soned in a deaf, dead, Infinite
Injustice, as in the accursed iron belly of a Phalaris' Bull!
This is and remains forever intolerable to all men whom God
has made. Do we wonder at French Revolutions, Chartisms,
Revolts of Three Days? The times, if we will consider them,
are really unexampled.

Never before did I hear of an Irish Widow reduced to 'prove her
sisterhood by dying of typhus-fever and infecting seventeen
persons,'--saying in such undeniable way, "You see, I was your
sister!" Sisterhood, brotherhood was often forgotten; but not
till the rise of these ultimate Mammon and Shotbelt Gospels, did
I ever see it so expressly denied. If no pious Lord or _Law-
ward_ would remember it, always some pious Lady (_'Hlaf-dig,'_
Benefactress, _'Loaf-giveress,'_ they say she is,--blessings on
her beautiful heart!) was there, with mild mother-voice and hand,
to remember it; some pious thoughtful _Elder,_ what we now call
'Prester,' _Presbyter_ or 'Priest,' was there to put all men in
mind of it, in the name of the God who had made all.

Not even in Black Dahomey was it ever, I think, forgotten to the
typhus-fever length. Mungo Park, resourceless, had sunk down to
die under the Negro Village-Tree, a horrible White object in the
eyes of all. But in the poor Black Woman, and her daughter who
stood aghast at him, whose earthly wealth and funded capital
consisted of one small calabash of rice, there lived a heart
richer than _'Laissez-faire:'_ they, with a royal munificence,
boiled their rice for him; they sang all night to him, spinning
assiduous on their cotton distaffs, as he lay to sleep: "Let us
pity the poor white man; no mother has he to fetch him milk, no
sister to grind him corn!" Thou poor black Noble One,--thou
_Lady_ too: did not a God make thee too; was there not in thee
too something of a God!--

Gurth born thrall of Cedric the Saxon has been greatly pitied by
Dryasdust and others. Gurth with the brass collar round his
neck, tending Cedric's pigs in the glades of the wood, is not
what I call an exemplar of human felicity: but Gurth, with the
sky above him, with the free air and tinted boscage and umbrage
round him, and in him at least the certainty of supper and social
lodging when he came home; Gurth to me seems happy, in
comparison with many a Lancashire and Buckinghamshire man, of
these days, not born thrall of anybody! Gurth's brass collar did
not gall him: Cedric _deserved_ to be his Ma