One of the most manly specimens of oppressed human nature, in "Uncle Tom's Cabin," is George Harris. The manner in which Mrs. Stowe disposes of him, and the words she puts into his mouth, as reasons for his going to Liberia, always struck us as a piece of needless and hurtful encouragement of the vile spirit of Yankee Colonizationism.

  We never could reconcile it with an anti-slavery tale, nor see its place in an anti-slavery book. We well recollect, that some of the most prominent of the coloured men of New York complained of it at the time, very justly. Mr. Lewis Tappan then came out with the statement, that Mrs. Stowe regretted that any evil influence should be wrought by that chapter, and that she was not a colonizationist. But Mrs. Stowe, who is as capable of speaking her own thoughts, expressing her own opinions, and stating her own principles, as any woman on either side of the Atlantic, has not, we are grieved to say, thought proper, to disclaim Colonizationism, or to deprecate the negro-hating, negro-persecuting inference which Colonizationists might very fairly draw from that unfortunate chapter. This is the more to be regretted when we consider that Mrs. Stowe, so well knows the difference between Colonizationism in America, and in England. In the latter country, it is friendship for the negro; in the former, the deadliest, most satanic enmity. Whatever, therefore, aids, encourages, or, in the least degree, forwards the former, is just so much practical help given to one of the worst class of Anglo-Saxon enemies and revilers it was ever the hard lot of the negro to contend with.

  However, we hoped that bad chapter would be overlooked,—that the good the book would do, would, by far, over-balance the evil of that deplorable chapter. At least, thought we, if Colonizationists do not notice it, it is no business of ours, to cry to them, "Look here!" But with their accustomed keenness of vision, they have noticed and called particular attention to this chapter, and this hero, George Harris. We publish, this week, a paper from the January No. of the Colonization Herald, which shows how keen a blade Mrs. Stowe has put into the hands of our unscrupulous foes.—What a pity it is, that British America, either North temperate, or Tropical, could not have contained the manly runaway mulatto, and his family!

  Uncle Tom must be killed,—George Harris exiled! Heaven for dead negroes!—Liberia for living mulattoes! Neither can live on the American Continent! Death or banishment is our doom, say the Slaveocrats, the Colonizationists, and,—save the mark,—Mrs. Stowe!

  Let black men learn from this, and ten thousand live cases, the great lesson that the vindication of their rights and liberties, must be done mainly by themselves. That however gratefully accepting the assistance of friends, so far as it goes, the work, under God, is their own.

"Who would be free, himself must strike the blow."

  A single remark more. Mr. Frederick Douglass was the chief orator at the anniversary of the conservatives, and spoke also at the other meeting. But, strangely enough—with talent and power that would make him facile princeps in Liberia, and forced to deplore the prejudice of caste and colour in this country, making him feel every day and every hour his inferiority to the whites, and to see the impassable gulf that yawns between the two races—he pronounces colonization in Africa a nefarious and abominable scheme, and valiantly declares his unalterable resolution to live and die among the people who elbow him off the side-walk, and refuse to ride in the same car, or take their meals with him at the same table. This seems infatuation, but we will not quarrel with his taste. The sentiment of one of Milton's personages—better to reign in Tophet than to serve somewhere else—does not appear to be responded to very cordially by Mr. Douglass.

  His inconsistency on another point, however, is somewhat amusing. When showing his audience at the tabernacle that the world is really enlisted in the anti-slavery work, and has not been lulled to sleep by the clanking of chains, he triumphantly asked, "What is the world doing now?" "Reading Uncle Tom's Cabin; and when they have read that they will read the Key to the said Cabin!" "Very true," an auditor might have responded, "Mr. Douglass; but that book of your idolatory, the mere reading of which—as you very erroneously infer—proves that the world is more warmly enlisted than ever in the cause you are advocating, contains one of the strongest and best-put arguments for the colonization of yourself and the people of your race on the shores of Liberia that the world has heard for many a day. You might very well stand, Mr. Douglass, for Mrs. Stowe's George Harris; your complexion is alike, your intelligence is similar, your sense of wrong, and your mode of expressing it are sufficiently akin; but George Harris favours colonization, which you denounce as a 'nefarious scheme,' and determines to go thither, while you determine to stay here; and fortifies his determination by reasons and arguments which you, Mr. Douglass, and none of your co-laborers can refute or answer."

  In fact, Mrs. Stowe's colonization argument is a burr under the bare feet of her abolition "lovers," a thorn in their side, a beam in their eye, as "vinegar upon nitre" to their delicate taste. She located him in Liberia, not because she believes in colonization, but because she could'nt locate him anywhere else." This is your solution, Professor Stowe and Mr. Bacon is it? Could she not locate him in Canada, amid its not quite everlasting snows, if the States failed to give him an asylum? Could she not locate him among the legal subjects of Faustin Soulouque, under the shade of trees and beneath the influence of a sky whispering to him perpetually of Africa, the magnificent country from which his fathers are torn? Could she not have located him in England or Scotland, sending him on as an avant courier to prepare the way for her own triumphal entry there, to receive the felicitations of a country which would be sure to extend to one of her favorite proteges out of regard to herself at least, an enduring asylum and a welcome hospitality?

  This matter about locating him in Liberia through necessity is simply preposterous, and the wretched shift resorted to shows how hard they who use it are driven for an argument. We take a more direct and manly view of the question, and do Mrs. Stowe the credit to believe that she located Harris in Liberia, just because she was persuaded that Liberia was the best place where he could be located; the place where galling inequality would disappear, where his talents and his piety could be more hopefully and fruitfully exerted, and where the greatest amount of happiness to himself, and means of doing good to others, could be certainly obtained. And while we sympathize with both abolition societies in their cruel disappointment at not finding in Mrs. Stowe an ally, ready to go the whole length of their revolutionary ultraism, we find consolation in the thought that she has made herself no party to the fierce anathemas which those who claim her as their own are wont to deal out unsparingly on one of the noblest schemes of modern philanthropy, the pages of whose history display the finger of God, brightly as the gilded spire the rays of the noonday sun. And while her graphic and powerful story has roused the sympathy of the world's heart in behalf of the oppressed, and indignation toward the oppressor, it has none the less pointed the world's eye to that infant republic, Heaven-shielded and fostered, a bright spot on the face of a continent lying in darkness, and shown the crushed descendant of Ham, when the yoke has been broken from off his neck, where he may find, with God's blessing, a safe and peaceful asylum, a congenial climate, a glorious country, a kindred people, a blessed religion, exemption from the "proud man's contumely," and a happy home, unless idleness, unthrift, and profligacy, with other vices which germinates as well from the corrupt heart of the African, on his own soil, as from that of his pale-faced brother everywhere, conspire to prevent it.

C.V.S.