Anti-slavery bugle. [volume] (New-Lisbon, Ohio) 1845-1861, 1852-07-03
HARTFORD, q. June q

HARTFORD, u. June ZOth, 1907.
DEAR MAR1us: Yes, it is 1852, and June in it
Why have put that exclamation point there
Because l have said something expressive of
passion, intense emotion: something which
voices forth human agony. But what of deep
feeling is there in those simple words To us,
perhaps there is nothing. So far as We arc con
cerncd they may mean 10 more than the idle
wind. We have enough, and to sparc,-what
care we for the flight of time; Aye let time
Hy.l
o, no my friends, no! so ! Brothers DEAR
are we, all there are; May there no. be others,
to note how time Acs fast? Live there no
Siares, in this land; God in heaven, have mcr-
CIV on those Slavcs,-ior ,hey do take note!
they use that exclamation point, for they breathe
bittcrest anguish in those words As man
rushing from a blazing house, means something
by crying, fire fire even so do 100000 OF
pining bondmcn in this nation, mean unuttera-
Jlo things, and feel agony unknown to all but
God, when, sad and slow, and with eyes blind
cd by the scalding brine, they repeat the mourn
full words" All nc It's 1852, and June in it
and dm yet a sldrer'
Yes, the slaves take note, but not o broth
crs No-how time flies fast For il docs no,
| fly fast Would to God it did But slow, and
slower yet, and still moro slow, creep, drag, the
dull, sluggish, snail.like years Young was
wrong, when he wrote -" We take no note Of
time hut by its loss The slave takes note of
it, by its Stag--its lcngth,--its eternity o il
he could but cut i, Short and give it the speed
of lightning, and in q single moment, merge
his whole earth life into the pasts oblivion, and
reach the welcome goal of death! Then would
he pass to the spirit land, and know his slavery
no morc,-.fof he would dwell in a realm
"where the wicked cease from troubling, aud
the weary arc at rests where the prisoners rest
together, and thoy hear not the voice of the op-
pressoi where the small arc with the great,
and the servant is free from his mastor!" o
yes, if the slave might only die Terror to
others, would be bliss to him
Think of it. In 1880, voice of promise
went forth to the more than two millions, who
were chained in the South, saying" Hope on,
be of good cheer, yc shall soon be free - Apd
so they waited and longcd, and expected. Ten
years did they wait, and long and expect, but
the promise was unfuliled-the doliyorancc
came not. Five years moro went by, and still
they waited, AMI cried, and begged and prayed
aud still was the promise brokcn-thc nation
would not yc, do Justice. And five more were
added, and lSJ) d, ,mc, and still there those sup
plants stood, but not as before. For they mad
/ g
millions, and still were their chains grinding
deeper, and still was their anguish becoming
more dreadful, and still were they sinking low
or and lower in despair. And so, there that
mighty multitude stood, surging to and fro in
the utter hclplcssness of their wo, and with
hands stretched out implorngly, and eyes rain
ing an ocean of tears, and backs running rivers
of blood, and wall that picrcel the clouds, they
again, and more like rcsistlcss avalanche of
supplication than before, called, and shouted,
and shriekcd for freedom, and then sank down
at once upon their lainting knees, and in mute
dumb agony, looked the prayer TINT was denied,
for it was denied Twenty years hnl rolled.
and still was the promise unluldicd, still were
they not free. And then came 1851, dragging
their slow length of weary months, and days.
and hours-cach hour an age, each day more
than life, and each month a whole eternity of
suifcring-it came and passel-and still were
not those pleading millions free And now.
when, yet one moro of these cternitics piled on
eternities, was about to be added-when 1852
was ushorcd 10 then l wcen, the prayer was
hcard-tho promise kept All too truo-still,
as before, "kopt to the car, but broken to the
hope :" No, as if this cup was not yet full,
but now should bc-as if to beat out the hope,
which had hitherto been only deferred, and
quench in utter night the last dim ray of its
guiding star-the happy New Year brought
no New Years GiCt,-brought not the priceless
boon of freedom And SO the bitter months,--
to which gall were purest sweet and worm
wood very nectar,-havo slowly come, and