of the brave old Commonwealth! Instead of the sword uplifted to
protect liberty, let the slave-driver's whip be suspended over a
blood-hound, and take for your motto, Obedience to tyrants is the
highest law.

Legislators of Massachusetts, can it be that you really understand
what Slavery _is_, and yet consent that a fugitive slave, who seeks
protection here, shall be driven back to that dismal house of
bondage? For sweet charity's sake, I must suppose that you have been
too busy with your farms and your merchandise ever to have imagined
yourself in the situation of a slave. Let me suppose a case for you;
one of a class of cases occurring by hundreds every year. Suppose
your father was Governor of Carolina and your mother was a slave.
The Governor's wife hates your mother, and is ingenious in inventing
occasions to have you whipped. _You_ don't know the reason why,
poor child! but your mother knows full well. If they would only
allow her to go away and work for wages, she would gladly toil and
earn money to buy you. But that your father will not allow. His laws
have settled it that she is his property, "for all purposes
whatsoever," and he will keep her as long as suits his convenience.
The mistress continually insists upon her being sold far away South;
and after a while, she has her will. Your poor mother clings to you
convulsively; but the slave-driver gives you both a cut of his whip,
and tells you to stop your squalling. They drive her off with the
gang, and you never hear of her again; but, for a long time
afterward, it makes you very sad to remember the farewell look of
those large, loving eyes. Your poor mother had handsome eyes; and
that was one reason her mistress hated her.

You also are your father's property; and when he dies, you will be