ch vital paramount
importance to me.... It seems to me that we are possessed of power and
opportunity to do a great work; how can I not feel the keenest anxiety
as to the use we make of this talent which God has entrusted us with? We
dispose of the physical, mental, and moral condition of some hundreds of
our fellow-creatures. How can I bear to think that this great occasion
of doing good, of dealing justly, of setting a noble example to others,
may be wasted or neglected by us? How can I bear to think that the day
will come, as come it surely must, when we shall say: We once had it in
our power to lift this burden from four hundred heads and hearts, and
stirred no finger to do it; but carelessly and indolently, or selfishly
and cowardly, turned our back upon so great a duty and so great a
privilege.

I cannot utter what I feel upon this subject, but I pray to God to pour
His light into our hearts, and enable us to do that which is right.

In every point of view, I feel that we ought to embrace the cause of
these poor people. They will be free assuredly, and that before many
years; why not make friends of them instead of deadly enemies? Why not
give them at once the wages of their labor? Is it to be supposed that a
man will work more for fear of the lash than he will for the sake of an
adequate reward? As a matter of policy, and to escape personal violence,
or the destruction of one's property, it were well not to urge
them--ignorant, savage, and slavish, as they are--into rebellion. As a
mere matter of worldly interest, it would be wise to make it worth their
while to work with zeal and energy for hire, instead of listlessly
dragging their reluctant limbs under a driver's whip.

Oh, how I wish I was a man! How I wish I owned these slaves! instead of
being supported (disgracefully, as it seems to me) by their unpaid
labor....

You tell me, dear H----, that you are aged and much altered, and you
doubt if I should know you. That's a fashion of speech--you doubt no
such thing, and know that I should know you if your face were as red as
the fiery inside of Etna, and your hair as white as its snowy shoulders.

I have had the skin peeled off the back of my neck with standing in the
sun here, and my whole face and hands are burnt, by constant exposure,
to as fine a coffee-color as you would wish to see of a summer's day.
Yet, after all, I got as sharp a sunstroke on my shoulders, driving on a
coach-box by the side of Loch