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^ 'r ^ • ? ' I T" ^^^ JJ T. I7 TI T: PUBLISHED BT W I L L I A M a B D K L E I « H. T E R M S . Two iloixAKs m Aiivua—ftoM wUA n f tj CMMB will be daducMd if paid tukOr m adraoM. Two doUala to City Subwriben, wlio laeaiv* tiw r^per bjr the Cwiior. Sinfoe oopiea, FOOK CCHM. No diffMooe w £ b« paid opoo EndnBgw, Duly •r Waekly. No f f f e r dnoooiuBea td; mil anvMges a n |Nid, . . at the ootkn of the Publisher. A Letten aas ConHBunioa Uons unut M ttd* •RSMd to the Publiriier, 0 7 PMt P o ^ Con^pondents will be pannitted to tpeak their •WB aern'menli (however wideiy differing from oun) upon their own recponaibility—on these oonditions, that their aatiage neither decency, good English, nor pood taate, and give their namee to the I^blisher. This last we mqaire far oar own satisfactio»—not %r the public. TERMS OF ADVEETISIWG. AtfTCBTiBBiucirTa will be inserted sC lha fcUow- •H rates: For «ae aquaie, or 80 linea, three weeks, $1 00 I «• Cimtinuance each inaertimi, 90 ( • T W UMS or hair aqnaie. thrsa wedca, 83 I * CwitiMiance each iaaettion, 10 *• OMB aqoare a yaar, • 10 00 ** ON ataaie a yaar with pii*ihni of w ia three waalta. AN ANTI-SLAVERY c P B O B M I A l . . . » R i ] i c n » i . B s — P u m p o s K s . FAM] LY NEWSPAPER The dHABTH OA'','wodU W r a w n byiiwu FAIJC'TTK'CHAa'm or « a S m t r a Ami tba i mp of Ty^-ny. ft is a Fna Papw,—not tkeiaion a cliiiniiel for all babble—bat what it would say, it I Treely. It will ailnd in defense'of all right, hdwev^ lowly and downtrodden, and throw rel«ike inlii the fsce of all wrong, whether in parr>Ie aati uniwlciolh, or in rags and squalor. Yet, thoogh 4 liira ihe sin, it will not hau tha sinner, it wiA Iw nliiefly daroled to Uia eniase of LIBSBTT, ail (uniting indsy«fideBt political action against Slav* ry, but it wii; wear the collar of no Party. It win aim to make whole, not demolish GoTemment,—la wiest iU| scr||tre from th« ItavLs of m>pnpanra. mot lu lireoh it. It would nut ]iut a fiFe.or«nd ta Chatst Mihl State, to purify lliem,—but spare the tempba »liile it nwts the rennin that are thronging them. LITKTATDBC, of a liearty, manly sort, will ha«a ifa place here, with all that tends t^iward hunnn » l e «« .1 ion. We shall seek not to^divorro the spirit of Pro- ^iLiis from the sense orBeauty—but rather aim la will Refinement to Reform—not forgetting, howavar, tu use tha siwuige when high-handed wiehedwaa shall demand it. Pasaing Events and fixed Piinai pli«, the transient News, and the eternal Jjaws, shall find a reconl in our Paper; and eTcrythins which Imaest endeavor, good will and some «xperieiiee ran do, win be attempted, to make It welcoma to ita friends, a blessing to Hunaai^rMd to oaiselvaa i. of ankanaatliralilMed. NEW SEllIES. HARTFORD, CONN., THBISDAY, APRIL 27, 1848. From die K<in|Nreil- T O T H E FRENCH REVOLUTIONISTS BT HEKET R. TRACT. A r e ! trample on that prostrate throne, And bow like si es no lonf!er; Your tyrant ft«m his nest hatli flown, And Liberty grows stronger. Strike boldly for yonr freedtan, n o w - Let nothing check or blind you; Furrow the soil—drive on the plow, Kor look in fear behind you. Million*, in Europe, on you bend Tbcir eyes with anxious yeaming; Millions, their pdling chains to rend In b l o o ^ atrife, a n burning. Oh, hear y e not the exultant cry, Of our owu eagle, rising Against the arches of Uie sky. At Freedom's new baptiring? How proudly soars he, while with fear Old Europe's kings are quaking; Earth hath no music for hit ea'. Like that of fetters breaking. With quivering wings and fiery glance, With olden memories glowing, He looks forth to his brother France, Where martyrs' blood is flow jig. He waits to see you proudly march. With freedom on your banners— And hear, from the o'erhanging arch. Echo your loud hosannas. Then rise before the expectant world. All regal power defying; While despots, from their thrones are burled. And Tyranny is dying. March 28th. For the Charter Oak. § T A T E S O V E R E I G N T Y. The object of the present writer is, in-formation relative to the true meaning of the phrase 'State Sovereignty.' The terms are familiarily used by one statesman, as if tliey had been well defined and genera-lly understood; whereas it is certainly otherw ise. It cannot have escaped obser-vation, that tliis expression has a mean-ing in South Carolina which has rarely been given to it in Kew EngUmd. Or if, in New England, a loose meaning has been yielded, in accommodation to South-em views, still, it is not a given point that tliis meaning is not inadmissible, and dan-gerous in its tendency. It is believed that a wrong principle in regard to State Sov-ereignty prevails, which, if carried out, would lay the foundation of Nullification in every State, whenever the Gkneral Government shall exercise power over the States, however just, however called for, by the public good, unless specifically de-jmed by the Constitution. But this would place enacted laws and Constitutions above right and the law of Nalure, and subvert the only true foundation of civil govern-ment. Must there not be in the naltire of human society a reason or fmndation of human government, existing indejiend-ently of all human volition or contract ? If not, we desiie to know, whence are human governments, and who has given them their authority ? But if it be admit-ted that there is, in the nature of things as the Author of nature has constituted it, a rcamm for human government, a lex na-tuT< p, a law of immutable right or justice to which men must submit if they would be happy, then we have a basis of author, itg sanctioned by our reason and our Cre-ator. And for information we ask, can their be any other foundation for sover-eignty, either State or General ? Is not all human government founded upon the matter of fact, that, when human beings arc located in communities, their purest and best interests cannot be secured with-out reoognissing general rules of natural justice to which all should submit T And thus submitting, does not give or grant this superior claims, but only recognizes and acLiowledges its independent, divine existence. Consequently, when human beings in community, form a general gov-ernment or constitution, we should think it an unhappy <use of terms, to say tli^ they had ^granted' or given to tlie consti-tution or its representatives the Congress, ccrtain general powers. No. These supposed |towers exist in the nature of human society, independent of the will of man. And the framers of a constitution do not, by their instrument, create the laws of riglit, but only explicitly express them in human language to be read by all, and not properly adopted, but yielded to in obedience to the designs of their Crea-tor. It is only thus, as it appears to the writer, tliat it can be said, ' The powers that be, are ordained of God.* And then it woulit follow thai, if the framers of our Constitution, had happen-ed to discover these supreme laws of na-ture, and had written them in plain lan-guage, excepting one which had unaccoun-tably been overlooked and not written, we say it would follow that this omitted one would also have autliority over the peo-ple, and bind them, if not as strongly, yet as truly, as those written. F«r the au-thority of the written, existed before writ-ten, depending upon the Creator and not npon the creature. The laic of naturt, whether written in our ConsUtution or not, forbids a father to abuse a child, a hus-band a wife. And if there were no other I more immediate law written to protect the suffering in such a case, the general Constitution must necessarily be interpret-ed so as to grant the protection which nat-ural jostice demanded. And so of slaves or any other suffering dass of men. The laws of nature are supreme, and demand that the innocent should be protected; and this is the business of human govern-ments. There can be no nullifying of the laws of nature. Sovereignty has its ori-gin in nature; and is divine. No created being or beings have any right to soveign-ty other than this. State sovereignty, if it mean not this, is a misnomer. Sover-eignty is from above, binding all rational beings to the throne of Right. It is not a gathering from the mass of hu-man things, but an unchangeable authori-ty from the Author of nature binding all human beings. If the above remarks arc just, a natu-ral inference is that State sovereignty can have no superiority over the Geueral sov-ereignty of the Union. For we have shown that the origin of human govern-ment must be in the laws of right—thaf is, supposing a large community or country to exist, the highest interest«a of the whole would demand a general gov-ernment, constitution or laws which must be supreme and authoritative over the whole, because the public good is greater than individual good, (r^ral sovereign-ty, therefore, originating from the claims of the public good and not from any sup-posed grant of power made by private in-dividu^ s or states, is higher in its author-ity and prior in its claims to any supposed State sovereignty. It is true we hear of the attribute of (State sovereignty; but we wish explicitly to be inform^ whence do the .States de-rive a sovereignty higher than a larger community whose interests are greater, can derive ? From the people ? Whence do the people derive it, if ^ey derive it at all ? Suppose but one man on earth: he would have no such sovereignty.— Suppose two, and you have a society; and now above each, and independent of each, there exists a law requiring each to do to the other as he would that the other should do to him. Suppose now two hundred; and this law of right remains—not some-thing which they have created or enacted, but something which tlie Author of nature has created, and to which men are to yield obedience. If right is not the ba-sis of a government, or oi a constitution, or of a law, it has none. Could our con-stitution be proved to be based not in right, he who pit>ved it would annihilate it. Moral right alone binds rational be-ings. If we are thus far correct in our views, the main position of Gen. Cass, on the Proviso Bill, cannot be correct. He says if a restriction was to be put upon the Territories Relative to slavery, "the well known attributes of sovereignty, recog-nized by us as belonging to the State Governments, would sweep before them any such barrier, and would leave the people to expiess and exert their will at pleasure." He evidently means that the General Government can, in no case not clearly specified in the constitution, as-sume or possess a sovereignty which a State sovereignty might not sweep before it as the dust. This is a favorite idea at the South, and especially with the illus-trious stifte^man of (touth Carolina.-— Gen. Cass, speaking of the Territories, says, "some of their rights are inchoate, and they do not possess the peculiar attri-butes of sovereignty" Why not? Is that attribute to be conferred upon them by Congress when they are admitted into tlie Union ? No. State sovereignty is some-thing inherent—something not con/erred by the General Government. So the South say. H7/y, then, do not the Terri-tories "possess the peculiar attributes of sovereignty?" On Southern principles no man can tell. But on the prindples above laid down by ourselves, neither States nor Territo-ries have the sovereignty constantly as-sumed at the South, and which leads to constant contention with the General Gov-ernment and to final rebellion. But the General Government, supposing it to be founded in the natural laws of right, is bound to promote the public good, altho' in some possible cases at the expense of Stale rights no less tlian of individiud rights. If, in any such case, a State has a right to object to the provisions of the General Government, and to oppose its acts by throwing itself back upon "its pe-culiar'aUributes of sovereignty," then we do not see why, on the same principle, a county in a State may not also rise against the sovereignty of the State and claim, in the true spirit of nullification, that they have never surrendered their sovereignty to the State, and never will. They will rather sacrifice their lives in the defence of their natural rights, than yield the in-alienable attribute of sovereignty. On this principle you might next expect to hear the individual, assuming the right of judging his own case, saying, " I will not submit to any State, or county, or town laws that infringe upon my rights or in-terests; for I have never surrendered, nor never shall surrender, my attribute of sovereignty. It were base to do i t" Does it not then appear that there is a blinding magic in the prevailing use of Ae term State sovereign^ ? And if an individual, or the inhabitants of a county, are bound to submit to the laws of a State, does it not follow, from the same or similar reasons, that a State, as a part of the Union, is bound to submit to the laws of the General Gk>vemment as supreme ? The reason of the dium in both cases is, that sovereignty comes from above and not from below; i. e. it is the result of the fact that human beings have found that they must be governed by an authority higher and more immutable than them-selves. Such authority is found in (not given to) a Constitution, meaning by such an instrument the laws of nature embod* ied and published. Our Constitution em-bodies the laws of justice or right as they exist, (not by the agreement of the States, but) in the constitution of human society. These are supreme and sove-reign. None other can be. No State sovereignty can sweep them away. Are we right in this ? If not, we wish to be informed in what respects we are wrong. We hope to elicit from the more intelli-gent the light which this subject is capa-ble of shedding. If we are right, one of the main positions in Southern policy gives way. It is by thfa "peculiar attri-bute of sovereignty" (and I confess it is peculiar) that the Southern statesmen de-fend themselves against the just claims of the country in favor of liberty; as if there were no law of right, or nature, or justice, or public good, that could possibly have the least claim to obedience, if not definitely written out in the Constitution. No Constitution do they allow even, tho' made by the wisdom of the world, which would infringe upon their favorite institu-tion of slavery. We are aware that it is often assumed that the Constitution, and especially Con-gress, have no powers, except those which have been granted, or surrendered by the States. This is more specious than sound. It is not true. A constitution and gov-ernment have all the powers that the la/ws of nalure on which they are based, give them. They may, or may not, all be written and defined. Some general laws cannot define all that will come un-der them; and they must be left to exposi-tion. In forming our general government, the delegates came together, not to give and grant general powers, but to search out what powers the Creator, by making men what they are, had ordained fur the good of man. The question was not, what would benefit a state, or an individ-ual, so much as what would benefit the Union. The surrender made by each State, if any were made, was mainly a surrender to the idea, that the general good must prevail against private good.— And when the States adopted the Consti-tution, as intelligent men, they could not have supposed, that it was a mere instru-ment, defining a few powers, which the States were pleased to give away. We repudiate the idea. No. It was an in-strument drawn up by the sages of the world, containing the elementary princi-ples of a general government, as they had been derived from a thorough investi-gation of the laws of civil and moral right, in all ages. These elementary principles were not given by the States, but by the Creator of Stales. The States were, indeed, called upon to adopt the Constitution; but, by doing this, they only yieWed to the law of right. .They were bound to do it, unless they could show that it violated some natural law. They were bound, in nature, and by circum. stance,to place over themselves a cupreme government. Indeed, if they gave away any thing in this act, it was their State sovereignty. It will never again be theirs. Are we right? ENauiRER. PRESENTIMENTS. I have heard of several cases of people hurrying home from a presentiment of fire; and Mr. M. Calderwood was oncc, when absent from home, wized with such an anxiety about his family, that, without being able in any way to account for it, he felt himself impelled to fly to them and remove them from the house they were inhabiting; one wing of which fell down immediately afterwards. No notion of such a misfortune had ever before occur-red to him, nor was there any reason whatever to expect it; the accident orig-inating from some defect in the foundation. A circumstance exactly similar to this, is related by Stilling of Professor Bohm, teacher of mathematics at Marburg; who being one evening in. company, was sud-denly seized with a conviction that he ought to go home. As, however, he was very comfortably taking tea, and had no-thing to do at home, he resisted the ad-monition ; but it returned with such force, that at length he was obliged to yield.— On reaching his house, he found every-thing as he had left i t ; but he now felt himself urged to remove his bed from the comer in which it stood to another: but, as it had always stood there, he resisted this impulsion also. However, the resist-ance was vain; absurd as it seemed, he felt he must do it; BO he summoned the maid, and, with her aid, drew the bed to the other side of the room; after which he felt quite at ease, and retumed to spend the rest of the evening with his friends. At ten o'clock the party broke up, and he retired home, and went to bed aind to sleep. In the middle of the night he was awakened by a lond crash, and on look-ing out, he saw that a I n e beam bad fal-len, bringing part of tUB cefling with it, and was lying exactly on the spot his bed had occupied. One of Uie most remarka-ble cases of presentiment I ^ow, is that which occurred not very long since on board cne of her majesty's ships, when lying off Portsmouth. The officers being one day at the mess table, a young Lieu-tenant P. suddenly laid down his knife and fork, pushed away his plate, and turn-ed extremely pale. He then rose from the table, covering his face with his hands, and retired from the-room. The presi-dent of the mess, supposing him to be ill, sent one of the youngmen to enquire what was the matter. At first Mr. P. was un-willwg to speak: but, on being pressing, he confessed that he had been seized by a sudden and irresistible impression that a brother he had then in India was dead. 'He died,' said he, 'on the 12th of August, at six o'clock; I am perfectly certain of it.' No arguments C(^ld overthrow this conviction, which, in due course of post, was verified to the letter. The young man had died at Camipore at the precise period mentioned.—Mrs. Growers Night Side of Nature. Erom the Liberty Bell. C H A R I T Y B O W E R Y. BY L . V . CHILD. The following story was told me by an aged colored woman in ^ew York. I shall endeavor to relate it precisely in her own words, so oft repeated, that they are tolerably well impressed on my memory. Some confusion of names, dutes, and inci-dents, I may naturally make. I profess only to give 'the pith and marrow' of Charity's story, deprived of the high dra. matic effect it received from her swelling emotions, earnest looks and changing tones. 'I am about sixty-five years old. I was born on an estate called Pembroke, about three miles from Edenton, N. Caro-lina. My master wa«* very kind to his slaves. If an overseer whipped them, he turned him away. He used to whip them himself, sometimes, with hickory switch-es as large as my little finger. My moth-er suckled all his children. She was reckoned a very good servant, and our mistress made it a point to give one of my mother's children to each of hers. I fell to the lot of Elizabeth, her second daugh-ter. It was my business to wait upon her. She was all the same as a mother to poor Charity. If Charity wanted to learn to spin, she lot her learn; if Charity wanted to learn to knit, she let her learn; it Charity wanted to weave, she let her learn. I had a wedding when 1 was mar-ried; for mistress didn't like to have her people take up with another, without any minister to marry them. When my dear good mistress died, she charged her child-ren never to separate me and my husband; 'for,' said she, 'if ever there was a match made in heaven, it was Charity and her husband.' My husband was a nice, good man; and mistress knew we set stores by one another. Her children promised her they never would separate me from my husband and children. Indeed, they used to tell me they would never sell me at all; and I am sure they meant what they said. But my young master got into trouble.— He used to come home and sit leaning his head upon his hand by the hour together, without speaking to anybody. I see some-thing was the matter; and I begged of him to tell me what made him look so wor-ried. He told me he owed seventeen hun-dred dollars that he could not pay; and he was afraid he would have to go to prison. 1 begged him to sell me and my children, rather than go to jail. I see the tears come in his eyes. '1 don't know. Chari-ty,' said he; 'I'll see what can be done.— One thing you may feel easy about: I will never separate you Trom your husband and children, let what will come.' 'Two o^ three days after, he come to me, and says he, 'Charity, how should you like to be sold to Mr. McKinley?' I told him 1 would rather be sold to him than to anybody else, because my husband belonged to him. My husband was a nice, good man, and we set stores by one another. Mr. McKinley agreed to buy us; and so I and my children went there to live. He was a kind master; hut as for mistress McKinley—she was a divil! Mr. McKinley died a few years after he bought us; and in his will be gave me and my husband free; but I never knowed any-thing about it for years afterward. I don't know how they managed it. My poor husband died, and never knowed that he was free. But it's all the same now. He's among the ransomed' He used to say— 'Thank God, it's only a little way home ; I shall soon be with Jesus.' Oh ! he had a fine old Christian heart.' Here the old woman sighed deeply,and remained silent for a moment, while her right hand rose and fell upon her lap, as if her thoughts were mournfully busy.— At last she resumed: 'Sixteen children Ive had, first and last; and twelve I've nursed for mistress. From the time my first baby was born, I always set my heart upon buying freedom for some of my children. 1 thought it was of more consequence to them than to me: for I was old and used to being a slave. But mistress McKinley wouldn't let me have my chiMren. One after another—one af-ter another—she sold 'em away from me. O, how many times that woman brdce my heart!' Here her voice choked, and the tears began to flow. She wiped them quickly with the corner of her apron, and contin-ued: *I tried every way 1 could to lay up a copper, to buy my children, but I found it pretty hard; for mistress kept me to work all of the time. It was 'Charity! Charity! Charity!' from morning till night. 'Char-ity do this,' and 'Charity do that.' 'I used to do the washings of the fami-ly, and large washings ihey were. The public road run right by my little hut, and I thought to myselfj while I stood there at the wash-tub, I might just as well as not be earning something to buy my child-ren. So I set up a little oyster-board:— and when anybody came along that want-ed a few oysters and a cracker, I left my wash-tub and waited upon him. When I got a little money laid up, I went to my mistress,and tried to buy one of my child-ren. She knew not how long my heart had been set upon it, and how hard I had worked for it. But she wouldn't let me have one! So I went to work again: and I set up late o'night, in hopes I could earn enough to tempt her. When I had two hundred dollars, I went to her again: but she thought she could find a better market, and she wouldn't let me have one. At last, what do you think that woman did ? She sold me and five of my children to the speculators.' After a short pause, her face again brightened up, and her voice suddenly changed to a gay and sprightly tone. 'Surely, ma'am, there's always some good comes of being kind to folks.— While I kept my oyster-board, there was a thin, peak^ looking man used to buy of me. Sometimes he would say, 'Aunt Charity, (he always cal'ed mo Aunt Charity.) j;ou must fix me up a little mess, for I feel poorly to-day. 1 always-made something good for him; and if ho didn't happen to have any change, I al-ways trusted hfm. He liked my messes, mighty well. Now who do you think that should turn out to be, but the very specu-lator that bought me! He come to me, and says he, 'Aunt Charity, (he always called me .^iint Charity,) you've been've-ry good to me, and fixed tne up many a nice little mess, w hen I've been poorly;— and now you shall have your freedom for it; and I'll give you your youngest child.' That was very kind, said I ; but I wish he had given you ail of them. With alio'.iof great simplicity, and in tones of expostulation, the slave-mother replied, 'Oh, he couldn't afford that^ you know.' 'Well,'continued she, 'after that,I con-cluded I'd come to the Free States. But mistress McKinley had one child of mine; a boy about twelve years old. I had al-ways set my heart upon buying Richard. He was the image of his father; and my husbaud was a nice, good man; and we set stores by oop another. Besides,I was always uneasy Tn my mind about Richard. He was a spirity lad; and I knew it was hard for him to be a slave. Many a time I've said to him,- 'Richard, let what will happen, never lift your hand against your master.' 'But I knew it would always be hard work for him to bring his mind to he a slave. I carried all my money to my mis-tress, and told her I had more due to roe ; and if all of it wasn't enough to buy my poor boy, I'd work hard, and send her all my earnings, till she said I had paid enough. Sheibietr she could trust me.— She knew Charity always kept her word. But she was a hard-hearted woman. She wouldn't let me have my boy. With a heavy heart, I went to work to earn moro, in hopes I might one day be able to buy him. To be sure, I didn't get much more time than I did when I was a slave; for mistress .was always calling upon me,aiid 1 didn't like to disoblige her. I wanted to keep the right side of her, in hopes she'd let me have my boy. One day she scat me of an errand. I had to waifsome time. When I come back, mistress was counting a heap of bills in her lap. She was a rich woman—she rolled in gold. My'little girl stood behind her chair; and as mistress counted the money—ten dol-lars— twenty dollars—fifty dollars—I see that she kepi crying. 1 thought may be mistress had struck her. But I see the tears keep rolling down her cheeks all the time, I went up to her, and whispered, '\Yhat's the matter?' She pointed to mistress' lap, and said, 'Brodcr's money! Broder's money!' Oh, then I understood it all! I said to mistre.ss McKinley, '//ape you sold my boy?' Without looking up from couning her money, she drawled out, 'Yes, Charity; and I got a great price for him!' [Here the colored woman imitated to perfection, the languid, indolent tones common to Southern ladies.] 'Oh, my heart was too full! She had sent me away on an errand, because she didn't want to be troubled with our cries. I hadn't any chance to see my poor boy. I shall never see him again in this world. My heart felt as if it was under a great load of lead. I couldn't speak a word to reproach her. I never reproached her from that day to this. As I went out of the room, I lifted up my hands, and all I could say was, 'Mistress, how could yoa doit?' The poor creature's voice had grown more and more tremulous, as she pro-ceeded, and was at length stifled with sobs. In a fow moments, she resumed hersto-" ry: 'When my boy was gone, I thought I might sure enough as well go to the Free States. But mistress McKinley had a little grandson of mine. His mothcrdicd when he was born. I thought it would be some comfort to me if I could buy lit-tle orphan Sammy. So I carricd all ihe money I had to mistress again, and asked her if she would let me buy my grand, son. But she wouldn't let me have him. Then I had nothing more to wait for; so I come bn to the Free Slates. Here I have taken in washing, and my daughter is smart at her needle, and we get a very comfortable living.' Do you ever hear from your children? said I. 'Yes, ma'am I hear from one of them. Mistress McKinley sold one to a lady that comes to the North every summer; and she brings my daughter with her.' *Don't she know that it is a good chance to take her freedom, when she comes to the North?' said I. 'To be sure she knows that,^ replied Charity, with significant emphasis. 'But my daughter is pious. She's member of achurch. Her mistress knows stie wouldn't tell a lie for her right hand. She makes her promise on the Bible, that she won't try to run away, and that she will go back to the South with her; and so, ma'am, for her honor and her Christianity's sake, she goes back into slavery.' 'Is her mistress kind to her?' 'Yes, ma'am; but then every one likes to be free. Her mistress is very kind. She says I may buy her for four hundred Hollars; and that's a low price for her— two hundred paid down, and the rest as we can earn it. Kitly and I are trying to lay up enough to buy her.' 'What has become of your mistress McKinley? Do you ever hear from her?' 'Yes. ma'am, I often hear from her;— and summer before last, as I was walking up Broadway, with a basket of clean clothes, who should I meet but my old mistress McKinley! She gave a sort of a ^ start, and said in her drawling way. *0, | Charity, is it youT Her voice sounded | deep and hollow, as if it come from under the ground; for she was far gone in a con-sumption. If I wasn't mistaken, there was a little something al>out Acre, (laying her hand on her heart) that made her feel strangely, when she met poor Chan-ty. Says I, 'How do you do, mistress McKinley? How docs little Sammy do?' (That was my little grandson, you know, that she wouldn't let me buy.) 'I'm poorly. Charity,' says she, ' very poorly. Sammy's a smart boy. He's grown tall, and tends table nicely. Every ^night I teach him his prayers.' The indignant grandmother drawled out the last word in a tone, which Garrick himself could not have surpassed. Then suddenly changing both voice and manner, she added, in tones of earnest dignity, 'O! I couldn't stand that! Good "morning, ma'am,' said I. 1 smiled, as I enquired whether she had heard from Mrs. McKinley sinc^. 'Yes, ma'am. The lady that brings my daughter to the North every summer, told me last Fall she didn't think she could live long. When she went home, she asked ine if I had any message to send to my old mistress McKinley. I told her I had a message to send. Tell her, says I, to prepare to meet poor Charity at the jwlgment seat.' About a year after this conversation, 1 again visited New York, and called to see Charity Bowery. 1 asked her if she had heard any further tidings from her scat-tered children. The tears came to her eyes. 'You know I told you.' said she, 'that I found out my poor Richard was sold to a Mr. Mitchell, of Alabama. A white gentleman, who has been very kind , to me, went to them parts lately, and brought me back news of Richard. His | master ordered him to be flogged, and he | wouldn't come up and be tied. 'If you don't come up, you black rascal, I'll shoot you,' said his master. 'Shoot away,'said Richard; 'I won't come to be flogged.'— His master pointed a pistol at him—and, in two hours my boy was dead ! Richard was a spirity lad. I always knew it was hard for him to be a slave. Well-, he's free now: and I shall soon be with him.' lathe course of my conversation with this interesting woman, she told me much about tho patrols, who, armed with arbi-trary power, and frequently intoxicated, break into the houses of the colored peo-ple, afid subject them to all manner of outrages. But nothing seemed to have excited her imagination so much as the : insurrection of Nat Turner. The panic ' that prevailed throughout the slave States ' on that occasion, of course, reached her ears in repeated echoes, and reasons ire obvious why it should have awakened in-terest. It was, in fact, a sort oV Hegira to her mind, from which she was pronato VOL. III. NO. 17. date all important events in the history of her limited world. 'On Sundays,' said she, 'I have seen the negroes up in the country going away under large oaks, and in secret places, sitting in the woods with spelling book«. The brightest and best men were killed in Nat's time. Such ones are always'sus-pected. All the colored folks were afraid to pray in the time of that oM prophet Nat. There was no law al)out it; but the whites reported it round among them-selves, that if a tiote was heard, we should have some dreadful punishment; and after that the low whites would fall upon any slaves they heard praying or singing a hymn, and often kill them before their masters or mistresses could gettothrm.' • I a.-<krd Charity to give me a specimen of their hymns. In a voice cracked with age, but still retaining considerable ^weet-ness, she sang : * A few more beatinps of the wind and rain, hre the winter w ill be over— Glorj", Hallelujah! Some friends hjive aoiie before me; I must try togoand meet them— Gloty, Haaelujah I A few more risin?* and settings of the stm. t i c tho winter will be o v e r - Glory, Hallehijah! There's a better day a-coming— There's a better dav a-comini;— Oh,'Glory,Uailelnjah! With a very arch expression, she look-ed up as she concluded, and said, they wouldn't let us sing that. They thought we was going to rise, because we sung— better days are coming.' It is now more than a year since poor Charity went 'where the wicked cease from troubling and the weary are at rest.' • DRTBOWRINO BT D. W. BABTLETT. This man, who is noted for his statcsman-hke qu^ities and poetic genius, is about tho age of fifty. His physiognomy is ahuoat a sin-gular on«. His hair is of a black, which bor-ders on the auburn, and is full of curls. His fowhe^ ia round and lame. His eyes are simU, but twiHHe hTe stars. In bodv, h« is ot medium size and height—in short, save liis forehead, there is nothing to distinguish him from the thousands who walk the streets. A few days since he called in tfl spend a quiet hour with my friend Elihu Burritt and myself. In conversation he is very interest-ing— not impulsive, but ctxrf and calin, and yet warm. In dress, he is like" all Englishmen of any pretension, as plain as " a pike staff." An Englishman of blood is one of the plainest of mortals. The gaily-dressed persons whom you meet in the streets, are poor clerks who h.ive not money enough to live dccently. Jf some Americatis I wot of,were obliged to dress as plainly as Lord John Kasscll, or Sir Kobcrt Peel, they would go mad with anguish. There is a hearty kindness about Dr. Bow-ring, that you feel when in his presence, which affects you very like a mesmeriser's fingers. Gooilness radiates from his soul to other souls, like light and warmth from the ccntre sun to other minor snns. He is an excellent linguist—^is as perfectly at home in the French and Italian, as he is in the Enj^lish. In early life lie was .issociated with JEREMY BEXTH.\M, which had its effect upon him— and it was not a bad one. In 1822 he was arrested, while in France, but through the demands of the English Gov ernment he wu released, but forever banished. In '3«, howeVerj he was the bearer of addresses to Paris from the English p«ople at that crit-ical period, when the democratic seemed tri-omphing over the monarchical in France. AV'hen the news of the second revolution, in that country, came across the channel, the people of England rung the bells, fired cannon, and made Iwiifircs, until the nobility qnaked in its shoes, and spent millions to put Louis PIIILLIPPE on the throne of France. It showed how strong is republicanism yet in England. But although ^e aristocracy tri-umphed, the agitation had its legitimate effect. When the Reform Bill times came on, the people did not get on their knees and heg it from the Parliament; they stood up and de-mandetlit Ah! that was a thrilling; time when all England was in commotion. London was harrangued at every comer. The Houses of Parliament were surrounded by an immense mob. That was a thrilling time when HENRY BROUGIIAU got down upon his knees in the House of Lo^s, and be<rged of the Duke of Wellington to resi^ his ministry. But ho would not, and the mfuriated populace broke in the windows of his Apsley House ; he had them ironed up, and they remain so to this dav. Dr. Bowring, in this awful commotion, as ever, was the firm friend of the people, and it was through the influence of him and his brethren that the people were restrained from doing much harm. At midnight the Duke re-signed, and all England rejoiced. Dr. Bow-ring is of strong republican tendencies, so as to be exceedingly obnoxious to his noble friends. He has, for many years, been a member of Parliament and a very useful one, toa His strength lies in bis being a great statistician. He is a bad orator—has no eloquence, without facts and figures constitute ^oquence, and they do sometimes. He never mues what ia called a finished speech, and yet he ia a statesman of the first order. Ha has an envia-ble literary reputation. His Italian transla-tions are very beautiful, but bis Russian Hymns are the best of alL Ho is a tme poet of pn^ress—not singing the glory of battle-fields, but hymning the sor-rows of the oppressed and afflicted, and point-ing, with a prophetic finger, to the " better time coming." THERE'S two languages that's universal, the languaM of love, and the language <d money. The gals mtderstand the one, add the men the other, all the world over.
|Title||Charter Oak, 1848-04-27|
|Uniform Title||Charter oak (Hartford, Conn. : 1846)|
|Subject||Slavery -- United States -- Newspapers; Antislavery movements -- United States -- Newspapers; Hartford (Conn.) -- Newspapers|
|Description||Frequency: Weekly; Publication dates: New ser., vol. 1, no. 1 (Jan. 8, 1846)-v. 3, no. 52 (Dec. 28, 1848)|
|Collection||Newspapers of Connecticut|
|Source - Location||Connecticut State Library microfilm, AN104.H3 C63|
|Relation||Continues: Christian freeman (Hartford, Conn.) (DLC)sn 84025778 (OCoLC)10657256; Continues: Republican (Hartford, Conn.) (DLC)sn 84025785 (OCoLC)10703015|
|Relation-Is Part Of||Series title: Anti-Slavery newspapers|
|Publisher||Hartford [Conn.] : William H. Burleigh,|
|Rights||Digital Image © Connecticut State Library. All rights reserved. Images may be used for personal research or non-profit educational uses without prior permission. For permission to publish or exhibit, see Reproduction and Publication of State Library Collections, http://ctstatelibrary.org/reproduction-publication/|
|CONTENTdm file name||1989.cpd|
^ 'r ^ • ? ' I T" ^^^ JJ T. I7 TI T:
W I L L I A M a B D K L E I « H.
T E R M S .
Two iloixAKs m Aiivua—ftoM wUA n f tj
CMMB will be daducMd if paid tukOr m adraoM.
Two doUala to City Subwriben, wlio laeaiv* tiw
r^per bjr the Cwiior.
Sinfoe oopiea, FOOK CCHM.
No diffMooe w £ b« paid opoo EndnBgw, Duly
No f f f e r dnoooiuBea td; mil anvMges a n |Nid,
. . at the ootkn of the Publisher.
A Letten aas ConHBunioa Uons unut M ttd*
•RSMd to the Publiriier, 0 7 PMt P o ^
Con^pondents will be pannitted to tpeak their
•WB aern'menli (however wideiy differing from oun)
upon their own recponaibility—on these oonditions,
that their aatiage neither decency, good English, nor
pood taate, and give their namee to the I^blisher.
This last we mqaire far oar own satisfactio»—not
%r the public.
TERMS OF ADVEETISIWG.
AtfTCBTiBBiucirTa will be inserted sC lha fcUow-
For «ae aquaie, or 80 linea, three weeks, $1 00
I «• Cimtinuance each inaertimi, 90
( • T W UMS or hair aqnaie. thrsa wedca, 83
I * CwitiMiance each iaaettion, 10
*• OMB aqoare a yaar, • 10 00
** ON ataaie a yaar with pii*ihni of
w ia three waalta.
c P B O B M I A l . .
. » R i ] i c n » i . B s — P u m p o s K s .
FAM] LY NEWSPAPER
The dHABTH OA'','wodU W r a w n byiiwu
FAIJC'TTK'CHAa'm or « a S m t r a Ami tba i mp
of Ty^-ny. ft is a Fna Papw,—not tkeiaion a
cliiiniiel for all babble—bat what it would say, it
I Treely. It will ailnd in defense'of all right,
hdwev^ lowly and downtrodden, and throw rel«ike
inlii the fsce of all wrong, whether in parr>Ie aati
uniwlciolh, or in rags and squalor. Yet, thoogh 4
liira ihe sin, it will not hau tha sinner, it wiA
Iw nliiefly daroled to Uia eniase of LIBSBTT, ail
(uniting indsy«fideBt political action against Slav*
ry, but it wii; wear the collar of no Party. It win
aim to make whole, not demolish GoTemment,—la
wiest iU| scr||tre from th« ItavLs of m>pnpanra. mot
lu lireoh it. It would nut ]iut a fiFe.or«nd ta Chatst
Mihl State, to purify lliem,—but spare the tempba
»liile it nwts the rennin that are thronging them.
LITKTATDBC, of a liearty, manly sort, will ha«a ifa
place here, with all that tends t^iward hunnn » l e ««
.1 ion. We shall seek not to^divorro the spirit of Pro-
^iLiis from the sense orBeauty—but rather aim la
will Refinement to Reform—not forgetting, howavar,
tu use tha siwuige when high-handed wiehedwaa
shall demand it. Pasaing Events and fixed Piinai
pli«, the transient News, and the eternal Jjaws, shall
find a reconl in our Paper; and eTcrythins which
Imaest endeavor, good will and some «xperieiiee
ran do, win be attempted, to make It welcoma to ita
friends, a blessing to Hunaai^rMd to oaiselvaa i.
NEW SEllIES. HARTFORD, CONN., THBISDAY, APRIL 27, 1848.
From die K|
|CONTENTdm file name||1985.pdfpage|