."

In slavery, we have "respect of persons," strongly marked, and
reduced to system. Here men are despised not merely for "the vile
raiment," which may cover their scarred bodies. This is bad enough.
But the deepest contempt of humanity here grows out of birth or
complexion. Vile raiment may be, often is, the result of indolence,
or improvidence, or extravagance. It may be, often is, an index of
character. But how can I be responsible for the incidents of my
birth?--how for my complexion? To despise or honor me for these, is to
be guilty of "respect of persons" in its grossest form, and with its
worst effects. It is to reward or punish me for what I had nothing
to do with; for which, therefore, I cannot, without the greatest
injustice, be held responsible. It is to poison the very fountains
of justice, by confounding all moral distinctions. What, then, so
far as the authority of the New Testament is concerned, becomes of
slavery, which cannot be maintained under any form nor for a single
moment, without "respect of persons" the most aggravated and
unendurable? And what would become of that most pitiful, silly, and
wicked arrangement in so many of our churches, in which worshippers
of a dark complexion are to be sent up to the negro pew?[20]

[Footnote 20: In Carlyle's Review of the Memoirs of Mirabeau, we
have the following anecdote illustrative of the character of a
"grandmother" of the Count. "Fancy the dame Mirabeau sailing stately
towards the church font; another dame striking in to take precedence
of her; the dame Mirabeau despatching this latter with a box on the
ear, and these words, '_Here, as in the army_, THE BAGGAGE _goes
last_!'" Let those who justify the negro-pew arrangement, throw
a stone at this proud woman--if they dare.]

Nor are we permitted to confine this principle to religious
assemblies. It is to pervade social life everywhere. Even where
plenty, intelligence and refinement, diffuse their brightest rays,
the poor are to be welcomed with especial favor. "Then said he to
him that bade him, when thou makest a dinner or a supper, call not
thy friends, nor thy brethren, neither thy kinsmen, nor thy rich
neighbors, lest they also bid thee again, and a recompense be made
thee. But when thou makest a feast, call the poor and the maimed,
the lame and the blind, and thou shalt be blessed; for they cannot
recompense thee, but thou shalt be recompensed at the resurrection
of the just."

In the high pla