sins." THE PIONEER. 183 MIDNIGHT MCJSIC. BY MES. L. H. SIGOURNEY. "The Rev. Geobgb Herbert, in one of his walks to Salisbury,. to join a musical society, saw a poor man with a poorer horse, that had fallen under his load. Putting off his canonical coat, he helped him to unload, and afterwards to load his horse. The poor man blessed him for it, and he blessed the poor man. And so like was he to the good Samaritan, that he gave him money to refresh both himself and his horse, at the same time admonishing him, that " if he loved himself, he should be merciful to his beast." So, leaving the poor man, and coming unto his musical friends at Salisbury, they began to wonder, that Mr. George Herbert, who always used to be so trim and clean, should come into that company so sailed and discomposed ; but he told them the reason, and one of them said to him, " he had disparaged himself by so mean an employment," his answer was, that " he thought what he had done would prove music to him at mi(l- night, and that the omission of it would have made discord in his conscience, whenever he should pass by that place. For if," said he, " I am bound to pray for all who are in distress, 1 am surely bound, as far as it is in my power, to practice what 1 pray for. And though 1 do not wish for the occasion every day, yet, let me tell you, I would not willingly pass one day of my life, without comforting a sad soul, or sliowing mercy ; and I bless God for this opportunity. So, now let us tune our instruments." What maketh music, when the bird Doth hush its merry lay, And the sweet spirit of the flowers Hath sighed itself away ? What maketh music, when the frost Doth chain the murmuring riU, And every song that summer woke In winter's trance is still ? What maketh music, when the winds To hoarse encounter rise, When ocean strikes his thunder-gong, And the rent cloud replies ? When no adventurous planet dares The midnight arch to deck, And in its startling dream the babe Doth clasp its mother's neck ? And when the fiercer storms of life Do o'er the pilgrim sweep, And earthquake voices claim the hopes He treasured long and deep. 1S4 THE PIONEEE. When loud and threatening passions roar, Like lions in their den, And vengeful tempests lash the shore, — What maketh music then ? The deed to humble virtue born, Which nursing memory taught To shun the boastful world's applause. And love the lowly thought — This builds a cell within the heart, Amid the weeds of care. And tuning high its heaven-strung harp. Doth make sweet music there. REST. BT GEORaE S. BUKLEIGH. I thank ye, oh ye ever noiseless stars ! That ye do move so silent, in your high Eternal marches through the voiceless sky. When Earth's loud clamor on the spirit jars, — The captive's groans, the victor's loud huzzas, And the worn toiler's deep'ning hunger cry, — Then from your height ye gaze so placidly, That the low cares whose fretful breathing scars Life's holy deeps, shrink back abashed before The love-sad meekness of your still rebuke, And the calmed soul forgets the earth-storm's roar In the deep trust of your majestic look, TiU through the heart by warring passions torn, Some pulse of your serener life is borne. THE PIONEER. 185 A SCRAP OP HISTORY. Thirteen years ago there were in this great country about two and a half millions of chattel slaves. This was the great fact — the " fixed fact " — of its condition. Churches were springing up like mushrooms in every section of the land, dedicated by the most imposing solemnities to the worship of " God : " hundreds and thousands of young men were leaving all secular employ- ments, and consecrating themselves to the preaching of the " Gos- pel : " revivals were taking place in every city and town : the people were flocking like sheep into the " fold : " Bible Societies, Tract Societies, Missionary Societies, Sunday School Societies, and innumerable minor organizations for " religious " purposes, were multiplying in every direction : the precise cost of seeking out and saving every soul in the known world (barring the afore- said two and a half millions,) was calculated by evangelical mathematicians to a picayune : there was not a man, woman, or child, in the country, (the two and a half millions again excep- ted,) who had not the sweet consciousness that at least a dozen persons of undoubted orthodoxy felt a lively interest in the eter- nal welfare of his (or her) " soul : " and there was scarcely a child but what knew the Westminster (or some other) Catechism by rote, and could prove to a demonstration that every one who did'nt believe its thirty-nine, (or what not) mysterious articles, would be eternally damned. Indeed the evangelical precocity of this nation was the theme of all evangelical lips, and the joy of all evangeli- cal hearts. Prayers went up every morning and evening, thank- ing God that this nation was not as other nations were, — and the United States were looked upon as foreordained of God to furnish a hitherto benighted world with the model of a " Christian Repub- lic ! " — " A Cheistian Republic ! " — these were the magic words ; ^and it was delightful to see how zealously " Young America " worked to fulfil her high destiny among the nations, by seeking 25 186 THE PIONEEK. to convert all others to her own great, glorious, and successful principles ! When on the " Lord's day," — ^they always allowed him one ! — the busy hum of industry suddenly ceased, and all useful employ- ments were piously suspended, — and the whole people, laying aside their every-day dresses, their every-day conversation, their every-day countenances, and their every-day gait, — proceeded in solemn crowds to the " house of God," headed by their priests, who were distinguished from the rest by costliness of dress and longitude of features ; — and when, " filled with solemn awe," the pious crowds entered their respective tabernacles, and seated themselves within the consecrated walls in the order of their wealth, (the rich in the best seats, the poor in the worst, accord- ing to the injunction of Jesus !) and when they all listened with devout patience to their spiritual leaders, whose hollow tones indi- cated so plainly that they were " not of this earth ; " and when, added to all this, the little children were as solemn, and as unearthly, as the most practised of their parents, — I say, when all this, and much more, took place once in every seven days, to the entire exclusion of all useful employments, it was thought that the Spirits of Heaven must rejoice in their high spheres, and the Recording Angel drop his pen in extasy of joy at the sight of such a " peculiar " people ! And yet all this while there were — this being a " peculiar " fact in this " Christian Republic " — two and a half millions of chattel slaves in our midst, and the number daily increasing, — yet no one voice among all this " Christian " people to call attention to the fact ! Indeed so great was the progress which the " Christ- ians " of America had made in moral science, they had discovered in course of their brilliant career that chattel slavery was a " Bible Institution," and therefore in keeping with the precepts of Christ, and entitled to their vigorous support. Indeed it was whispered that Professor Stewart, or some other of the great " divines " of the country, had discovered an ancient manuscript giving another of Christ's mountain sermons, in which he proved to the aston- THE PIONEER. 187 ished people that to do unto others as we would they should do to us is in no way inconsistent with huying and selling them in the shambles. And also that a new " table " had been excavated by a recent traveller in the East, on which was written in charac- ters unintelligible to anybody except the learned " divines " of this " Christian Republic : " — " A new commandment give I unto you — that you consign all persons of African descent to eternal slavery, you and your children, and your children's children to the latest generation." Whether this report is true or not, the afore- said " divines " gave countenance to it by their practice, which, with few exceptions, was to treat slavery with the same parental care which they extended to Missionary Societies, Sunday Schools, and other of their " Institutions." All this thirteen years ago, — ^when American Piety and United States Godliness were at the flood. About that time, a young printer, in the obscure paths of life, conceived the idea, in his ignorance, that chattel slavery was an unmitigated evil, — and even went so far as to think it inconsistent with the precepts of Jesus Christ. And the more he thought of these things, — being a common sort of man, without any " advantages," — the truer and more important they seemed to him, until at last he was com- pelled by the clamor of his convictions, to utter them. With this intent he published a little sheet called " The Liberator " — and (according to an unfortunate habit he had got into for want of a more thorough religious training) he spoke out his thoughts in plain ungamished English, calling a man, a man — and a thief, a thief, — ^until he had, in an incredibly short time, woke up the whole nation, and his name was as familiar to every slave-holder in the land as his own. He had also, at the tap of his drum, drawn around him a few faithful followers, who proclaimed the great principles 'of freedom far and wide, and thus drew upon themselves the scorn and persecution of the whole community, especially that part of it (priests, deacons, elders, &c.) which pro- fessed the greatest devotion to the principles of Jesus Christ. The untiring fidelity of this class of persons to the defence and 188 THE PIONEER. support of slavery, and their bitter persecution of its opponents, entitles them to the affectionate remembrance of every tyrant on earth, and every devil in hell. But despite of persecutions, this young printer continued to put forth his intrepid sheet, which was more terrible to the South than an army with banners ; — and its influence was soon felt, and its noble work seen, all over the country. The fatal calm into which the public conscience had subsided was broken up, and every heart not corroded by slavery itself, or stupified by the church, was touched with a sense of the slave's wrongs. Never did God — I do not speak now of the God of the church who is tnily enough represented to be himself a slave-holder, but of the one God, owr Father — advance a cause more speedily than that which was thus set on foot by William Lloyd Gareison. Its history is but a succession of the most brilliant triumphs. Commencing with a few despised and unlettered people, it has since had in its ranks some of the most brilliant scholars, orators, poets, and moralists of the land ; as the names of FoUen, Chan- ning, Rogers, Phillips, Pierpont, Quincy, Whittier, Burleigh, Loring, Chapman, Brown, Child, Hildreth, Bradburn, Mott, Lowell, Weld, Emerson, Grimke, Stetson, and a whole host of other stars which have appeared in the Anti-Slavery firmament, abundantly attest. Despised, at first, by every State in the Union, its influence is now courted in State affairs, and it is annually disgusted with the fawning suppliancy of both the great parties which divide (and devour) the country. Hunted like a felon, a few years since, into " upper chambers," and deserted stables, — and mobbed by five thousand of the most respectable and the highest standing people in Boston, who sought the life of its founder, and came near being successful in their murderous intent, — it now has the free use of the Massachusktts State House, ay more, of her very " Dome of thought and palace of the soul," old Faneuil Hall itself. THE PIONEER, 1S9 Passed by, but yesterday, with scorn and contempt, by high and low, its Fairs are now crowded by the Uiie of the nation, and its intrinsic excellencies and brilliant achievements have secured for it that universal respect which must soon lead to universal sup- port. Barred out, at the commencement, of every church in the land, even that " Institution" (always the most malignant foe of human rights) is beginning to relax her persecutions, — and open her doors. THE LAY OF THE LABORER. BT THOMAS HOOD. A spade ! a rake ! a hoe ! A pickaxe, or a bill ! A hook to reap, or a scythe to mow, A flail, or what you will — And here's a ready hand To ply the needful tool. And skill enough by lessons rough In labor's rugged school. To hedge, or dig the ditch, To lop or fell the tree, To lay the swarth on the sultry field, Or plough the stubborn lea, The harvest stack to bind, The wheaten rick to thatch ; And never fear in my pouch to find The tinder or the match. To a flaming bsim or farm My fancies never roam ; The fire I yearn to kindle and bum Is on the hearth of home ; Where children huddle and crouch Through dark long winter days, Where starving children huddle and crouch To see the cheerful rays 190 THE PIONEER. A-glowing on the haggard cheek, And not in the haggard's blaze ! To Him who "sends a drought To parch the fields forlorn, The rain to flood the meadows with mud. The blight to blast the corn — To Him I leave to guide The bolt in its crooked path, To strike the miser's rick, and show The skies blood-red with wrath. A spade ! a rake ! a hoe ! A pickaxe, or a bill ! A hook to reap, or a scythe to mow, A flail, or what ye will — The com to thrash, or the hedge to plash. The market team to drive. Or mend the fence by the cover side, And leave the game alive. Ay, only give me work, And then you need not fear That I shall snare his worship's hare. Or kiU his grace's dear — Break into his lordship's house, To steal the plate so rich, Or leave the yeoman that had a purse, To welter in the ditch. Wherever nature needs, "Wherever labor calls. No job I'll shirk of the hardest work. To shun the workhouse walls. Where savage laws begrudge The pauper babe its breath. And doom a wife to a widow's life Before her partner's death. My only claim is this, With labor stiff and stark, By lawful turn my UvLiis to earn, THE PIONEER. 191 Between the light and dark — My daily bread and nightly bed, My bacon and drop of beer — But all from the hand that holds the land, And none from the overseer ! No parish money or loaf, No pauper badges for me, A son of the soil, by right of toil. Entitled to my fee. No alms I ask, give me my task : Here are the arm, the leg. The strength, the sinews of a man. To work, and not to beg. Still one of Adam's heirs, Though doomed by chance of birth To dre.ss so mean, and eat the lean Instead of the fat of the earth ; To make such humble meals As honest labor can, A bone and a crust, with a grace to God, And Uttle thanks to man ! A spade ! a rake ! a hoe ! A pickaxe, or a biU ! A hook to reap, or a scythe to mow, A flail, or what ye will — Whatever the tool to ply. Here is a willing drudge, With muscle and limb — and wo to him Who does their pay begrudge. Who every weekly score Docks labor's little mite. Bestows on the poor at the temple-door. But robbed them over-night. The very shilling he hoped to save. As health and morals fail. Shall visit me in the New Bastile, The spital or the gaol ! 192 THE PIONEER. JESUS CHRIST. The opponents of the reform movements of the present day, fre- quently quote Jesus Christ as being opposed to all violent agita- tions. They deny that he was an agitator, and commend to us his meek and gentle spirit. In this waj they defend the quietness of religious professors and preachers in view of our dreadful national sins. The common people are everywhere made to believe Jesus Christ was opposed to these great moral excite- ments, and, therefore, that such men as Garrison, and Rogers, and Phillips, and Douglass, and Remond, in exposing with an unspar- ing hand the corruptions of church, and state, are going in direct opposition to the example of the Saviour. It is strange enough, when we consider the facts in the case, that this view should have obtained so widely. My attention was called to it, just now, by the following extract from a lecture recently delivered in New York, by Major Noah, on the " Resto- ration of the Jews " : — "The Jews were amazed, perplexed and bewildered at all they saw and heard. They knew Jesus from his birth : he was Iheir neighbor, they knew his father Joseph, and Mary his mother, his brothers, James and Judas ; he was in constant intercourse with his brethren in their domestic relations, and surrounded by their household gods ; they remembered him a boy, disputing, as was the custom, most learnedly with the doctors in the temple : as a man, pursuing, to the age of thirty, the modest and laborious calling of his pro- fession ; and yet he proclaimed himself the Son of God, and performed most wonderful miracles, was surrounded by a number of disciples, poor, but ex- traordinarily gifted men, who sustained his doctrines, and had an abiding faith in his mission ; he gathered strength and followers as he progressed ; he denounced the whole nation, and prophecied its destruction with their altars and temples ; he preached against whole cities and proscribed their leaders with a force, which even at this day would shake our social systems. The Jews became alarmed at his increasing power and influence, and the San- hedrim resolved to become his accuser, and bring him to trial under the law as laid down in the 13th of Deuteronomy." Who does not perceive and appreciate the literal truthfulness THE PIONEER. 193 of this extract ? "Who does not know that in point of fact, Jesus Christ was the greatest agitator the world has ever seen ? He was constantly uttering the most unpalatable sentiments, and administering the most unwelcome rebukes. He attacked the " peculiar institutions " of the Jews — especially their church and clergy, which was never half so corrupt as ours — ^with a perti- nacity and a power which nearly drove them mad. The church and clergy, from his advent to his crucifixion, pursued him with the most relentless persecutions, and used all their immense influ- ence over the people to excite them to the murderous deed which at last they committed. The politicians were equally infuriated, and determined from the first that that vile infidel, Jesus Christ, who was attacking their God-ordained institutions, should seal his wickedness with his blood. And their vile threats were put in execution. Yet, in face and eyes of these facts, it is constantly contended by our church and clergy, and by our laity in many instances, that Jesus was a quiet sort of a person, whose gentle nature would not allow him to disturb any of the existing in- stitutions by which he was surrounded ! And it is contended, furthermore, that if he were upon the earth now, he would not find it in his soul to bear witness against the political institutions of this country, though they hold in abject slavery over three millions of those whom he died to save ! Nay, more. It is openly taught by a large majority of those who blasphemously call them- selves his ministers, that if Jesus were here, he would not object to our joining, hand in hand and heart in heart, in political fel- lowship with men who declare that even he would be property, if our laws declared him so ! 26 194 THE PIONEEE. THE TOILERS. ANOHYMOUS. " I saw a widow who was yet young— perhaps forty — but whose form, once ftesh and healthful, had become exactly the reverse. It was now nothing but skin, sinews, bones, and no flesh. She had three sons to work in the mills, and although they toiled incessantly, they could scarcely earn enough to keep the fiends of famine from the door."— Eholibh Faotobv Repobt. Hark ! 'tis the early bell — Awake, my children, awake ! Oh ! would to God another hour The weary ones could take ! But no, it cannot be — Morn brightens in the east. And I must rouse the sleepers From their unbroken rest. Again the bell rings out Upon the morning breeze — And see the toilers rushing forth Like startled human bees — Lilie startled human bees, alas ! The honey of the hive Is often wrung from human hearts That wither as they strive. Up, up, my sons, the lark Ls soaring to the sky— Willie, my joyous little one, Open your laughing eye ! Come kiss your loving mother, Then whistle on your way — Oh ! that your father dear were here To kiss you, too, to-day ! Away, away they speed, To watch with faultless eye Each spindle with its circling thread, And every break supply — To watch within yon upper grave THE PIONEER. 195 From dawn till welcome night, — Grave for the bud and bloom of youth, For all that makes life bright. How rosy once was I ! How smooth my girlish brow ! Health gushed and glowed in every vein : Alas, what am I now ? Kind fortune failed, and then Death took our prop away — Oh ! what a fearful blow was that ! How sorrow-fraught the day ! Five years I toiled with them. And often cheered them on. Rallied them when about to fall. And smiled love's. benison ; But now the faded cheek — The cough — the ceaseless pain — I feel that life is ebbing fast. And yet I ne'er complain. Oh ! no, to Him alone Whose quick ear from on high Bends down to catch the widow's moan, And hear the orphan's cry. My silent prayer I pour. My sorrow I reveal, While — God forgive me for the wrong — From them I all conceal. They know not of the worm That eats my life away — They dream not that their mother Is dying day by day. I would not vainly darken A lot already drear, And pour despair upon their hopes Ere life's green leaves are sere. Oh God ! is it their doom. From year to year the same, 196 THE PIONEER. To toil and toil thus wearily To feed life's fitful flame ? And yet forgive me, Father, For though to them 'tis given Thus bitterly to earn their bread, They will be thine in Heaven ! THE MEDALS. A SIMPLE STORY FOE CHILDREN. " It's too bad that I did n't get a medal," said Caroline Francis to her mother, at the close of one examination day. " I am sure," said she, " I tried hard enough, and deserve one as much as Mary Smith." " But why did your friend Mary get one, then, " said her mother, " and you not ? " " I do n't know, — ^but I suppose it was because I staid away from school one week, and so got a little behind hand ; but I am as good as she is, any day, and the master knows it. I do n't care, tho', I'll never try to get another medal, as long as I live." " But, Caroline," said her mother, " suppose you had the medal — should you be any better, should you know any more than you do now ? " " Why, no, mother," replied Caroline, " I should n't be any better, nor know any mora, that I know of; but then, if I got the medal, other folks would give me the credit for my industry, and my name would be put in the paper, and a great many kind things would be said to me." " Then it is n't simply the medal you want, but the praise of people ; you wish folks should think you a good and smart girl ! You do not wish learning that you may be wise, or virtue that you may be happy ; but you desire them, that you maybe praised. Is n't that it, Caroline ? " " Why no, mother, I love to improve my mind, because it will THE PIONEER. 197 make me useful ; but if I get a medal, I know that I have n't studied in vain, for the ' committee ' are satisfied that I have improved, and then I am encouraged and study harder and harder, and love my school more and more." " But, Caroline," replied her mother, " you say you have studied hard all the past quarter, have been punctual and well- behaved at school, and yet you haven't a medal. Now will not your learning do you just as much good as if you had it, and everybody knew you had studied so faithfully ? " " Certainly, mother, — but then how much better one feels for having the praise of people !" " Ah, that's it," said her mother, " that's it, it makes one feel proud, to be praised. Don't you recollect how you talked about Lydia Field, last year, because she was so proud, ' put on such airs ' as you said, — ^when she got a medal, and her friends were all praising her ? " " Yes mother, but I don't believe I should be so. At any rate I should like to try ! " " Well," said her mother, " I don't know how you would feel, if you had a medal — ^perhaps it would do you good — ^but I am afraid not. That kind of praise which makes people proud, is very dangerous. You should strive for the praise of your own conscience and of God ; . this will make you meek and humble. You should do your duty in school and at home, not because people will praise you, but because it is your duty. You should study, and improve your mind, because it is right, because it will make you better and happier, and not to get a medal ; and then if you do not receive one, your own conscience, — " the voice of God withds yoi;," — ^will tell you that you have done your duty, and if you have not the praise of men, you have won the favor of God. But I cannot stop to talk about it any more now. I wish you would remember what I have said to you. Do your duty faithfully at home and at school, and if you are not praised by others you will receive the approbation of your conscience. But stop a moment, I have an offer to make you.— If you do your 198 THE PIONEER. duty at home, as well as at school, faithfully, and are a good and obedient daughter this quarter, you shall have something more valuable than any medal, and which you will always prize as your life." " What is it, mother ? " " No matter now, my child, you will know at the end of the quarter." " Thank you, my dear mother," said Caroline, " How good you always are ! Whenever I am in a complaining humor, you always make me good natured — ^but never before did you hire me to be good. I thought that was against your principles." •re" TV" TT ^ W TP TT Caroline Francis was on many accounts a good girl. She was industrious, and generally obedient and good natured ; but she was very jealous and envious. Whenever any of her friends were noticed more than she, it made her peevish and ill-natured, and this is jealousy. And if she saw any one smarter or better dressed than she, it made her unhappy, and this is envy. These faults occasioned her mother and her friends much unhappiness. They saw they were injur- ing her character, and, unless early checked, would make her miserable. They labored hard to convince her of the wickedness of such feelings, and make her feel that she never could be good or happy while she indulged them. Her teacher, too, had by precept and example endeavored to enforce upon her mind, the importance of conquering these ene- mies to her peace and happiness. But, hitherto, little had been accomplished. Indeed she seemed to grow more and more envi- ous and jealous every day. With this disposition, it was not strange that Caroline should feel so keenly her disappointment in not obtaining a medal. She seemed to live upon the praise of others. When this was with- held, she was ever unhappy. She had no inward joy and satisfaction. No "well of living waters " in her own mind from which she could freely draw. But let us now return to her. THE PIONEER. 199 When her conversation with her mother was finished, CaroHne felt more at peace with herself. She was convinced for the moment, how foolish it was for her to allow her disappointment in not obtaining the medal to make her unhappy, and she retired that night full of good resolutions. She resolved to do her duty at home and at school, in a faithful manner, that so she might obtain that which her mother had told her she would prize higher than any medal. The next morning she rose bright and early, and studied till breakfast time ; for though it was " vacation," she was determined to devote some time, every day, to study. She went down to breakfast with a pleasant countenance and a bright eye which seemed to say : — " all's well within ! " and with unwonted cheerfulness, said: — "^Good morning, mother! good morning, sis ! " — and then seated herself with them at the table. But a cloud soon passed over her serene countenance. While they were at breakfast a knock was heard at the door. Caroline jumped quick and ran to the door, and presently came back, with a billet for her sister Charlotte. It was an invitation to go that night to a party of her young friends. Caroline heard the billet read and then burst into tears. Her mother inquired the cause of this. She snappingly replied, that " Charlotte was invited every- where, but she was never asked." Now Charlotte was three years older than Caroline, went in older company, and was often invited to places, where her sister was not. Whenever this was the case, it made Caroline cross, — and this time, she showed ill-feeling all day. Whenever Char- lotte said anything about the party, her sister would say some unkind thing, and complain of the neglect which she exper- ienced. She was thus made unhappy all the day by the indul- gence of her envious feelings. Every thing seemed to go wrong with her; and no one received a pleasant look, or a cheerful answer, or a good action from Caroline Francis the livelong day. 200 THE PIONEER. At night her mother called her to her side, and asked her how much she had done that day towards earning that reward which she promised her if she did her duties at home, during the quarter. Caroline blushed, hung down her head, and knew not what to say. She kriew she had been a bad girl, aU day, and had given her good sister and mother much pain. However, after a moment's silence, which her mother did not choose to interrupt, she attempted to excuse herself, and stifle the gentle rebuke of her conscience, by saying : — " Charlotte was invited everywhere, and nobody thought of her." " But my dear," said her mother, " you must recollect that she is older than you, and goes with older girls." " Only three years older, mother, and that ought not to make any difference ; but I don't believe that's the reason she is invited when I am not." " What do you think is the reason, my child ? " " It's because she's handsomer than I, that's the reason. She is n't any better than other folks." " Ah Caroline," said her mother, " you see what your envious feelings have led you to. This is not the first time that they have made you speak ill of the kindest of sisters. You know how good she is. You know how she is loved by everybody for her kindness, and above all, you know how much she has done for you and me. How then, how, Caroline, can you be so cruel as to speak ill of such a sister ? " Caroline was touched. She really loved her sister, though at times she was led by her envious disposition to treat her unkindly — and when her mother rebuked her, the big tears rolled down her cheek, and she felt how ungrateful she had been, to speak unkindly of her dear sister. She laid her head in her mother's lap and wept bitterly, not that she had not gone with Charlotte to the party, not that her sister was loved better than she — oh, no ! — but to think that she possessed feelings that could make her speak unkindly of one who had done so much for the happiness of herself and her mother. THE PIONEER. 201 She asked her mother's forgiveness, and promised — as she had done, alas ! a thousand times hefore — never more to be so wicked." Her mother urged upon her to root out all envious feelings from her heart, and after giving her an affectionate kiss, and urging her to ask God to aid her in her good resolutions, bade her " good night." And ere she laid her head upon the pillow, the repentant girl did fall upon her knees, ask her Father to forgive her sins, and grant her strength to sin no more. But she was not yet cured. Almost every day, her envious and jealous feelings were manifested, and caused her mother and sister much unhappiness. I should have said before that her sister Charlotte was one of the best of girls. She was the joy of her mother ; for she was a faithful daughter, an affectionate sister, an invaluable friend. Her heart overflowed with love to all mankind. She seemed to have the spirit of God in her little heart " without measure." She had often joined with her mother in prayer to God, and asked him to guide the steps of her sister in the path that leadeth unto life, — and in the retirement of her chamber had she poured out her soul, in her behalf. And she not only prayed for her sister, but she strove by pre- cept and example, to lead her in the paths of rectitude. But although Caroline was by no means insensible to the influ- ences of her sister's example, still her besetting sins were so deeply rooted in her nature, that it required something yet more powerful to conquer them. But Caroline was not thoughtless. She was so often rendered unhappy by her envious feelings, so often caused her mother pain by their exercise, that she had fre- quently asked herself, in her cool moments : — " Can I not be a better girl? Can I not mend my character? Must I be a slave to passion ? " — and then would she resolve that she would be better, that she wovM subdue all unholy feelings— but still as 27 202 THE PIONEER. temptations were presented, she too often was ensnared, forgot her good resolutions, and was again the same unhappy girl. One day, however, an incident occurred that wrought a change in her character, which, aided by other circumstances, in the end, , completely destroyed her feelings of jealousy and envy. One day, — the quarter had then about half expired, — a friend of Caroline's sent for her to come and see her* That girl was Maey Smith, — the little girl, you recollect, who received the medal which Caroline expected, and who, Cairoline said, didn't deserve one any more than she. Mary was now very sick. She was to live but a few days on the earth — and then as she said : — " She was going to Heaven." Of this girl, " whom to know, was to love ; " and who was the hope of her parents, the joy of her friends, and the admiration of all, on account of her many good traits of heart and head, — of this little girl who was ever her good friend, Caroline had often spoken unkindly— both of her and to her, and all for what ? because Mary was unkind ? because she had injured her? No, oh no, — but because, being a better girl, Caroline envied her. She knew Mary was better, and beittg aware that she was loved by everybody for her sweet dis- position and humble virtue, it made her jealous, and this was the reason why she treated her so unkindly. But Mary Smith had still continued the friend of Caroline. — She had often shown much kindness to her, and had never noticed the ill treatment she had received. Her way was to •* return good for evil" for, as she used to say, "if this were not best, Jesus had not told her to do so." Mary had sent for Caroline, now that she was on her death bed, for she wished to give her something as a token of remem- brance. Caroline came. For, despite all that she had said against her, she loved Mary. How could she help it ? The good are always loved. We may speak ill of them, our wicked feelings may at times prompt us to say wicked things of them ; but still we love, we must love the good. We cannot help loving those, that truly THE PIONEER. 203 love us, any more than the stubborn earth can resist the genial influences of sun and, rain. I repeat, then, Caroline loved Mary, and it grieved her that she was about to die ; and her eyes filled with tears, and her little heart heaved ■with grief as she stood by the side of her friend, and gazed on her snowy countenance, and met the earnest gaze from that eye, " once so bright, but now so dim." After talking some time with Caroline about her friends, and the happy times they had spent together, Mary said : — "Caroline, I have something which I wish to give you, and I desire that you should keep it as a remembrance of me. Take it. When you look at it remember me. Let it call to mind the many pleas- ant hours we have spent at school together." — She paused a moment, then brushed aside the tear that unbidden stood in her eye, raised her wasted form in the bed, and put the, token round Caroline's neck and kissed her.^ — For a moment both were silent, — and then Caroline, raising her head from the bed, which was moist with her tears, thanked Miary for her gift. " It has caused me," she said, " this medal, (for this it was that Mary gave her,) has caused me, in times past, much pain, and gives me yet more now. If you had not been in , school, I should have received it before. But you were there, you deserved it, and it was rightly yours. But, Mary, if you knew how many unkind things I said of you because you received it, I fear you would never forgive me." " Fear not, fear not," said Mary, " I forgive you with my whole heart. I trust you deserve the medal as much as I, — you tried hard to get it,^and when you were so much disappointed, it is not strange you should say some things for which you should afterwards be sorry. But one thing permit me to add, dear Car- oline, although the medal made me feel happy when I received it, still I can truly say that the happiness lasted me but a short time. I thought how many better girls than I there were in school, and I asked myself whether they must not envy me, and whether I should not be happier if one of them had it. And I 204 THE PIONEER. thought I should ; for the knowledge which I got at school is a sufBcient reward ; and I do not like to he envied. I wish there were no medals given out, for it would save a great many un- pleasant feelings, unkind thoughts, and harsh words, and I do n't think it does any one good to get a medal. It makes people proud. We ought to he willing to study because it will make us more useful, andenlarge the mind, and not to get a medal, and have our names in the paper. And now, while on my death- bed," she added, " I can truly say, Ifeel that no one's praise is so sweet, and no one's censure so hard to bear, as the praise and cen- sure of that monitor within — the conscience. Strive then, my dear Caroline, strive to satisfy that, — and if you succeed, the censure of others will not pain you, and their praise will be rightly esteemed. But I must stop. The Doctor forbids my talking much. Excuse my saying what I have, but think of it when I have gone, — and receive it as from a dear friend." Caroline would have staid longer, but she felt that she ought to leave Mary, who appeared to be growing weak. She sobbed a " Farewell ! " as she left the room ; and as she opened the door, she heard Mary respond, " Farewell ! " and add, as a heavenly smile lit up her countenance — " we meet in heaven." And, in a few days, ■ the spoiler set his seal of silence. But there beamed a smile so fixed and holy from that marble brow, Death gazed and left it there — he dared not seal The signet ring of heaven." ■JF tP tF "tP tF "7? w tF But we must draw our story to an end. Examination day at last came round again. At its close Ca- roline came home with a blue ribbon round her neck. She ran to her mother and told her she had got the medal, and as she spoke of it, tears suffused her bright eyes. " Why do you weep ? " asked her motKer. "I was thinking," replied Caroline, " of Mary Smith," and the name of this pure one caused her mother's eyes also to moisten. THE PIONEER. 205 and they mingled their tears. After a few moments' silence, Ca- roline said : — " Mother I am glad I received this medal to dajr, be- cause it reminds me of Mary, and it calls to mind and strengthens my good resolutions. It speaks to me of what I have already done to conquer my envious disposition ; and it tells me of how much I have to do. It impresses, if possible, the words of Mary Smith deeper upon my mind. And, oh ! how thankful ought I to be, mother, that I had so many kind friends, and especially such a good mother, to show me my errors." " My child," said her mother, " I am most grateful that you have so improved your character, and when I reflect that Mary Smith was the chief instrument of your reform, I cannot think of her without my eyes filling with tears of gratitude and joy, and my willing heart sending up a prayer to heaven. I am glad, my child, that you received the medal this quarter. It will do you good. Not by making you proud, but by reminding you of those things whidi it is so well to remember. You can put it with Mary Smith's ; and together, how many hallowing associations will they call to mind ! " " And Bow^ another," said Caroline, " have I earned the valu- able reward which I was to have for doing my duties at home, this quarter ? I ask no reward, if I have. I already have an inexpressible joy in my own heart, which is reward enough for my humble merits. All the medals in the world would not afford so much pleasure. But, mother, have I earned the reward ? " " You have, my child, and have got it. You will always have it. You will bear it with you to the grave. It will ever be an ornament, brighter than the diamond, of more value than many precious stones, and which you cannot part with. That reward is a GOOD CONSCIENCE." 206 THE PIONEER. THE BARD. BY ALONZO MWIS. The three primary privileges of the bards. Maintenance wherever they go ; That no unsheathed weapon be borne in their'prescnce And that their testimony be preferred to all others. ThIADS of BlRDISM. 0, would the days were come again, The brave old days of ancient time : When men, uncursed by lust of gain, Looked kindly on the poet's rhyme ! When king and peasant, prince and peer. Confessed the minstrel's mighty sway ; When men could worth and mind revere. The mind that led up virtue's way. The dagger's blade, the flashing sword. Were sheathed if but the bard came by ; And haughty look and angry word. Grew calm and soft as snminer's sky ! The mighty ocean heaves and swells Less proudly than the poet's heart ; Withiti his breast a beauty d-wells/ In which no selfish thought has part ! He sleeps, and on his waking mind A vision full of glory beams ; Such as of old had power to bind The gifted Hebrew's holy dreams ! The mighty dead, the good and wise Of ages past, converse with him ^ And light, is in his lofty skies, When all, the lower world is dim ! The secret halls of paradise, , On his blessed sight are opened wide ; And all in truth's domain that lies. Is viewed as in some crystal tide ! 0, could the poet's thoughts prevail, Would error sway the hearts of men ? No — falsehood's deadly reign would fail. And all be truth and love again ! THE PIONEER. 207 OUR CAUSE. Ye who have not enlisted in the temperance ranks, who look idly on while our great reform " Has grasped the •world by either pole To shake it to its centre ; " we call upon you to unloose your folded arms and embrace our cause. "We pray you " Come over and help us." Above all assume not to look dov«i upon us. You are solemnly bound to give your influence to the cause. We care not how high your , station in life ; you cannot soar above principle. You cannot go beyond accountability. You cannot mount so high, as not to see all around you, the good influences of this cause. Turn which way you will, its spirit is about you. You cannot shut your ear to its voice ; nor your heart to its influence. Ten thousand hearts are this moment swelling with gratitude for its good work. Ten thousand homes, but yesterday the abodes of misery and sin, are now fountains of happiness. Where yesterday were heard curses and groans, to-day go up thanksgiving and praise. We seem to hear the beating pf happy hearts. The sweet voices of children which once were silenced by an imbruted father, now peal forth in merry shouts, to . gladden the heart, and recall the scenes of childhood. The face of the wife which but now was furrowed with tears, and pale with sorrow, to-day is radiant with joy. '.' Almost she fears to think how glad she is." Her husband is a new man. They live a new life. They are rich in the wealth of affection. Life ha| a new zest. Home has a new meaning. The dove of Peace has rested on their dwelling. Na- ture herself comes forth to give them joy. The air of heaven is more invigorating. The vernal showers are more refreshing. The flowers are more fragrant. The sunshine is brighter. The stars are more lovely, and the smile of the moon more serene. The song of the birds has a new meaning. The labor of the day brings no fatigue. The repose of the night is sweeter. They were dead and are alive again, were lost and are found. 208 THE PIONEER. THOUGHTS ON PAETING. Oh, what is life but one duU round, Of parting tears and sad adieus. Of flowers just bursting from the ground, For us to cherish, love, then lose. Yet while those beauteous flowers we mourn, The tears which on their grave we shed, Shall cause, ere many months have flown, Fresh flowers to blpssom o'er their bed. So while we mourn the loss of hours, Which on the wings of love have flown. They'll cast their seeds like dying flowers. And we shall reap what they have sown. The viewless wind may bear away. The spirit of the dying flower, To dwell where kinder breezes play, Or bloom in some more beauteous bower;— And so beyond earth's narrow sphere Will these blest hoiu^ their life renew, Where never falls the parting tear, And life is fresh as morning dew. THE END. A^tJ BEN ADEEM. ^ , BY tllfoH HtTNT. Abos Ben Aim&t (may his tkjbe isckease !) ;1 Awoke, ome juig-bt, moM adees I)jb|*m of jeacb, V'i^^&XtD SAW WITHHT TJEtE MOOsil&aT fil HIS; ROOM, * •S^Slm&, IT KICH iND USS A HL* IH BI,'PJtt|I, An Ak&ei. wiimw& is a book of odld ; — ' EZCEEDIKS' fEACE HAS KASE BeN AdBEDI BOLD, And OT'jtSSB kresesce jw the eoom d; saidi-* "What weitest TSon?" Tb?b Visio* kaised.iss bead, And, with li: -{.ook made op aij. sweet agcokd, AsSWSr'd i'Tt**-"^ ifAMES of THOSE WHO tOTE THE L0E»."- "Akd is sam-eimf" said Aboit. "Nat ?»ot so," EePIIED the AnajBI.. ABOH SEIISB -MOBE LCJtlf)* , ' But oHESBLy stui., ahb said: — "I pbat,^hee then, Wkitb me as ohe tbla* mves his fellow ifeN. " The AjjajEL Wrote akd vaWshed. Tbe meit wieHi It CAKE ASAIM WITH A sheat wakeking li^it, Am showed the naues wifoii love of Qod bad blessed, AsiD Lo ! Ben A.nE|»:'s hahe tM) ali. the best !