VOL. VII
THE PEOPLE'S JOURNAL.
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,Stlrtt Vortrp,.
From the Indiana Free Democrat.
MR. VAILE The following verses, corn
posed by a fugitive slave, by the name of DAVIS,
who 'escaped from the State of Tennessee
SOMC years ago, are worthy of a place iu your
paper, and of the press of the country. Al
though they will not bear close criticism; yet
they have more real merit than one-half the
Magazine verses of the day; for while • they
contain as much poetry at least, they have the
advantage of being based upon truth. I have
heard them sung with good effect:
"AWAY TO CANADA."
Ox SUSANNAH."
I 'in on my war to Canada,
That free and happy land ;
The dire effects of slavery
I can no longer st'nd—
My Soul is vexed within me so,
To think I am a slave;
I've now resolved to strike the blow
For freedom or the .rave. ,
Oh righteous Father,
Wilt thou tint pity me,
And aid me ou to Canada,
Where colored men are free
I heard that Queen Victoria
If we would all forsake
Our native land of slavery,
And come hcroaa the lake, j
That she was stand:ng on the shore,
With arms extended wide,
To give us all a peaceful home
Beyond the rolling tide.
Farewell, old master;
That is enough for me—
'm going straight to Canada,
Where colored men are free.
I've - servid my master all my days
Withow a dme's reward,
And now I 'in forced to run away,
To flee the lash abhorred ;
The hounds are bay;ng on my track,
The master just behind,
Resolved that he will bring me back
^ Before 1 cross the line.
Oh old master,
Do n't come after me,
I !in going up to Canada,
Where colored men are free.
Grieve not, my wife, grieve not for me;
Oh do not break my heart,
For nought but erne! starer).
Would cause me to depart;
If I should stay to quell your grief,
Your grief I would lament
For no one knows the day that we
A•under may= berent. -
Oh dear wife,
Do not grieve for me,
I'm going up to Canada,
Where colored men are free.
I heard old master pray last night—
I heard him prav=-for me;
That God would come in all his might,
From Satan set me free;
As 1 from Satan would escape.
And Jiee the wrath to come,
If there 's a fiend in human shape,
Ohl master nmst be one.
Oh old master,
While you pray for me,
I'm on uty way to Canada,
The land of liberty.
Ohio's not the place for me,
For I u•as much surprised
So many of her sons to see
In garments of disguise.
Her name has gone throughout the world,
Free labor, soil, and meu;
But slaves had better far be hurled
Into the lion's den.
Farewell Oh:o,
I'm not safe in thee;
111 travel on to Canada, •
Where colored men are free.
I've now embarked for yonder shore,
Where man'sa mon by law;
The vessel soon shall bring me o'er
To shake the lion's paw;
I no more dread the auctioneer,
Nor fear the -master's frowns;
I no more tremble when I hear
The baying of the hounds.
Oh old master,
. Don't think hard of me,
I'm just insight of Canada,
Where colored men are free.
I'm landed safe upon the shore,
Both soul and body free;
11ty blood, and brains, and tears no more
Will drench old Tennessee ;
But I behold the scalding tear
Now stealing front my eye,
To think my wife, my only dear,
A slave must live and die.
Oh dear wife,
While you grieve forme,
Forever at the throne of grace,
'I will remember thee.
The following good one is from a Western
exchange:
, When Satan couldn't climb the wall
Of Paradise, to peep in,
He got a snake with forked tongue
Beneath the gate to creep in.
So when Nebraska's virgin soil
MS-scaly tract he'd leave
"Who'll be my reptile now ?" he cries:
"Lo here I am, says Stephen.
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From the Little Pilgrim
MITTIE, THE BLIND CHILD.
DID you ever thank ..God for. your
eyes, dear children ? Those two bright,
clear, happy-eyes, that He has giSen
to drink in the pleasant sunshine, the
beauty of the flowers; the glory of the
rainbow, and the -sweetness of your
dear mother's smile ! Listen, now, to
the story of a child to whom He never
gave eyes to look upon any of these
beautiful things.
It was on a sunshiny morning- -
somewhere.in the middle of the Atlan
tic ocean—that a gentleman, whom
sea-sickness had imprisoned in his
state room since the first roll of the
ship, took courage; from a cup of cof
fee and the calmness of the -sea, to
crawl upon deck. As he stood at, the
head of the narrow stairway, clutching
a rope to support his tottering steps,
he heard a glad child's laugh. Look
ing up, lie saw a little girl, about five.
years old, quite at her ease, on the
turning and rolling floor, trying to
" jump rope" with a knotted end of
ship rigging, which had been given
her by an old sailor. The brisk
breeze had brightened her cheeks, and
curled her flowing hair in no very or
derly manner. Mr. L. thought of his
own little daughter over the ocean,
and his eyes filled—
" Come to me, my dear !" he kindly
called, reaching his hand towards the,
•
She stopped her play, looked up as
though half frightened, half astonished-;
and then began carefully to creep
toward the outstretched hand. He
lifted her -.to his lap and kissed her
coral lips.
" Whose little girl are you 1" hy.
enquired.
" I'm nobody's little girl," she re
plied, in a touching tone. " Only God
takes care of me—and sometimes Cap
tain I—."
" How, Wh . erc yom. mamma ?"
" Mamma is in I3urrampootcr, I'm
not her little girl any -more," here a
tear rolled down her cheek. " I'm
going to New York" she said," to be
uncle's little girl. But New York -is
a great way off, isn't it, sir ?"
"Not a very long way my child—
you will soon see your uncle !"
ran't Nee, sir," she said softly.
Mr. L. started, and looked down
into those bright, dark, intelligent eyes.
Alas! it was too true! they were
darkened ivindows, through which the
soul could never look!
Mittie ! hey, 'Mule !" called a
bluff voice, as the captain's varnished
lint appeared from behind the mast.
" Eh, birdie, what new nest have you
found !"
With a start and a bound, Mittie
jumped into his rough arms, and laid
her cheek upon the shoulder of his
shaggy coat sleeve.
" So-ho, shipmate," continued 'the
captain, addressing Mr. L., :you are
aloft at last. Nothing like a • stiff
nor'wester for taking . the starch out
of you landsfolk ;" and he laughed.
:"
But this little girl, Captain I—,
how happens she to be'alone on the .
wide world of waters ?" •
" Can't say," returned the captain,
with a dubious - shake of his shining
hat. " She's a stray waif that I picked
up on the Liverpool docks. Don't
know her belongings ; she was labelled
for New York, it seems. Her name
—what's the balance of it, sea-bird ?"
he asked.
" Mittie Wythe Hamilton," lisped
the child, who had already found her
ivay back to her bit of rope, and sat
against the ship's railing, tossing up
her hands at every new dash of spray.'
" I was named for Uncle Wythe, and
he told mamma to send - me." Her
face clouded for an instant, then bright
ened again in the sunshine.
" Poor blind pet ! so: far as I can
make out her story from one thing
and another, she is the child of mis
sionaries in - India. Poor creatures,
they could not bring her over them
selves, and I dare say she was getting
no good in that heathenish land; so it
seems they put her into charge of an
English lady, name I've forgotten,
who set out to join her husband some
where in Canada. But she sickened
and died before the barque Sally
reached England, and the poor thing
was left friendless arid . helpless. What
the captain and mate of the Sally were
thinking of, I don't know; but they
put the child on dry land, with the
balance of ;the passengers, and set
sail without so much as looking up a
New York packet. . Alone in Liver
pool, and its no place for a blind child,.
sir, to say nothing of one that's -got
eyes--4 found her, amusing herself
pretty much as you see her now, with
bits of chips, at the corner: of ship
yard! . How the creature - had lived,
I can't say. I'll . believe after this,
shipmate, there's - a Grid in the sky,
who, as she - says, keeps watch over
DEVOTED- TO' THE PRINCIPLES. OF DEMOCRACY, AND THE DISSEMINATION OF MORALITY IaTER.kTURE,'AND.NEWS
BY IdAILY lailsG.
COUDERSPORT, POTTER COUNTY, PA., JUNE 2,-1854.
children ; if He don't over grown up
sinners ! It seems she had never
wanted for a berth nor a- mess. • I
want to go to New York,' she would'
say to every stranger who spoke to
her. I couldn't have left the little
thing—but I don't know where . I'm
taking her. If -I• can't anchor her
safely, keep her for first mate- of
the Down ; hey, sea-bird !" .." .
"What could you do with her in
that terrible storm off' Cape Clear?
I shudder to recollect that night !"
Well, sir, while pin were lying
flat. on your back, and the rest of us
Were hurrying, hauling and pulling
hither and thither, working for dear
life against the winds and waves, the
pretty creature was rolling about the
cabin floor, clapping her hands - as
though she - were in an apple-tree
swing, and found it capital fun ! When
I tumbled down to my locker for five
minutes' rest, I found her .on her
knees, in her little night-wrap, saying,
Our Father,' and I felt sure no storm
would sink the ship with HER on it."
Poor mother of Alittie ! how her
heart was wrung at sending-her blind,
trusting child from her arms! But
her brother in America had written,
telling her that he would provide for
Mittie—poor sightless Mittie, who
could learn little in that ,uncivilized
land. So, with many tears and pray
ers, that missionary mother had packed
her Mittie's small trunk, and placed
her in the care of a friend—the
.Eng
lish lady before' mentioned—to •be
transported to our country. What
but a mother's prayer guarded the
helpless darling in her lonely wander
ings !
On arriving at New York, Captain
I— and Mr. made inquiry
everywhere for Mr: Wythe. Direc
tories we're searched, streets ransacked
and questions repeated hundreds of
times, to no purpose. No relative of
the poor blind Mittie could be found.
" Leave her with the, captain," said
Mr. L—. I 'am soon to return to
London, L... lb 0 glreli Qn tr • T will
place her in an Asylum for the blind,
and see that she is comfortably cared
for."
Instead, however, 'of placing Mittie
in the State Asylum of New York,
her friend took her to a southern city,
where he had business connections,
and left her in one of those beautiful
retreats which nature and art . have
combined to adorn for those whose
eyes tell . not night• from day, nor
beauty from deformity. .
Kind voices welconied the little
stranger, but they were voices she had
never heard, nor hoped to hear.. For
the first time since she sobbed good
by on her mother's • lap, her hope and
faith faltered: She felt that she was
alone in the world, and she sought out
a cornei• to cry. Had the superinten
dent particularly interested himself in .
the child, he would have found out
her history i 'and probably have sought
some communication with her parents.
But setting down her name as a char
ity scholar, he forgot that she was not
an orphan. •
And Mr. L—? His sympathies
had • been strongly enlisted, and he
really intended to find out the mys
tery. But lie was a man of the world
and immersed in its busy cares. Hav
ing placed a suin of money for her use
in the hands of the director, with per
mission to apply to him in any emer
gency, he returned to his English
hothe—and only remembered the blind
child of the voyage at moments when
his own laughing Carrie climbed into .
his lap. .
One among a
.hundred children,
Mittie .was well educated in all that
the blind can learn. She vas taught
to read the Bible, from which her
mother had read to her, by passing
her small fingers over the curiously
raised 'letters. She learned to sew,
to braid, and to write, strange thoughts
that young head used to frame, for
that unsteady hand to jot do 4 wn in its
crooked wanderings --over the paper.
She learned to sing the' sweet hymns
of her schoolmates and to touch for
herself the keys of the piano, whose
melodies had almost made her fancy
herself in Heaven, only she had been
told in Heaven she should see like
other. children! Sometimes, in her
dreams; she would find herself on a
soft couch, with strange perfumes and
sounds about her, and would feel - warm
tears dropping one by one, on her
forehead, while a dear arre pressed her
closely:
" Mother ! dear mother !" Mittie
would cry,- and awake—to find no
mother.. •
Years had passed—when again a
ship was nearing the forest of masts
in New York harbor. On the deck
sat a pale lady in deep mourning, with
traces of tears upon her cheeks. Her
chidren dung about her, with wonder
in their faces.
".Oh,.beautiful America ! - the Amer
ica you have so often told us about,"
cried a sweet vciieed girl 'of twelve.
" Mamma, does. it look as it did7when
you' .went away.?"
Mamma, did , you live in any of those
great houses ?" .
Ma, mal plenty Pagodas here !"
chimed in the youngest boy, whose
eye had taken in the numerous church
spires. All spoke at once, . but the
mother answered neither. , Her heart
was•too full.. She had gone from that
'shore, a happy bride, and hopeful;
she was returning, a *widow, broken
in health -and spirits, to place her
children with her relativeS, and then,
as she believed, to lay her bones in
the tomb of her 'kindred. One hope
only, made her heart bound, and her
cheek grow paler, as she looked on
that shore of her . nativity, for the first
time in twenty years.
"Oh, God! could I see all my chil
dren before I die !" she faltered.
I pass over the scene of her landing,
and welcoming to the house
,of her
brother. will not stop to tell-you
how many wonders the India - born
children found in American city cus
toms and sights ; fur I must hasten to
the end of my story. .
"It is impossible; sister," said her
brother to the pale lady ; one , morning,
in answer to some expression. " The
child could- never have reached this
country.. We never, as' you know,
)iave traced her farther than England.
and if she had been brought here, she
could not have failed to find me, or
I her."
The widow sighed. "God's will
be done !" she murmured. " But it is
hard to feel that my little helpless
innocent—my eldest born—was sent
from the to perish alone. 'Often I feel
as if it could not be—as if she were
yet alive, and I should find her at
some day.
Providentially, as, it proved, the
mother was led to search the cata
logues of various institutions for the
blind ;• long in vain, At fength she
obtained a circular from a distant city,•
and glanced over it indifferently, so
often had she been disappointed. 'Her
heart sprung to her iffirdErsh6 - Csaw
the name "Meta W. Hamilton."
"Brother," she gasped, extening the
paper to him.
He looked and shook his head. ," I
am afraid you are expecting too much,
my poor sister. Matilda was your
darling's name, and then, hoW should
she stray to that corner of the United
States ?"
But the mother's hope was stronger
than her fears. She scarcely ate or
slept, weak though she was,.until she
reached the southern city whose name
the catalogue had borne. :• •
" Hamilton ? yes, we have one pupil
by that name," replied the_
bland
superintendent, in answer to her first
question of trembling eagerness. "But
she is an orphan, madam. '
" Are you sure, sir ? Oh, I Must see
her at once !"
She followed him to the door of a"
large room, where fifty girls sat ;
busied with their books and needle
work. The buzz of conversation died,
as they heard 'the sound of •strange
footsteps—and a hundred sightless
eves were turned towardS the door.
Near a table. on which lay a bunch
of delicate straw filaments, sat Mittie'
Hamilton. She had been- braiding a
bonnet, but her fingers had ceased
their work, and buried in .a sort of
reverie, she was the only one who did
not notice the entrance of a stranger.
" Was there any distinguishing fea
ture, by which you would recognize
your daughter, my dear madam ?"
asked the gentleman. .
The• mother's eye , wandered over
the group, as though she dreaded 'the
confirmation of• her feirs to lose' er
laSt hope. • •
" Show me the child of whom you
'spoke," she faltered.
" Meta Hamilton"—but he stopped,
for, .'at • the- lady's first word, Mittie
had sprung from her positign, and
throwing back the curls from her face,
turned wildly from side to side.' -
" Who is that ?" she cried with out
stretched arms. " Thiit voice;;--speak
again !"
"blittie, my cnil4l . !" cried Mrs.
Hamilton, springing to her side, and,
sinking, overpowered,,upon'her knees.'
" Mother, Oh mother !"—and Mittie'
fell into the arms that had cradled her,
in infancy. •
. . .
That was a; moment never to befor-I
gotten.
Uncle \Vythe Harris - (for the iris-;
take which hid clotided-so Many yeari
of the lifetime of. mother -and
was that of Mittie in substituting
child that she was--the.first name of
her uncle for the last) found a pleasant
cottage" on the banks of the Hudson
for his sister and heir now
family. What a loving welcome the
dear girls and boys, whom Heaven,
had blessed'with the pdwer of seeing.
their sister; gave' to the wanderer lkfit.
tie.! How she coinfoited her mother's
heart, making her 'forget hei great be
reavernent=making her ovewforgilt to
sorrow that she had .a blind .child,
herjoy
,q feeling that, , she had another
living darling! .The. sunshine of Mit-
Orlhood came back to her spirit.
Tbe. dear! blind girl ivas the joy of the
house. tiOw could any body cherish
a feeling of discontent or. peevishness,
when that glad voice .was pouring out
its. songs,ef thankfulness from morning
until night ! Oh, dear blind Mittie,
neVer.more-,-happy spirit that she was .
—mourned that Goil 'had not given
her eyes to see. "He has given me
back .my,mother," she once said, "and
these precious brothers \ and sister,
and He will let me see them all in.
Heaven !"
From the (N. V.) Independent
TRANSPORTATION,
Tut Richmond Inquirer tells us about
the trial of " tell negroes charged with
conspiring and assisting to poison
Captain Haney," in one of the coun
ties of Virginia. The end of the story
is, "They were found guilty, and three
sentenced to be hung on the first Fri
day of June next, - and the other seven
to be transported."
Transportation, then, is a punishment
as estimated by the ,laws of Virginia.
It is pimishinent next in_degree to
capital punishment. It is a punishment
provided byJaw in such cases, not for
white men, bull for negroes—for slaves.
The highest punishment that 'can be
inflicted on a slave is death. The next
-highest which the wisdom of the law
can discover, is transportation.
PuniShment is always the evil—the
•privation, or the positive 'suffering—
which justice inflicts on guilt. The
essence of the punishment is that it
cannot be inflicted on those who have
not forfeited their rights by crime.
When the law makes death the penal
ty of certain mimes, it assumes and
implies that every man has a right to
live, and that' the Briminal in that de
gree has forfeited his life to justice.
-When the law preScribes that certain
other crimes shall' be punished with
tzntrr Imusztucut nsitl compulsory labor,
it implies that every man has a right
to his personal liberty, and that those
Who commit such crimes have forfeited
that right. SO when the Jaw of Vir
ginia prescribes.-that for a slave the
penalty of the highest-guilt, nut cap
ital, shall be transportation, it implies
• that even a slaveplot convicted of that
degree. of guilt has a right not to be
transported.
What is transportation 3 What is
the dreadful punishment which is in
flictedun slaves convicted
,of murder
in the' second degree, and which, in ,
the._ estimation of the Virginia law, is
only, less than punishment 'by death 3.
The slave sentenced to, transportation .
13 simply sold Out 'of the State. Any
body can see that :transportation is
. ne
light penalty. The slave has strong
natural' attachments to his native
to his cabin, to his wife and children,
to his old motherperhaps, and to his
companions in labor—perhaps to an
indulgent master and a kind mistress,
and to "young inass'r," whom he has
'carried in his.arms ; and from all these
natural attachments he is - torn 'by the
stern justice that. Punishes his crime. •
The slave, too, in,Virginia where he
was born, has hopes ;—perhaps there
will he liberty upon that soil for hini
•or for, his children after him ;—per
haps his master will remove him to a
free State l—perhaps he may find some
oppertunity of escaping to a • land
where the fugitive-slave lava can not
seize him ; all these hopes die when
he is sold to Alabama or to Texas.
Slavery, too, has its alleviations on the
old plantations of Virginia, as corn-:
pared with the new plantations of the
far South-west. Evidently the law
does not err in its estimate of the in
trinsic -dreadfulness of transportation
as a punishment to be inflicted on slaves .
who have - been found guilty of crimes
Only a little short of 'murder in atro
city.. • : •
The law of Virginia, then, virtually
confesses that no slave, inhabiting the
soil of Virginia; ought to be trans
. ported, except in punishment of crime.
Will, the Richinond - Inquirer, or any
other respectable authority in that
State, inform us horiv many slaves are
transported from Virginia every year ?
Are there not more than ten thousand
such' exiles annually ? Of all these,
how many are transported after con
viction and sentence 1 Are there more
than twenty instances in a year 1
Transportation is, by the law of Vir
-ginia, a punishment commensurate
with a very high degree of guilt. Does
Virginia 'this dreadful punish
ment on Lmocent slaves,.on ton thou-
sand of them - every 'year t Does she
permit this dreadful punishment to be
'inflicted •on • ten thousand' innocent
slaves every yearott the convenience
or caprice of
,maifers, or , at the de
mand of - the crditorti'of masters'?
We - hope din Enquirer -will-give u
-seine ttliabli information on thisnuli
ject:i' '- , Anclif it is an: inninthablo -fact
II-
that slaves in Virginia are liable to so
dreailful punishment, with Out being'
convicted of any crime;--still more; if
therii are actually ten thousand slaves'
annually transported from that State,
without any judicial sentence convint 7 _
ing them of crime, and assigning tlie
just penalty, will the Enquirer,- or its
religious neighbor, the Observer mid
Watchman, tell us whether this is all
right
BEAlfra
Go. out beneath the arched heaven
in night's profound gloom, and say ir
you can, There is no God." Pr 0.. . -.
nounce the dread blasphemy and ea Ih,.
star above yeti will - reprove you - for,
ydur unbroken darkness of intellect--
every .voice that floats upon the night: .
will bewail your utter hopelessness
and., despair. Is there: no God?—
Who, then, unrolled that blue scroll,
and threw upon its high frontispiece
the legible gleaming of immortality 1
Who fashioned this green earth, With
its perpetual rolling waters and
expanse of islands and the
_main 1
Who paved the heavens with clouds,-
and attuned amid banners of storms
the voice of thunders, and unchained,
the lightnings that linger and 'lurk;
and flash in their gloom i—Who gave .
to the eagle a state eyrie when;
the tempests dwell and beat strongest,
and to the dove a tranquil abode amid
the ibrest that ever echoes to the min
strelsy of her moan? Who made
light pleasant to thee, and - the dark
ness covering and a herald to .the
first flashes of morning? Who gave
thee matchless symmetry of sinews
and limbs ? The regular flowing of
blood ! The irrepressible and danng
passions of ambition and love! And
yet the thunders of Heaven and the
waters of earth are calmed! They
remain, but the bow of reconciliation
hangs out above and beneath them.
And it were better that the limitless
waters and the strong mountains scat)
crunvalvod antA commingled logether—!.
it were better that the very stars were
conflagrated by fire, or shrouded in
eternal gloom, than one soul. should be
lost while Mercy kneels and pleads
for it beneath the Altar of Intercession.
• THE WARD CASE.—When it WM .
proposed by - Ward's counsel to bring
forward Robert J. Ward, brother of
the prisoner, and under' indictment as
an accessory to the murder, as a wit
ness for the defence, the prosecution
opposed it, and offered to show that it
was contrary to the plainest legal
principles, as decided by the English
and American courts. Mr. Critteffden
is reported to have rejoined the they
cared nothing about -these decisions;
they intended totry this case accord
ing to Kentucky law, and he could
cite precedents in Kentucky practice,
fin. permitting an accomplice to Clear
himself, by swearing so as to acpuit
hi' principal. And on this -plea the
Judge admitted Ward's brother as a
competent witness ;—and he alone out
of the Whole. number of witnesses
swore- that Butler struck Ward..
4i)h .l .lADO*PrAii.liacgOalllA:ollo,l:l7i3dcl
It is-generally allowed that there ii
more of what is called chiseled beauty
in America than in Europe—that the
features of -the women are finer,. and
the head more classical-. But here
ends the triumph of our sisters of the
West; their , busts are far inferior to
thtise we admire at home, and Cer
taih attenuation in the whole figure
gives the idea of fragility and • decay,
And 'this idea is correct. - What
they want is soundness of constitution ;
and in consequence of the want,
,tbeir
finely cut faces, taken'generally, are
pale instead of fair, and. sallow whgn
they should be rosy. 'in this country,
a woman is in the prime -of her 'attrac
tions at thirtyfive, and she frequently
remains almost stationary till fifty, or
else declines gradually and !gracefully,
like a beautiful day melting into lovely
evening. In America, twenty-fifo
the farewell line of beauty in women,
becomes decay ;- -at thirty-five, she
looks weary and worn, her flat elitist
symbolizing the collapsed heart . with
in ; and at forty, you see inher thla
and haggard features all the marks:of
premature age. The cause of their
difference-the Journal finds in the ciao
of stoves,in America, the females keep-
ing themselves . within doors ..in : t4e. ,
vitiated atmosphere which the,stovns
produce.—Chamhcrs'Edinburgh Jour
nal.
Cumous.—ln Minesota, there groins
a small plant whirl bearie ilitionif tri
sect The insect.. does .nit anima°
-perfection until the .131ant.,1milem4,0
wither. When the Withei.edilijid ?Mr
the lase& flies' away.: ,It'iiiittrelon
Who eireiteard °flu:titre/Vat
before! We neverdid.:
l. r ~. ~S~ r:
MEI
Fin
NP-