untry. We would even go further, and ask you to shut your doors
against either ministers or laymen, who are at all guilty of upholding
and sustaining this monster sin. By the cries of the slave, which come
from the fields and swamps of the far South, we ask you to do this! By
that spirit of liberty and equality of which you all admire, we would
ask you to do this. And by that still nobler, higher, and holier spirit
of our beloved Saviour, we would ask you to stamp upon the head of the
slaveholder, with a brand deeper than that which marks the victim of his
wrongs, the infamy of theft, adultery, man-stealing, piracy, and murder,
and, by the force of public opinion, compel him to "unloose the heavy
burden, and let the oppressed go free."

LETTER XXI.

_A Chapter on American Slavery._

The word Englishman is but another name for an American, and the word
American is but another name for an Englishman--England is the father,
America the son. They have a common origin and identity of language;
they hold the same religious and political opinions; they study the same
histories, and have the same literature. Steam and mechanical ingenuity
have brought the two countries within nine days sailing of each other.
The Englishman on landing at New-York finds his new neighbours speaking
the same language which he last heard on leaving Liverpool, and he sees
the American in the same dress that he had been accustomed to look upon
at home, and soon forgets that he is three thousand miles from his
native land, and in another country. The American on landing at
Liverpool, and taking a walk through the great commercial city, finding
no difficulty in understanding the people, supposes himself still in
New-York; and if there seems any doubt in his own mind, growing out of
the fact that the people have a more healthy look, seem more polite, and
that the buildings have a more substantial appearance than those he had
formerly looked upon, he has only to imagine, as did Rip Van Winkle,
that he has been asleep these hundred years.

If the Englishman who has seen a Thompson silenced in Boston, or a
Macready mobbed in New-York, upon the ground that they were foreigners,
should sit in Exeter Hall and hear an American orator until he was
hoarse, and wonder why the American is better treated in England than
the Englishman in America, he has only to attribute it to John Bull's
superior knowledge of good manners, and his being a more law-abidin