by that time were one and all sworn abolitionists,) by his
supposed reluctance to see that there could be no fellowship
between light and such darkness.

But Zachary Macaulay had eyes of his own to look about him, a
clear head for forming a judgment on what he saw, and a
conscience which would not permit him to live otherwise than in
obedience to its mandates. The young Scotchman's innate respect
for his fellows, and his appreciation of all that instruction and
religion can do for men, was shocked at the sight of a population
deliberately kept ignorant and heathen. His kind heart was
wounded by cruelties practised at the will and pleasure of a
thousand petty despots. He had read his Bible too literally to
acquiesce easily in a state of matters under which human beings
were bred and raised like a stock of cattle, while outraged
morality was revenged on the governing race by the shameless
licentiousness which is the inevitable accompaniment of slavery.
He was well aware that these evils, so far from being superficial
or remediable, were essential to the very existence of a social
fabric constituted like that within which he lived. It was not
for nothing that he had been behind the scenes in that tragedy of
crime and misery. His philanthropy was not learned by the royal
road of tracts, and platform speeches, and monthly magazines.
What he knew he had spelt out for himself with no teacher except
the aspect of human suffering, and degradation, and sin.

He was not one of those to whom conviction comes in a day; and,
when convinced, he did nothing sudden. Little more than a boy in
age, singularly modest, and constitutionally averse to any course
that appeared pretentious or theatrical, he began by a sincere