The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1855-09-13

their cheeks blister with shame if he falters in
the ranks.
| Then the eyes of all his countrymen are
on him-sharp, clear, deep eyes-the eyes of
men who know the grandeur of the strife, who
watch his every motion; who expect every man
to do his duty; are satisfied with no less, de-
mand no more; and when satisfied of that,
will pour out upon bin, without stiut or meas
ure, their choicest treasures; and will gather
him, with pride and gratitude, to geuerous and
swelling hearts. Man of Kansas the people
OF America are behind you. They comprehend
| your struggle; and every blow you strike will
be borne on the wings of the wind from sea to
| sea.
And to this man is intrusted not only things
dear to this our country, but dear and vital to
civilization ITSELF And so it is that all civiliz-
ed men, OF every nation, are anxiously gazing on
his humble journey. The great sad hearts of
| Europe wish him God speed Universal Repub-
licanism names him her champion, and hands
him rife and an olive leaf Hg needs both.
But it is not his relatives and friends, it is
not the white man, the Indian, or the European,
who stand the nearest to the Kansas man. There
is one body of spectators, an innumerable
company, who hang on his advancing footsteps
with tragic and terrible interest, 1t is the
three millions of Africo Americans, whose des-
pended on the great result, who hover over his
pathway with emotion the most inten ,e and pro-
found. To me there is no more tou hing spec
tacle on earth, than the entire inact of these
helpless beings, in the midst of tn appalling
game of which North America is no the thea
tire, and they and their children the ole stakes.
Indeed, how many of them know it ot Scat
tered over vast spaces of territory, wit out means
OF communication bending in labor in thou
sand isolated fields, the great pother ,hich is to
determine their fate for all time is GO ag on over
their heads and all about them; and hey see it
not, they hear it not; and never raise their
bowed forms from the cotton row 81. the rice
swamp, to know what the tumult means. Those
silent and swarthy multitudes to whom his arm
may bring deliverance, the Kansassemigrant
can never forget. He, more than aay one on
earth, stands between them and tie miseres
which seem to be thickening upon them. False
to his position, how will he meet thSeashackled
wretches at the Seat of the Great Judge? True
to it, what sound more exquisite can fill the
soul of man, than those broken sobs of 10y unut-
terable, those prayers of speeches. blessing,
which will come to their deliverers."
He stopped; and, thinking he had finished,
said something to the effect that the Methodist
clergy met with great loss when Bison came
to the bar. He took no notice of it, but seemed
lost in reverie.
AT length he spoke again very slowly, and
with solemn thoughtfulness stealing through
his tones:
1T sometimes occurs to me, what the dead
slaves of America think of all these things.
Stringfellow would say they were hardly worth
consulting. Perhaps they are not. The dead
slaves OF America! That mournful and mighty
company, whose last stripe is healed, whose last
~ 70 Il L.
gone together to the great house Of refuge, and
where it matters not what complexion an Afri-
can or an Indian sun may have burned upon
the Pilgrim Kansas man There are others
watching you besides the illustrious dead. Be-
sides the forms of canonized martyrs and he
roes renowned in story, besides the immortal
company OF sages and patriots whe cheer you on,
are there not dark SCARED arms outstretched to
you from over the crystalline battlenents, and
voices of pain whose tones are tears imploring
you to listen and save? Hearken. What do they
say to you, to Stringfellow and to US? Some
thing, methinks, which we all might lay to
heart without harm, and which may stead us
when we need it most
81 end as L began. Kansas is career!"
"Yes," said l, and you ought to be there.
Why are you not?"
He walked to the window, and stood long
time with his back to me in silence. At last
he drew a miniature from his pocket, and laying
it on my desk, returned quickly to his former
place. opened it, and examined the face-a
woman's face beautiful as an oriental dream
| felt my question answered.
any friend" said Abel Bison, pressing my
hand-and there was something in his eyes be-
sides fire and darkness-"If Peter the Hermit
had had wife and two children, there would
have been no crusades."
He turned on his heel and went away.
And so Kansas still waits what she needs
more than Emigrant Aid Societies, more than
acts of Congress, more than saw-mills or money,
Though she needs all these waits what indig-
nant and Protesting Europe waited, till he came
in Martin Luther; what England hailed in
Cromwell, when she had upon her hands the
work of scourging into outer darkness the
bloody house of Stuart; waits what Republican
France has yearned for, alasl in vain, since
1889; and what revolutionary America sought
and found on the banks of the Potomac
MAN.