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Maryland State Archives Maryland Colonization Journal Collection MSA SC 4303 msa_sc4303_scm11070-0107 Enlarge and print image (5M) |
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Maryland State Archives Maryland Colonization Journal Collection MSA SC 4303 msa_sc4303_scm11070-0107 Enlarge and print image (5M) |
| MARYLAND COLONIZATION JOURNAL. 111 tion. Pretending to the most exalted piety and the purest principles of benevolence, it violates the plainest maxims of divine will, and riots and rejoices in the midst of human suffering. Unfurl- ing the standard of freedom, and the banner of the cross, it disgraces one by seeking to violate the constitution, which secures and guards that free- dom, and stains the other with the blood of its unfortunate victims. Assuming for its motto, 'that all men are born equal,' it seeks to bring about a loathsome amalgamation between two races of people, in the very lineaments of whose faces the hand of the Deity may be distinctly traced, defining a broad anil eternal separation. Dark, indeed, must be the fanaticism—miserable the delusion, that can calculate upon effecting an object, so disgusting and so revolting, in a country like this. Belore it can be done, sir, every rivulet which gushes from her moiiutaius must be crimsoned with blood, every field must become the scene of some deadly fraternal strife, and drenched in fraternal gore. But what after all, with all its botftad philan- thropy, has abolition elected? Its history is writ- ten in blood. Every exhibition of its infernal sa- turnalia has been followed in rapid succession by unrelenting popular violence and outrage. Al- ready has its machinations convulsed the union from one extremity to the other; and if, in these demonstrations, the christian and the patriot do not perceive the decay of their fondest hopes, their most cherished aspirations, it is because their prayers mingling together around the throne of the Kternal, strengthen their faith in the per- petuation of those institutions, which, alone of all the governments upon earth, amply secures civil and religious liberty. But what has abolition dona for the peculiar ob- jects of its pretended benevolence? lias it im- firoved the physical or moral condition of the cn- oured man? Has it loosened one chain that binds him? Has he, by its efforts, tasted of the sweets of that liberty, which, in the plenitude of its be- neficence, it would proffer him' Or, rather, has not the chalice which it has presented to his lips proved to be the cup of bitterness and woe '. A bloody record of its madness and its folly may be found in the history of one of the southern states, abundantly attesting its peculiar ailaptedness to ameliorating the condition of the unfortunate Afri- can! Sir, it does appear to me, as if abolition, with the hell-engendered cunning which the poet has ascribed to the veiled prophet of Korahan, seeks to allure its unfortunate victims to destruc- tion, that it may laugh at their miseries; and when too late they perceive the wretched delu- sion into which they have been led, and while chains and gibbet rises to their view, exclaims with exulting mockery, Now, ye wise saints, behold your light—your star! Ye would be dupes and victims—and ye are ! Let not, then, the coloured man suppose that abolition is his friend. No matter what may be its views—no matter what may be the principles which govern its action—its inevitable tendency is the extermination of his race. Is this fancy, or is it the admonition of reason? Let us examine: If the professions of the abolitionists be true, if the polluted press which sustains and animates their unholy cause, is a fair exponent of their views and prospects, they aim at nothing less than a dissolution of the union, as a necessary prere- quisite to effect their destructive and unhallowed purposes. If then a dissolution of the union should be effected—and I hold, sir, it Mirer can be done without the effusion of blood—what will be our situation at such an eventful ami awful perioil ? We shall be plunged, at once, into the midst of a civil and a servile war—and the first blow that is struck will be the signal for the extermination of the coloured race. Every consideration of pru- dence and self-preservation would dictate, that we should first rid ourselves of the domestic foe, who, goaded to desperation by some mad fanatic, selects the hour of midnight for the perpetration of crimes, and, in the wild and unbridled career of passions, unregulated bv mental inlluence, spares neither age, sex, nor condition! It is to avoid calamities like these that coloni- zation comes. Its path is not marked by blood and carnage, nor is it strewed with the fragments of our sacred union. Its banners bear no such trai- torous inscription, as disunion, nor is it stained with a brother's blood ! But spread upon its folds is Liberty, Union, and the Cross! For, while it seeks to preserve the integrity of the union, and proffers freedom to the bondsman, it carries the cheering beams of a holy religion to a dark and benighted land. It is to this land that coloniza- tion invites the coloured man, and there let him go. Here be can never he free. No matter what may be the circumstances by which he is sur- rounded, he is still a slave. The distinguishing colour of his race is not more plainly marked, than is slave written upon his brow. Let Mm go, then, to the land of his fathers. Let him go to the place which the finger of the Deitv has point- ed out as his peculiar residence. There indeed he may be free in the most comprehensive sense of the term. There chains and manacles fall from his arms. There his soul may walk forth in the majesty of its own dignity. There he may realize the grand conception of the poet, Os homitli sublime liiilit en'lumqui' tueri. And who shall say, that the infant republic, planted on the shores of Africa, may not be the germ of a powerful and vigorous nation? Who shall say, that imbibing, as it does, its notions of civil government, from the purest model upon earth, it may not at some future day present the proud spectacle of a people adorned by all the arts that embellished, and strengthened by all the resources that constitute a great and powerful nation? For my own part, I have the liveliest hopes of the future prospects of the colony, and solemnly believe that the brightest anticipations of the christian and philanthropist will be completely realized. had the habits and associations of the plough, the farm, and country lite wrought themselves into his mind, that his alter acquirements could only mingle with them, forming an unexampled amal- gam, like unto nothing but itself. It is in vain to attempt to give a full picture of such a genuine uniipie; but some slight and imperfect dashes may help the imagination to a faint idea of what none can fully conceive but those who have seen and heard Old Father Morris. Suppose yourself one of a half a dozen chil- dren, and you hear the cry—'Father Morris is coming! You run to the window or door, and you see a tall, bulky old man, with a pair of saddle bags on one arm, hitching his old horse with fumbling carelessness, and then deliberately stumping towards the house. You notice his trancpiil, florid, full-moon face, enlightened by t pair of great round blue eyes, that roll with dreamy inattentiveness on all the objects around, and as he takes olf his hat you see the white curling wig that sets off his round head. He comes toward you—and as you stand staring with all the children round, he deliberately puts his great hand on your head, and with a deep rum- bling voice inquires, 'How d'ye do, my darter?—is your daddy at home?' 'My darter' usually makes off as fast as possi- ble, in an unconquerable giggle. Father Morris goes into the house, and we watch hirn at every turn, as with the most literal simplicity he makes himself at home—takes otf his wig—wipes down his great face with a checked pocket handker- chief—helps himself hither and thither to what- ever he wants, and asks for such thimrs as he cannot lay his hands on, with all the comfortable casirress of childhood. I remember to this day, how we used to peep through the crack of the door, or hold it half a jar and peep in, to watch his motions—and how mightily diverted we were with his deep, slow maimer of speaking, his heavy cumbrous walk, but above all, with the wonderful faculty of licm- iiiiw* which he possessed. His deep, thundering, protracted a-hem-em was like nothing else which ever 1 heard; and when once as he was in the midst of these performances, the parlour door suddenly happened to swing open, I heard one of irry roguish brothers calling in a suppressed tone, 'Charles, Charles, Father Morris has hemmed the door open!' and then followed the sigrrs of a long an I desperate titter, in which I sincerely sympathized. he could not come in his old clothes.' Thus he went on, significantly summing up with great simplicity and emotion, he added, 'but only think what Thomas lost, for in the middle of the meet- ins;, the Lord Jesus came and stood among them ! How sorry Thomas must have been! This repre- sentation served to fill the vacant seats lor some time to come. At another time, Father Morris gave the details of the anointing of David to be king. He told them how Samuel went to Bethlehem—to Jesse's house—and went in with a 'How d'ye do, Jesse f and how, when Jesse asked him to take a chair, he said he could not stay a minute—that th» Lord had sent him to anoint one of his sons for a king; and how, when Jesse called in the tallest and handsomest, Samuel said he would not do; and how all the rest passed the same test; and at last, how Samuel says, 'why, have not you any more sons, Jesse ?' and Jesse says, 'why yes, there is little David, down in the lot; and how, as soon as ever Samuel saw David, 'he slashed the oil right on to him;' and how Jesse said, 'he never was so beat in all his life.' Father Morris sometimes used his illustrative talent to a very good purpose, in the way of rebuke. He had on his farm a fine orchard of peaches, from which some of the ten and twelve year old gentlemen helped themselves more libe- rally than even the old man's kindness thought expedient. Accordingly, he took occasion to introduce into his sermon one Sunday, in his little parish, an account of a journey he took, and how he saw a fine orchard of peaches, that made his mouth water to look at them. 'So,' says he, 'I came up to the fence and looked all around—lor I would not have touched one of them, without leave, for all the world. At last I spied a man, and says I, 'Mister, won't you give me some of your peaches?' So the man came, and gave me nigh about a hat full. And while I stood there eating, I said, 'Mister, how do you manage to keep your peach- es.' 'Keep them C said he, and he stared at me— 'what do you mean." 'Yes sir,' said I—'don't the boys steal them ?' 'Boys steal them ?' said he—'no indeed!' 'Why, sir,' said I, '1 have a whole lot full of peaches, and I cannot get half of them,'—here the old man's voice grew tremulous, 'because tin? boys in my parish steal them so.' 'Why sir,' s.iid he, 'don't their parents teach them not to steal ?' 'And I grew all over in a cold sweat, and I told him I was afcard they didn't.' 'Why, how you talk!' says the man: 'tell me where you live.' 'Then,' said Father Morris— the tears running over—'I was obliged to tell him I lived in the town of G.' After this, Father Morris kept his peaches. Hut the morrow is Sunday. The oM man rises in the pulpit. He is not now in his own humble, little parish, preaching simply to the hoers of corn, anil planters of potatoes—but there sits Governor I), anrt there is Judge R. and Counseller P. and Judge Q, In short, he is before a refined and literary audience. But Father Morris rises— he thinks nothing of this—he cares nothing—lie knows nothing, as he himself would say, but 'Jesus Christ and him crucified.' He takes a passage of Scripture to explain—perhaps it is the walk to Emmaus, and the conversation of Jesus with his disciples. Immediately the whole start out belbre you, living and picturesque—the road to Emmaus is a New England turnpike—you see its mile stones, its inullen stalks, its toll gates. Next the disciples rise, and you have before you all their anguish, and hesitation, ami dismay talked out to you in the language of your own fire-side. You smile—you are amused—yet you are touched, and the illusion grows every moment. You see the approaching stranger, and the mys- terious conversation grows more and more inte- resting. Kmmaus rises in the distance, in the likeness of a New Kngland village, with a white meeting-house and spire. You follow the travel- lers—you enter the house with them—nor do you wake from your trance until with streaming eyes the preacher tells you that 'they saw it was the Lord Jesus, and what a pity it was they could not have known it before!' It was after a sermon on this verv chapter of Scripture history, that Governor Griswold, in pacing out of the house, laid hold of the sleeve of his first acquaintance, 'pray tell me,' said he, •who is this minister?' 'Well, he is an oddity—and a genius too! I declare!' he continued, 'I have been wondering all the morning, how I could have read the Bible to so little purpose as not to see all these particu- lars he has presented !' I once heard him narrate in this picturesque way, the story of Lazarus. The great bustling city of Jerusalem first rises to view, and you are told with great simplicity, how the Lord Jesus 'used to get tired of the noise'—and bow he was 'tired ot preaching again and again to people who would not mind a word he said'—anil bow, 'when it came evening, he used to go out and see his friends in Bethany. Then he told about the house of Martha and Mary—'a little white house among the trees,' he said, 'you could just see it fioui Jerusalem.' And there the Lord Jesus ami his disciples used to fy> anil sit in the evening with Martha and Mary, and Lazarus. Then the narrator went on to tell how Lazarus died—describing with tears and a choaking voice, the distress they were in—and how they sent a messenger to the Lord Jesus, and he did not come, and how they wondered—and thus on he went, winding up the interest by the graphic minutia> of an eye-witness, until he woke you from the dream by his triumphant joy at the resurrection scene. Among his own simple people, this style of Scripture painting was listened to with breathless interest. But it was particularly in those circles called in New England, 'Conference Meetings,' that his whole warm soul unfolded, and the Bible, in his hands, became a gallery of New Kngland paintings. He particularly loved the Evangelists—follow- ing the footsteps of Jesus Christ—dwelling upon his words—repeating over and over again the stories of what he did, with all the fond veneration of an old and favoured servant. Sometimes too, he would give the narration an exceedingly practical turn, as one example will illustrate. He had noticed a falling off in his little circle which met lor social prayer, and took occasion the first time he re-collected a tolerable audience, to tell concerning 'the Conference Meeting winch the disciples attended,' after the resurrection. 'But Thomas was not with them,' said the old man, in a sorrowful voice. 'Why ! what could keep Thomas away ? Perhaps,' said he, glancing at some of his backward auditors—'Thomas had got cold-hearted, and was afraid they would ask him to make the first prayer—or perhaps,' said he, looking at some of the farmers, 'Thomas was afraid the roads were bad—or perhaps,' he added, after a pause, 'Thomas had got proud, and thought The following article is a happy mixture of the sportive and pathetic ; we hope its length will not deter our readers from its perusal. (From theLady's Book.) Old Father Morris BY MRS. HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. Of all the marvels which astonished my child- hood, there is none I remember to this day with so much interest, as the old man whose name Ini ins my caption. When I knew him he was an aged clergyman, settled over an obscure village in New England. He bad enjoyed the advantages of a liberal education, had a strong original power of thought, an omnipotent imagination, and much general information. But so early and so deep Our old friend was not less original in the logi- cal than in the illustrative portions of his dis- courses. His logic was of the familiar, colloquial kind, which shakes bands with common sense like an old friend. Sometimes, too, his great mind and great heart would be poured out on the vast schemes of religion, in language which, though homely, produced all the effects of the sublime. He once preached a discourse on the text, 'the High and Holy One that inhabiteth eternity;' and from the beginning to the end, it was a train of solemn thought. With his usual simple earnest- ness, and his great rolling voice, he told about the Great God—the Great Jehovah—and bow the peo- ple in this world were flustering and worrying, and afraid they should not get time to do this, ami that, and t'other. 'But,' he added, with full- hearted satisfaction, 'the Lord is never in a hurry : he has it all to do; but he has time enough, for he inhabiteth eternity.' And the grand idea of infi- nite leisure and almighty resources, was carried through the sermon, with equal strength and sim- plicity. But the sayings and doings of this good old man, as reported in the legends of the neighbourhood, are more than can be gathered or reported. He lived far beyond the common age of man, and con- tinued, when age had impaired his powers, to tell over and over again, the same Bible stories that he had told over before. I recollect of hearing of the joy that almost broke the old man's heart, when, after many years'diligent watching and nurture of the good seed in his parish, it began to spring into vegeta- tion, sudden and beautiful as that which answers the patient watching of the husbandman. Many a hard, worldly-hearted man—many a sleepy, in- attentive hearer—many a listless, idle young per- son, began to give ear to words that had long fal- len unheeded. A neighbouring minister, who had been sent for to sec and rejoice in these results, describes the scene, when, on entering the little church, be found an anxious, crowded auditory, assembled around their venerable teacher, waiting for direction and instruction. The old man was sitting in his pulpit, almost choking with fulness of emotion as he gazed around. 'Father,'said the youthful minister, 'I suppose you are ready to say with old Simeon, 'Now, Lord, lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation.' 'Sartin, sartin,' said the old man, while the tears streamed down his cheeks, and his whole frame shook with emotion. It was not many years after, that this simple and loving servant of Christ was gathered in peace unto Him whom he loved. His name is fast pass- ing from remembrance; and in a lew years, his memory, like his bumble grave, will be entirely grown over and forgotten among men, though it will be held in everlasting remembrance by Him who 'forgetteth not his servants,' and in whose sight the death of his saints is precious. of my colonist interpreter, I make a translation in their language. 1 his I carry into school, ami require tliein without assistance to turn it into English. If the translation is correct, they will generally find but little difficulty in reading it. If the translation is incorrect, or defective, by proper illustrations and explanations of the idea they wilt be able, commonly, to point out the error or defect. By this means we mutually instruct each other. One of the second class, a boy about twelve or thirteen years of age, is, we b«pe, con- verted to God. As it respects health, \\c have all been highly favoured. Brother and Sister Clarke have had no attack of fever, which might be considered dan- gerous. And much of the time, they say, their health is as good as it was in America. My own health has been better within six months, than it had been for the same length of time, since I first had the fever. Relative position of the settlements m Liberia.— In the old colony, Monrovia is the principal town. It is situated near the mouth of the Mcssurado river, about seventy milts north-west from Edina. It once had a somewhat extensive and lucrative trade with the natives; but, owing to the wars, carried M principally to supply slavers with vic- tims, their trade with the natives is, at present very small. Some of the merchants have recently given their attention to agriculture. Up Stockton creek, which communicates with the Mcssurado and the St. Paul's, about five miles from Monrovia, is the town of N"W Georgia, inhabited by recap- tured natives. Three miles further, on the St. Paul's river, is the town of Caldwell, containing probably three or four hundred inhabitants. Twelve miles further up the St. Paul's, and about twenty miles from Monrovia, Millsburg is situ- ated—about three hundred inhabitants. The three last-mentioned towns are principally agri- cultural. Coming down the coast from Monrovia, we next come to Marshall, a small settlement, about thirty-five miles north-west of Edina, near the mouth of the Junk river. The inhabitants give their attention to farming. The sea-port of Little Uassa is a native salt-town on the sea-coast, about twenty miles north-west of Edina. A few colonists reside here in houses of native construc- tion, for the purpose of trade. Here a slave fac- tory has recently been established, ami is pursu- ing its business with an energy which threatens rapidly to depopulate this region. As this estab- lishment is within eleven miles ol the town in which I reside, from its influence, though perhaps not aimed directly against our enterprise, I have been hindered, no doubt, in trying to get a native house completed. The head-men on whom I rely for the building of the house, find it so much easier to get money by selling slaves than by work, that their attention is very much taken up with that. Edina, the place where we now reside, is a pleasantly situated town, having the ocean on its western boundary, and on the eastern a broad expanse of water, formed by the union of the St. John's, Mechlin, and Benson rivers. The two latter empty into the first, and, passing along between Bassa Cove and Edina, are poured into the sea. This town contains not far from three hundred inhabitants, a large portion of whom are beginning to turn their attention to agriculture. The mission-house stands on a hill iust out of the village, and commands a very pi int view of Edina, Bassa Cove, St. John's and Mechlin rivers, and of the ocean. Bassa Cove, on the south side of St. Jonn's river, is a pleasantly situated place, having the ocean on the west, and Benson's river on the east. This town has been built since we came here, and appears to be flourishing. The inhabitants have entered upon the cultivation of their farms with a commendable zeal, and encou- raging success. This town contains, probably, a little over three hundred inhabitants. About seventy or eighty miles down the coast is Senou, purchased by the Mississippi Colonization Society, as a location for their emigrants. The town is on the sea-coast, having the Senou river on the east. The principal place of residence for the colonists, is, I believe, about four miles up the Senou river. The number of inhabitants is small; how many, I do not know. About seventy or eighty miles further to the leeward, is Cape Pal- mas. This seems to be the most delightful region of any in the colonies. The Presbyterian and Episcopalian missions are, in respect to tho natives, 'laying a good foundation for the time to come.' (From the Baptist Missionary Magazine.) Missions to Liberia. Extracts from a Letter ok Mr. Crocker, dated Edina, July 21, 1838. Mission School —Our school, under the care of brother Day, give us, at present, a good degree of satisfaction. Sixteen native boys belong to it. Their conduct and proficiency are, in general, pleasing. Two of the most forward, from their knowledge of English, are becoming very useful to us as interpreters. Should they progress as they have done, and be permitted to stay with us a year or two longer, their services will be of inestimable value to the missionaries. The school is the only place to which we can look for good interpreters, and instructors in native schools. Brother Day confines himself to English stu- dies. I have two classes of the most forward of the boys, whom I instruct once a day in reading their own language. The second class are in the •Bassa Spelling Book.' The first class having gone through that, I furnish them with manu- script reading. Out of school, with the assistance The Village Church. I love the ivy.mantled tower, Rocked by the storms of thousand years, The grave whose melancholy (lower Was nourished by a martyr's tears; The sacred yew, so feared in war, Which, like the sword to David given. Inflicted not a human scar, But lent to man the arms of heaven. I love the organ's joyous swell, Sweet echo of the joyous ode, I love the cheerful village bell, Faint emblem of the call of God. Waked by the sound, I bend my feet, I bid my swelling sorrows cease ; I do but touch the mercy's seat, And hear the still small voice of peace. And, as the ray of evening fades, I love amidst the dead to stand ; Where, in the charnel's deepening shades, I seem to meet the ghostly band. One comes—Oh ! mark his sparkling eye, I know his faith, his strong endeavour; Another—ah! I hear him sigh, Alas! and he is gone forever ! Another treads the shadowy aisle, I know him—'tis my sainted sire ;• I know his patient angel smile. His shepherd's voice, his eye of fire ! His ashes rest in yonder urn, I saw his death, I closed his eye ; Bright sparks amidst those ashes burn. That death has taught me how to die. Long be our Father's temple ours. Woe to the hand by which it falls; A thousand spirits watch its towers, A cloud of angels guard its walls. And be their shield by us possessed; Lord, rear around thy blest abode. The buttress of a holy breast, The rampart of a present God. • Hooker. |