Part 21

A Wish.

"Could I embody and unbosom now, That which is most within me;--could I wreak My thoughts upon expression, and thus throw Soul, heart, mind, passions, feelings strong or weak, All that I would have sought, and all I seek, Bear, know, and feel, and breathe,--into one word, And that one word were lightning"--

I would speak it, not to crush the oppressor, but to melt the chains of slave and master, so that both should go free.

NEW YORK, November 8th, 1853.

A Dialogue.

SCENE.--A BREAKFAST TABLE.

MRS. GOODMAN, a widow. FRANK GOODMAN, her son. MR. FREEMAN, a Southern gentleman, brother to Mrs. Goodman. MR. DRYMAN, a boarder.

MR. FREEMAN. (Sipping his coffee and looking over the morning paper) reads--

"The performance of Uncle Tom's Cabin attracts to the theatre very unusual audiences. In the "genteel row" last evening, we observed the strictest religionists of the day, not excepting puritanic Presbyterians, and the sober disciples of Wesley and Fox. For ourselves, we must candidly confess we have never witnessed such a play upon all the emotions of which humanity is susceptible. Mrs. Stowe, however unworthy the name of Patriot, is at least entitled to the credit of seizing the great thought of the age, and embodying it in such a form as to make it presentable to every order of mind and every class of society. She says, in effect, to Legislators, let me furnish your amusements, and I care not who makes your laws."

* * * * *

Politicians would do well to look to this--(laying down the paper and speaking in a tone of impatience)--so, so, Fanaticism is leading to its legitimate results. Uncle Tom in our parlors, Uncle Tom in our pulpits, and Uncle Tom in our plays.

Mr. Dryman. Truly "he eateth with publicans and sinners."

Mr. F. (Not noticing Mr. D's remark.) One would think this last appropriation of the vaunted hero would be sufficient to convince the most radical of the demoralizing influence of these publications.

Frank. (Modestly.) How differently people judge. Why, last evening, when I saw crowds of the hardened and dissipated shedding tears of honest sympathy, when Uncle Tom and Eva sang,

"I see a band of spirits bright, And conquering palms they bear"--

I felt that the moral sentiment was asserting its supremacy even in places of amusement.

Mr. F. Worse and worse, my nephew and namesake a theatre-goer.

Mr. D. (In an under tone.) Namesake! "that's the unkindest cut of all."

Frank. Not exactly a theatre-goer, uncle, though I confess I might be, were the performance always as excellent as last evening.

Mrs. Goodman. Frank, my son, I hope thee will not attempt to drink from a dirty pool because a pure stream flows into it.

Frank. But the rank and file of Democracy drank deep libations to Liberty there, mother.

Mr. D. (Passing his cup.) "Drink deep or taste not of the Pierian spring."

Mr. F. (Sarcastically.) Take care, you'll be found using the products of slave labor!

Frank. (Jocosely.)

"Think how many backs have smarted, For the sweets," &c.

Take a bit of toast, Mr. Dryman, our northern products are perfectly innocent, you know?

Mr. D. (Helping himself bountifully.) "Ask no questions for conscience's sake."

Mr. F. The practice of you Northerners is consistent with your professions.