The voice of freedom. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1839-1848, 1847-02-18
The Brotherhood of Man.
BY JOHN G. WHITTIER,

The population of Lowell is constituted
mainly of New Englanders but there are rep
resentatives here of almost every part of the
civilized world. The good-humored face Of
the Milesian meets one at almost every turn
the shrewdly solemn Scotchman, the trans
Atlantic Yankee, blending the crafty thrift of
Bryce Snailsfoot with the stern religious he
roism of CamerOn,-the blue-eycd, far-hair-
ed German, from the lowered hills that over
look the Rhine, slow, heavy, and unpromis-
ing in his exterior, yet of the same mould and
mettle of the men who rallied for Father
Land" at the Tyrtean call of Korner,and beat
back the chivalry of France from the banks
of the Katzbach-the couutrymen of Ritcher,
and Goethe, and our sainted Follen. Here,
too, are pedlars from Hamburger, and Bava-
ria, and Poland, with their sharp Jewish faces
and black keen eye. At this moment, be-
meath my window, are two sturdy, sun~brown-
ed Swiss maidens, grinding music for a live
lhood, rehearsing in a strange Yankee land
the simple songs of their old mountain home,
reminding me by their foreign garb and Ian
guagc, of
Entertainments peasant girl"
Poor wanderers!-I love not their music but
now as the notes die away, and, to use the
words of DR.. Holmes, "silence comes like a
poutice 10 heal the wounded ear" feel re-
ioiced for their visitation. Away from the
crowded thoroughfare, from brick walls and
dusty avenues,at the sight Of these poor peas
ants have in thought gone to the vale of
Chaumony, and seen, with Coleridge, the
Morning Star pausing on the 81 bald awful
head of Soyran Blenc," and the sunrise and
the sunset glorious upon snowy crested noun
tains, down in whose vallies the night still
lngers-and following in the track of Byron
and Rousseau, have watched the lengthen-
ing shadows of the hills on the beautiful wa
tiers of the Genevian lake. Blessings, then,
upon these young wayfarers, for they have
blessed me unawares." In an hour Of sick
ness, and lasSitude, they have wrought for me
the miracle of Lorretto's chapel, and borne
me away from the scenes around me, and the
sense of personal suffering, to that wonderful
land where Nature seems still uttering, from
lake and vale and mountains whose eternal
SHOWS lean on the hard blue heaven, the eCh-
oes of that hymn of new-created world,
when the morning stars sang together, and
all the sons of God shouted for Joy
But of all classes Of foreigners the Irish are
by far the most numerous. They constitute a
quiet and industrious portion Of the popula-
ton, and are consequently respected by their
Yankee neighbors. For myself, confess |
feel a sympathy for the Irshman. l see him
as a representative of a generous warm-heart-
ed and cruelty oppressed people. That he
loves his native land--that his patriotism is
divided-that he cannot forget the claims of
his mother island-that his religion, with its
abuses, is dear to hm-does not decrease my
estimation of him. A stranger in a strange
land he is always to me an object of interest.
The poorest and rudest has romance in his
history. Amidst his apparent gayety of
heart, and national drollery and wit, the poor
.emigrant has sad thoughts of the L" oud moth
.er of him." sitting lonely in her solitary cab
in by the bog-side of fathers
blessing, and a sisters farewel are haunting
him-a grave-mound in a distant churchyard,
far beyond the "wde wathers" he has an
eternal greenness in his memory-for there
perhaps lies "dnrlint child" or a swate
crather" who once loved him,-the New
World is forgotten for the moment-blue
Killarney and the LiIey sparkle before him
--GlcndaIlow stretches beneath him its dark
mirror-he sees the same evening sunshine
rest upon and haliow alike with Natures
blessing the ruins of the Seven Churches of
Ireland's apostolic age, the broken mound of
the DruidS, and the Round Towers the Pho
nician neutrality-suspicious. and mourn
full recollcctions of his home waken within
him-and the rough and seemingly careless
and light hearted laborer melts into tears. 1t
is no light thing to abandon ones own coun-
try and household gods. Touching and beau