making all this trouble in our nation? I will answer you in the burning
words of a Northern clergyman in his speech at a meeting called to
sympathize with the family of John Brown, after his death by martyrdom:
"The Slave-Power itself, standing up there in all its deformity in the
sight of Northern consciences,--that is the cause, [applause] and there
the responsibility belongs."[2] Yes, you are sinning against the
Northern conscience! It is settled forever that you are evil-doers in
holding your present relation to the slave. We are bound to hem you in
as by fire, till, like a scorpion so fenced about, you die by your own
sting. We must proclaim liberty to your captives. Step but one foot with
Kate on free soil, and our watchmen of liberty, set to break every yoke
and help fugitives on their way from the house of bondage, will be
around you in troops, and shout in her ear those electrifying and
beatifying words, "You are a free woman!" There her chains will drop;
she will cease to be a slave, and become a human being.

[Footnote 2: _Boston Courier_, Nov. 26, 1859.]

Must I refer to your letter once more? I hope to destroy its spell over
me. But I wish at times that I had never seen that letter. "Tell Mammy
that it is a great disappointment to me that her name is not to have a
place in my household." Your little slave-babe, Kate's child, you named
Cygnet, because Mammy's name is Cygnet, and she and your mother grew up
together, and she has been your kind, faithful servant and friend, as
much friend as servant, during all your youth till you were married. And
you seek to perpetuate her name in your own household, and to have a
little Cygnet grow up with your own little Susan. "I was always pleased
with the idea that my Susan and little Cygnet should grow up together;
but it seems best that it should not be so, or it would not be denied."
All this is very sweet and beautiful; but now let me tell you, honestly,
what the spontaneous thought of a Northerner is while meditating on such
an apparently lovely picture. Here it is: Suppose that Susan and little
Cygnet, when both are three years old, are playing in your front-yard
some morning, and a cruel slave-trader should look over the fence, and
say to your husband, "Fine little thing there, sir; take a hunderd and a
ha'f for her?" I ask, Would not your husband (perhaps in need, just
then, of money to pay a note) lay down his newspaper, invite the fellow
in to drink, and g