"Many honest and intelligent men here are rising up in defence of the pining bondsman; they are willing to brave the storm of opposition, so that they may be able to live in obedience to the Divine command, which says, 'Plead the cause of the poor and needy.'
"Such things are calculated to stimulate us to duty; I hope none of us will ever grow weary in well-doing."—Nat. Era.
But every case has two sides. Hear what one of the most enlightened Editors of our country says—he is neutral in politics and religion—
"Starvation and Fiction.
'The extraordinary demand which has prevailed for the Abolition work of Mrs. Stowe, has extended, we perceive, to England, where it is exciting some considerable amount of virtuous indignation. They are of course, in a condition there to feel as just abhorrence of the inhumanity of their cruel white brethren on this side of the Atlantic.
'The throngs there who linger in sickness and starvation, with no one to care for them, no hand to do a friendly office as the soul is being starved out of its wasted tenement—whose festering misery would make the change from its charnel house to a negro's cabin, a perfect paradise, they could feel for 'Uncle Tom,' and poor souls, do all they can for the cause. The 'cabin' of the black man, though a palace, compared with the kennels in which the white paupers herd and sicken and die.
'Indeed! How little do 'Uncle Tom's' sympathisers know or care about the suffering or the misery that exists among their own colored dupes in all our principal cities. Since the account of the English starvation reached us, we read in one of the papers of our city, this paragraph—
'Died of Starvation.—The Coroner on Saturday held an inquest on the body of Ann Maria Wilson, a colored woman, aged about 35 years, who lived in Baker street, below Seventh. The jury returned a verdict that she died 'for want of food.'
That is exactly to the point, and shows how little our hypocritical fanatics really know or care about the poor slave. What do they care, the notoreity seekers, the convention spouters, or fiction writers—how many slaves may be coaxed or stolen away from kind masters and comfortable homes, to be left in the putrid dens of Baker street, to die of neglect and starvation? Do they know or care how extensive a system of fraud may be practised by noisy fanatics against the fugitive?
Of all the varieties in human character, the most hateful in the sight of God and man, is the hypocrite.